The Story of Word Pictures

I believe that every human is a storyteller because every human has a story to tell.
And, every one of my stories has a story.
This one - The Story of Word Pictures - is no exception.

The story behind this story is that I was "18-long hair-Volkswagen bus-traveling-through-Canada". (Yes, it is all hyphenated.) It was 1972 and I was sitting by a lake in the Canadian Rockies. My Muse came to me in the quiet and gave me this poem Word-for-Word. It just poured through my pen onto my pad - complete.
All, that is, except for the last line, which took me a year to create.
This is the story I use to explain how my process works and from where the stories come.

It is how I begin this Story Telling Blog.

The Story of Word Pictures
Mark Lewis
Copyright 1972 Mark Lewis and Laughing Moon Productions - All Rights Reserved

Sit down beside me,
I'll tell you a story.
Of beautiful women,
and men who are bold.

The kind of a story,
to help you remember.
The wonder of childhood,
Before we grew old.

A Story of Word Pictures,
Of sulfur and tin.
Of fern banks and forests,
That you can hide in.

Of little, brown people,
As tall as your knees.
Who walk very quickly,
Through doorways in trees.

Spires of moonlight.
Shells on the beach.
The soft, silent sermons,
The butterflies preach.

A small, Elfin Maiden,
In spiderweb gowns.
Goes gliding right past you,
One foot off the ground.

The old, learned Wizard,
Whose mist-shrouded tower.
Watches his watches,
Chime hour-on-hour.

And wait for the wind,
To come running up fast.
And watch as his footprints,
Go past in the grass.

So, think of a feeling,
From when you were younger.
Now, give it a color,
Or call it by name.

Then pull up the covers,
And keep your head under,
And smile at the darkness,
And know who's to blame.

So, if you can gather,
The pictures I scatter.
Like daisies in sunlight,
You weave into chains.

Then we'll be the ones,
Who will look for the rainbows.
When others think only,
Of clouds when it rains.