The Word Smith (Written October 26, 2012)
Word weaver, smith of smarts,
Master of the spoke arts,
Freedom flaunted, glory gained,
Master word smith spreads his fame.
Glory garnered, stories sold,
From his pen spill words of gold.
Men meander, women wait
From their posts atop the gate.
Break broken, thrill instilled,
From the gates the people spilled,
For page puller, mage maker,
Comes at the last the dream waker.
Fast farces, whipping wit,
Tells his stories bit by bit,
Their eyes enchanted, hearts held,
Stories more the word smith smelts.
Call contested, tall tales told,
People spread his words of gold.
The lord of all the spoken arts,
Word weaver, smith of smarts.
I wish I were a word weaver. *rolls eyes at self* If I had the skills to speak eloquently, perhaps I would have more friends, right? Or perhaps I would be able to convince my teachers I am not trying to back talk them, but actually just ask a question. Being unable to say what you mean, and having expectations working against your intentions, makes it difficult to convey your meaning sometimes. I want to be able to paint pictures with my words, and use them to take those who hear them to another world. I am not nearly good enough to do so yet, but one day I hope to be. C= We shall see. The authors who can do that, can remove you from the present reality, are really amazing.
So, I mentioned before that my school is doing a jog-a-thon right now. I figure I’ll just go ahead a leave a link again, just in case anybody feels inspired to drop a dollar or two. My name is Megan Eddy, if you do feel like donating. Every bit helps! C=