Words grand and small,
Artistic and true
Zachariah, he commanded them all
And better than you
Poems and short stories
Finger paints on the fridge
Zach wrote of great glories
Exaggerations? …just a smidge.
You see, Zachariah thought himself
a great man of talent
Whirling and twirling, creating and painting
Soliloquy, epic, fantasy,
and a tale a bit too tall…
His mother, she thought not of his skill,
But that her little boy had an unruly will.
This artist of hers…
he left great globs of paint and crayons words on her wall!
Unruly hair, papers strewn on the floor
Little kid hand writing up and down the door
He even stole her table cloth for a cape to recite
Imagination and creative power
For the mother… a mess
To Zachariah – Delight!
Free spirit be tame!
Clean up your mess, comb through your hair
Live under your mother’s reign
And those walls… Boy don’t write there!
Oh but mother, it is my love
To write free – free as a dove!
I write great stories, mamma look at my art
For in that is my truth… this is my heart!
Accept my transgressions,
Allow for my mess.
I down want regressions,
I won’t accept less.
Oh my boy… compromise but a little
Clean up your crayons
Don’t wear table cloths as capes…
Sure be an artist, but be clean for my sake!
No mother dearest, let my art be unbridled!
I’ll compromise nothing of imagination
You see it one day, if not in this hour
When they speak of great artists it is I they will name.
For if ever there was a greater poet…Well Zachariah, he didn’t know
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