PROMPT #215 – “AND I QUOTE” – INSTALLMENT #2

Here’s the quote:

“Nothing is impossible, the word itself says, “I’m Possible!”
~Audrey Hepburn

Image result for audrey hepburn

How is the impossible even possible? We wonder if we are capable to achieve great things because they seem daunting, haunting our every thought and action. “What’s the use?” we ask. We think we’re setting ourselves up for failure.

But, take this quote from Audrey Hepburn, star of the silver screen and a World Ambassador. From humble beginnings, she rose to her status in films such as “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” “A Nun’s Story,” and “My Fair Lady,” to name a few. Once retired from acting, she took on the challenge presented by third world countries, focusing on the starving and sick children. Always charming, always a loving soul. For Audrey Hepburn, she made the impossible, possible.

So, what’s possible for you? What do you consider out of your league? What have you or do think you can achieve?? Write a “possible” poem. Or an “impossible” poem. Or a hopeful dream … something you’d like to do but haven’t yet. Something “bucket list” worthy. Impossible? Positively possible!

MARIE’S “POSSIBLE”:

CURIOSITUNITIES

Castoff the conception that curiosity
killed the cat.
Inquisitiveness is
the origin of opportunity.
Actually, cultivated curiosity
converts to curiositunity,
and curiositunity
attracts astounding actuality.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

 

WALT’S “POSSIBLE”:

NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE TO A WILLING HEART

I started writing at thirteen,
lyrics for a song I hacked out
on the old organ we had at home.

Melody first, a little loop
of sound full blown into a
song, my first attempt.

Looking at the words
scratched onto a page
of spiral notebook paper

tattered and lined
random thoughts
of a future love long gone.

It had form and meter,
it had rhyme, my reason,
a poem of sorts on my page.

A poem never to see 
the light of day for years,
dead ended in a rusted file cabinet,

along with every other lame attempt
of poem and prose that
had me believing I had talent.

Maybe talent, but nary a whiff
of confidence to show the
work that was even at this early

date, very personal, a glimpse
of my inner self, the now me
in miniature, immature,

but with a dream.
To see my words light up
the pages of this book of life.

The flesh was willing,
but the spirit was weak,
my ambition was a wishful thought.

I wanted to write in the worst way,
and that was what I did,
in the worst way.

As the years passed,
I still tried to convince myself
that I was a writer, a poet

a composer, an untapped
resource in a disconnected
reality, a dreamer

working for his hearts desire.
Hard work, hard words
mired in the muse of my mind.

But determined to live
according to the dictates
of my nightly mystic visions.

I dusted off my file cabinet,
shooing the dusty webs from the 
hidden treasures long buried.

I sent my words into the world
unsure of their worth,
afraid of their power.

Given to the eyes of
others of a write minded bent, 
sharing similar uncertainties

of their own. They labeled me,
tattooed me with an identity.
They called me poet.

The name I wanted;
the name they offered.
Nothing is impossible.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2018