A cloud of ideas hovering before your eyes
Writing it with haste before it disappears
Poets, novelists, playwrights must find fulfilment in ink and words, right?
Or do they get envious when a painter holds a brush?
A silhouette memory glued to the back of your head
Detailing it with a confetti of colours on your canvas;
Drawers, painters, find their happiness in pencils and brushes, huh?
I really doubt they ever wish it was them when a singer holds a mic.
An angelic voice that captures many hearts and souls;
Eyes closed, mouth opened to let the melody hypnotize the audience
Singers must find their joy in do re mi… I bet
I don’t think they desire to shake a leg the way dancers do.
Flowing to the beat of the drum is mesmerizing;
Legs, hands, head, willingly bending to every note
Dancers find satisfaction in moving to the beat, eh?
No way they dream about holding a mallet to be a sculptor.
Carved fretwork, moulded cray
An adze in the right hand, a chisel in the left
Sculptors probably feel whole when they play with cray and stone and metal
They probably can’t even imagine being a writer; holding a pen.
This poem was published in the November 2021 Edition of the WSA Magazine
Read – A Million Ways to the Top – A Poem by Bokang Moshoeshoe, Lesotho
