Friday From the Journal – The Wordsmith

Today we have a double treat for you!

First, the poem the poem that placed second in the Fine Lines Poetry Contest:

THE WORDSMITH

With pen in hand I slide to the other side,

Where fireflies shatter twilight’s veil,

Pine needles crinkle on the path,

Moonbeams whisper a melody,

Chanting waves enthrall,

Rushing winds caress,

Stars glisten above,

Blood tingles as

I drink from the

Fountain of

Words

  – Marion Young

Now – join us in this interview with the author Marion Young

“Hello, this is Zoe at KPSK Radio. Today we’re talking with Marion Young, a local poet who scooped up second prize.”

Creek. Creek. The faux-leather chair cracked as I sat next to my talk show host. “Howdy.”

“Congrats are in order for your poem, The Wordsmith,” she said.

“I’m honored to receive this award,” I said.

“Now that we’ve got the chit-chat done with.” Zoe’s ebony eyes looked through me. “Would you mind answering a question?”

“Ask away.”

“What’s the word on The Wordsmith?” asked Zoe.

“It’s like when sewing machines keep on humming.”

“You wrote about a factory making T-shirts?”

“It’s like when a blue whale sings with all her heart.”

“You wrote about how whales turn each other on?”

“It’s looking into a mirror as it cracks from side to side.”

“If I read your poem, I’ll get seven years bad luck?”

“No, no, listen. It’s zip, zap, zoom.”

“What?”

“Zaps of lightning seize every molecule from your toes to your nose.”

“Are you saying I’ll get electrified if I read it?”

“You haven’t read it.”

“Well.”

I handed her my poem.

“With pen in hand . . . caress . . . blood tingles . . . words.”

“What do you feel?” I asked.

“Nice.” Those black eyes zeroed into me. “Very nice.”

“Any more questions?”

“If you could sum up your style, what would you say?”

“Droplets dripping from the light.”

She whispered, “But where do they go?”

“They splinter the darkness.”

Slowly Zoe nodded. “Your words . . .”

“My words?”

“Could you,” she swallowed. “Come see me again?”

“Anytime.”

“How about greeting the morning sun with me?”

I drew in a quick breath. “Before or after you’ve poured me a second

cup?”

“After.”

“I’d love to.”

To be continued . . .

The End

Author Bio:  Marion Young was raised in Michigan, has lived in Colorado and Nebraska. She resides in Texas. She married an amazing man at nineteen, raised a darling daughter, and looks forward to bringing color to their lives for years to come. Marion enjoyed teaching students with special needs for twenty years. She taught students with multiple impairments for seven, then students with blindness and visual impairments for an additional thirteen years. Marion strives to write poems and stories from the depths of her entire being. In 2015, Marion will publish her first picture book for children, Love Circles the World, showcasing how all of us celebrate love around the world through the five senses.