The Creative Moment
“…if any of you have been around in this life long enough, you’ve thought to understand that you do not make anything happen. What you do is you make yourself attend to a process whether it be acting or directing or gardening or painting or building. You get involved in the process and you do it as specifically as possible. You cross the ‘t’s’, you dot the ‘i’s’, and you try to stay in the moment, you do your job.” PMG
LAZY LALA
LAZY LALA floated through the garden of colors,
Amongst the buzzes and zings,
hiss and drone of silence.
Summer sizzled softly in the late afternoon,
the colors of the rainbow dancing
beneath the squeeze of squinted lids.
Over . . .
beneath the stacked and leaning
wool shack wall,
THREE-LEGGED DOG
lay behind his lolling tongue,
blinking away the flies,
too tired to inquire after their whereabouts.
The shade was cooler,
‘Smelled of tired grey wood and
rich green weeds.
LALA’S golden hair disappeared
then re-appeared amongst the cobwebs and
crack of twigs.
The kiss of grass rushed against
her soft cotton dress.
HARK
Flying slyly on pillows of heat,
drew a long curve . . .
leapt onto a young branch,
tipped forward . . .
regained his balance
and eyed the bush of berries.
THREE-LEGGED DOG eyed HARK.
Ah berries!
Purple baby bubbles of jolly juices,
shining diamonds in the sunlight.
Chew an explosion of luscious lavender
and purple tasty tart;
better than a drink of water
this hour of summer.
THREE-LEGGED DOG eyed HARK
And berries, belled and nodding,
cooking in the heat
knew not.
LAZY LALA,
whispering to herself in soft exclamations,
surprised by nothing at all
and everything at once,
eyed a leaning tulip.
She smelt it’s hole . . .
tore off a velvet petal . . .
and stuffed it between her chubby cherub lips.
This was too much for HARK,
struggling for his balance
amidst the streams of saliva.
Reaching for two handles of air,
he leapt through the simmering summer
to the Cathedral of Berries.
THREE_LEGGED DOG eyed HARK.
And . . .
As berries went gobbling down,
while LALA sat amongst the tulips
licking the pollen off her fingertips . . .
THREE-LEGGED Dog let his tongue hang
too long,
too low.
Thinking the great hole
to be a gaping wound of the flesh,
with aroma so beautifully loathsome
that only a Fly could find delightful,
NEDDY ZIPPER,
cruising from the dung yards,
buzzed past the lolling tonsils
of THREE-LEGGED DOG
and ran smack into the back of
his mouth.
The screen door banged open . . .
THREE-LEGGED DOG
Swallowed his surprise
bit his tongue . . .
LAZY LALA
was caught eyeing the petunias . . .
HARK
clapped his wings and smiled with his berry
bubbling beak.
And NEDDY ZIPPER prayed for a burp.
… … … … … … ~ [ pmg ’81 ]~
The Author of this imaginative experience
is the Artist, Mr. Paul M. Glaser.
Share the Journey into Creativity
To read more of Paul Michael Glaser’s narratives and poetry,
Follow https://medium.com/@LilRhodysphere
The Art of PM Glaser can be viewed at www.pmglaserart.com
All inquiry, please EMAIL info@pmglaserart.com
