THE CREATIVE WHO SOLD
The carpets are thick in the Apartment on Old the kitchen has magnets and photos I’m told. A man sits at a table varnished brown burnished bright he stares at his paper which flickers winsome white.
The man picks up his coffee wriggles his toes on the rug the inspiration he seeks gives a half hearted shrug.
He looks out of his window taps his pen on the page A word, please, dear God, I ask- “just a phrase!”
The man stares out the window through the blinds that sag down On the pavement below scrambles a jostling town It runs and it ravages and it reeks of revenge but the man doesn’t know that, it’s silent his end.
He stands in a hurry, gets a blanket, “I’m cold,” He stomps to the fridge. His cheese, it has mold.
Three months and a quarter his apartment is sold We don’t want your work he heard publishers scold You’re too bland, you’re not bold.
And the man then he knew his Apartment on Old was too cosy and careful and certifiably cold. So he sold up his carpets and coffee and gold Now he roams on the street where the stories unfold.Spunky, empathetic and humorous- I’m a writer, thinker and sushi eater. I enjoy life. I believe when we are generous, cool things happen. Running, writing and Jesus keep me (mostly) sane. Some days I eat banana chips for dinner. Some days I drink wine with my friends while the Cape Town sunsets. Most days I change the world in a Creative Agency where we talk innovation, ideas and images. Download two free ebooks at franthring.com