The Calligraphist

It’s been a while since I crafted a story in verse. Here’s one!

In her fast-paced world with technology replete

Her time spent on the computer increased to complete

An ever-increasing list of tasks, work seemed to seep

Into home, vacation, leisure time and sleep

To get a break from this monotony she yearned

To find a creative outlet, a desire within her burned

To create something beautiful, a piece of unique art

That would prove therapeutic for her heart..

But in order to explore a medium creative

She needed time that she could not give

*

One day a flyer she spotted at the local library

Announcing classes on modern calligraphy

Conducted at the instructor’s home, in groups small

Intrigued , she decided she could explore this after all

*

Not many accomplishments she could claim

But she had good penmanship to her name

At least as a child, though she hardly wrote anymore

Her writing now was a scrawl compared to that before

Recalling how she used to write beautifully with fountain pens

She proceeded to buy her supplies, before the lessons she commenced

*

She started her first class with some trepidation

But a warm welcome made her overcome hesitation

Starting from scratch, she learnt how to hold the pen

Create loops, slants and ovals, and then

The magic of creative lettering came alive

With complete absorption she learnt to strive

To create uniform letters without smudging the ink

The painstaking attention to detail would not allow her to think

Of anything else, with each lesson she continued to refine

Her calligraphic skills, creating spectacular designs

*

That she had within her an artistic bone

Before calligraphy, she had never known

Now she practices her art every day

It is meditative, she would say

The flow of ink on a surface to create

Artistic letters, pent-up anxiety dissipates

Into her letters she imprints her heart

That, I’d say, is the essence of true art