i magine him mounted on bicycle
riding a brisk timeline
privileged
self-paced
detached
miserable
trumpet at home in its case
many moons ago
there was only one sun
he blows into cupped hand
smells his breath
by mary ann blinkhorn
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mypenandme 
Written for Three Word Wednesday at: http://www.threewordwednesday.com/
I know a recluse genius just like this!
That’s amazing! Thanks for sharing. 🙂
so, how was his breath 🙂
not that of a trumpeter yet very much so…
Sometimes these geniuses live very lonely lives too don’t they?
Really great imagery. 🙂
It depends on the genius. 🙂
Did the Jobs ghost enter your mind at any point..?
What’s the Jobs ghost? Sorry, you’ve lost me here…
Drew me right into the character… great poem!
What a lovely compliment. Thank you. 🙂
I like this. Clear description, waking up my own imagination.
Thank you very much, Nico… 🙂
interesting story this tells.
Thank you, Sheilagh. 🙂
I’ve nominated you for Reality Blog Award.I would be honored if you accept it.
http://cristimoise.wordpress.com/2012/10/10/reality-blog-award/
I accept. Thanks for the nomination, Christi. 🙂
ingesting the wrong things changes your breath..i hope the trumpet may be taken out of its case again..gases exchanged for beautiful notes..jae
🙂
O I can see him! This is wonderful. (Actually, I’m envisioning my cousin, Richard! Ha!)
Your cousin, Richard… Ha!
Sparse words with vivid imagery. Nice!
Thank you, Grandma G… 🙂
There are some telling descriptors here which provide the background to the character such as “privileged, detached and miserable”. He walks a path parallel but not the same as ours so it is difficult to engage with him.
Very interesting. Thanks so much for commenting.
Very cool poem. k.
Thanks. You wrote a very cool poem too. It spoke to me. I felt it. Excellent job.