A seasoned poet tells a beginner.
- The most dangerous creatures are poems. There is no salvation from them. If you run, they will run even faster. If you throw yourself into the water, they will swim too.
- What if you hide?
- They will hide too.
Little Poet looked out the window, at the sky, at the trees, at ordinary people, and sighed sadly. Everything wasn't nice to him - he scared, poor thing. His head was spinning, his ears were ringing, his eyes were filled with sand, his throat was sore, his heart was aching, his stomach was rumbling, his legs were breaking, his mood and pressure were itching, everything was itching. I wanted to either cry or beat somebody. Not other than picked up a terrible contagion - a creative crisis. Oh-ho-ho-ho, we'll have to ask for help...
- What's the matter with me? - Little Poet asked the doctor hopefully after he had examined him, listened to him, and felt him.
The doctor, who was concentrating on filling out some forms, shrugged his shoulders:
- And who knows him? Avitaminosis, most likely. Or lack of poetry in the body. When was your last act of poetry?
- Over the past year?
The doctor was dissatisfied with the humming:
- Everything is clear. Why are you so? You know that without poems, your brother quickly loses his shape, weakens and becomes weaker.
- I don't have a brother," the Little Poet squealed and lowered his eyes in his groin. - And ... well, I be too?!
- Humor has already failed you," the skullcap breathed heavily, "and your imaginative thinking is too low. You lose vocabulary rapidly.
- Is it that bad? - The Little Poet was fooled. - And what to do?
- I am writing to you, - the doctor showed you the recipe he filled with calligraphic scribbles, - multiple and long-term contacts with poems. First, take two or three rhymes twice a day after a meal. Gradually increase the dose. I also strongly recommend you to take part in some mass poetry event - people will recover faster.
- A... - I wanted to ask a confused, completely discouraged patient, but the poet and pathologist was in a hurry to put his scarf and papers in a suitcase with a stylized image of a pegasus.
- Everything, dear. You know, I have a lot of challenges - the poet has gone weak now.
- Where did you go? - without much curiosity, Little Poet asked about it.
The doctor danced his tongue, frowned, looked at his pupils, felt his pulse, told him to stick out his tongue again and say "Beh", and then fixed something in the recipe:
- Why are you so, my dear? Don't look after yourself at all, don't take care of yourself. Poems! Hear, poems! I increased your dose. I wish you a speedy recovery.
Turned on the doorstep, he vigorously threw his fist: "No paragraph!
And the Little Poet, looking at the recipe and scratching his head, began to figure out where to get him poetry.
Every poet from the youngest nails knows where the poems come from. However, some people are mistaken, and having listened to the poems, they really think that the poems bring pegasuses in their teeth or they are just P-i-shut-t in general (yes, yes, yes, such obscurantist perversions sometimes settle in the heads of some poor people!). But most of the servants of Eutherpa, Erato, Calliope and sometimes Polygamy know what ways to get poetry.
First of all, they give birth very often. First, they get pregnant (someone at this initial stage manages to get an unforgettable pleasure!), then for a long time and it is most difficult to bear the fruit (sometimes, unfortunately, throwing it away), and then give birth in terrible pains. Everything would be okay, Little Poet, although he was not a supporter of such excursions, perhaps would agree to endure all the hardships and deprivations of childbirth, but could not get pregnant, alas. Well, for some reason it happened so...
The second way is to grow poems from the seed. Long - while the poem will give at least the first sprouts, not to mention the bud, is about a year, and so long to wait for the Little Poet can not - flippers stick together.
The third option is to bring up other people's newborns or very young poems, which parents refused for some reason (orphans are also suitable), to feed them, to raise them, to educate them in their own way - and this in our case is not an option for the same reason of the lack of a temporary resource.
The fourth, seldom feasible way - to find poems - is not worth counting on seriously.
Fifth: buy. Illegally and terribly expensive, and the goddess of ethics, the First Secretary of the Guild of Poets, does not tolerate smuggling and all sorts of illegal transactions.
The sixth, the last way to find poems is to hunt for their wild representatives. The method is complicated, sometimes dangerous, requiring special skill and skill from the poets, but it is quite feasible. The Little Poet stopped at him.
Сontinuation should be...