Sometimes I get inspiration from poems. It doesn’t happen too often but it reminds me of when I was a quiet and awkward pre-teen. I would spend hours locked away in my room reading.

The books I chose could have been anything, though they mostly consisted of small paperbacks such as Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen’s mystery novels, some hardcover Nancy Drew, Atlas of Parrots of the World, the Dictionary (yes, I read the dictionary as a form of entertainment), and an occasional book on poetry.

Sometimes the poetry manifested in an odd way. I once found an elaborate, and quite brilliant, poetic tale in a Calvin and Hobbs comic strip book. I liked the piece so much that sometimes I would copy the prose and pretend that I came up with it on my own. That of course didn’t impress anyone, not even myself. But it was fun to pretend.

I found another such poem today, one that I knew I once read when growing up. The following prose reminds me of someone very important in my life. I’m sure they would appreciate it too.

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands. 

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls, 
And like a thunderbolt he falls.