Meet The Wandering Poet: Abigail Mott

Written by Karen.

It was a lazy, sunny Sunday afternoon. Adam and I were walking around the 16th Street pedestrian mall in downtown Denver. There were lots of people out partaking in a game of chess or playing the public pianos, eating outside, or just hanging out and simply enjoying the warm afternoon.  

We walked into the Writer's Square and saw a young woman sitting at a small fold-up table on the sidewalk.  She was wearing a fashionable retro black-and-white sun dress, black cowboy boots and was smoking a cigarette while typing deliberately at a small blue-and-white typewriter.  Propped up against the front legs of her table was a sign: Pick a Subject; Get a Poem.  

I was completely intrigued and walked over to get a closer look.  "Hi," she greeted me, "Would you like a poem?"  "Sure," I said, "How does it work?"  She pointed down to her sign and said, "Give me a topic, and I'll write you a poem. If you like it, you can give me a donation."  "Okay," I said, "I'd like a poem." She lifted her hand to shade her eyes, "I've got a few poems ahead of you, so if you can come back in 30 minutes, we can talk."  

We wandered up the street a bit, with me checking my watch every five minutes or so, until it was close enough to 30 minutes for us to start  our way back to the Writer's Square.  As promised, Abigail was ready to take on her next poem topic.  

During the thirty minute waiting period, I had considered different topics ranging from an ode to the VW Vanagon, to Rocky Mountain highs (being Colorado!), but finally settled on a serious topic that is near and dear to my heart: Follow Your Dreams.

"Is this poem for you, or for someone else?" Abigail inquired when I asked her for a poem on the topic of following your dreams.  "For me," I replied.  Abigail smiled, and said, "Okay, I'll need about 15 minutes."  

I left her as she began typing - click, clack, click - on the old typewriter. I was as excited as a kid on Christmas Eve.  The minutes ticked by slowly as I sat down the street and watched Abigail write.  She would stop and look off in the distance and then look down and start typing.  And then again, and again.  She finally pulled the sheet of paper out of the typewriter, read the poem, nodded, and placed it on the table beside the typewriter.  She was finished.  

I sauntered back, my curiosity peaking. We chatted a bit about life, what she was doing (she is also traveling around the United States), what we were doing, and then she gave me my poem.  I loved it!  We parted ways and wished each other well on our journeys, but I know that I got the better end of this deal!

Follow Your Dreams - written by Abigail Mott

You have only yours ---

No one can sing

the song you adore

that lives

in your heart,

body, mind ---

It's a trial for truth

A danger to dream

It's the only reason

to live your whole being ---

Courage & faith

are all it takes

to mother the idea

your love has made.

Abigail after completing my poem.  In talking with her a bit, she is from Pennsylvania and has been traveling around the United States writing poems. So far, she has visited San Francisco, Portland, Seattle and now Denver.  

A picture of the actual typewritten poem