by Sharon Prater-Pope
Accumulated books, ancient classics, exist.
Cultures take pains to make inaccessible,
Cheat men of remarkable abilities.
Writers, novelists, poets,
Full of imperfections,
Elaborate on honest lifelong learning
Among the constellations,
No sleep, attending to morning,
Sharing wisdom and feelings.
We have the luxury
Of reading, digesting, ciphering,
Of learning from their circles of age,
On a scale that leaves us satisfied and feeling rich.
This poem was formed from random words that jumped out at me from two pages in the book, "Walden" by Thoreau. I listed 47 words and used all but six of them. I added a few of my own words here and there also. I love the challenge of writing this way. :)