THE HIDDEN POET

Well, well, well, I just may have a poet lurking in my soul after all. She made a surprise visit yesterday at a most unusual time.

I was sitting in our church hall ready (and not so eager) to hear an hour long lecture. Since I have the attention span of a five year old, my mind started to wander after the first sentence was spoken. Ideas popped into the fertile ground and titillated my writers synapses. OMG, I couldn't speak into my recorder and I didn't have my pad and pencil at the ready. Now what?

I looked at the information neatly typed on handouts that I was suppose to take home and turned it over. Yea! Fresh white paper - untouched by type -- ripe for my thoughts.

I dug discretely through my purse and voila -- a pen. I looked around at all the attentive people. No one suspected a thing. Am I the only one who wiggles through these boring lectures? I guess so.

I placed the virgin paper in my lap and let my words flow. And, flow the did -- like a river after a winter melt. I filled a legal sized piece with words -- poetic words. How very cool is that!!!

And, after the poet muse left, the common sense muse arrived. And other ideas began to grab me. Ideas for my local newspaper. Ideas for a column on common sense. Twelve titles for articles I could write.

You must understand that in my community common sense is as fleeting as a flea on a dog. I wonder if it is something in the water here that makes people do crazy things. Take joggers for instance. Like the ones that run in the road -- in the dark -- without flashing lights. Void of common sense. I even saw one with a two babies in a jogging stroller -- yep, you guessed it -- no lights. God, talk about stupid. But, I digress.

I can't write adult stuff -- not now. I have a marathon to prep for...two days and it's typing mania. Okay, so, I have already started. But, come on, I'm older than most of the participants and need a head start. OOOH, I'm already running with 14 ideas started and saved in my picture book folder. No fair, you say. Possibly, but I don't care. When the ideas spark I need to strike the match.

As they say all's fair in love and writing marathons. Wish me luck. I just may come out of this a poet!!!