Photo byย Yianni Tzanย onย Unsplash
Never mind my name. Our true names have power, and why would I willingly offer anyone such power over me? This is what you can call me.
Daybreak … silence broken by songbirds
Call me Bard. Hear the verses I recite. See the sweeping plains razed by the west wind,ย the towers of steel and concrete glimmering in the noonday sun. Witness the truth my stories bare, like a woman in the last throws of childbirth. How a mother and father argue into the night while their children cry. How a teacher sighs as yet one more student curses out another during a mini-lesson on theme. How a vacent-eyed survivor of yet another bombing stares at a crumbling wall. How the story of any of us all is the story of all of us. Live, then, as another Bard says: “To thine own self, be true.”
Eagle aloft
the roar of a river
swollen with snowmelt
Call me Troubadour. Feel the rhythm from my acoustic-guitar arpeggios set your feet tapping, your hips swaying. Taste the lips of your beloved, the traces of perfume/cologne on that nape of their neck. Wipe away a child’s tear with a tender touch. Give your last grapefruit to the old homeless woman babbling incomprehensibly to herself on a cool April night. Experience the love my songs summon from the depths of all of our hearts. Then, as a saint says: “Love, then do what you will.”
tiger crouching
the rustle of underbrush
in the jungle’s heart
Call me Warrior-Poet. Shudder as I eviscerate, with the simplest of words, the cherished illusions of those saying “these people…” or “that thing…” Shake as I press a humble truth into the gaping, condescending mouth of mere power. Tremble as I turn the entrapping force intended to shatter me against those that would wield it so. Savor the fiery service I provide. For, as an anonymous warrior-poet says, “Today is a good day to die.”
rising dragon
parting the mist on the sea
the wind
Call me Pathfinder. Follow the trail I blaze through the wilderness. Place your steps in the footprints of this wayfarer. Know the trails signs I leave to mark the way through for you. Do not stay lost; Be found.
dusk … twinkling of the first stars
for Real Toads April Four: Transformations
#GloPoWriMo2018 #NaPoWriMo2018 4/30 (concrete nouns and specific details)
Frank J. Tassone 
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