Allowed access.
Immature, thoughtless,
wonder abounds.
Not near serious enough.
Thrill to see, there, There, LOOK,
on paper, that's what I've kept inside so long.
Rather than strive to bestow blood from pores,
glibly accept an initial gift.
Ignoramus, tote the package worldward, fling it,
eyes closed, twirl.
So happy; everyone ought to be.
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New Playroom
I've been consumed for a few years by care for my parents, so writing has fallen by the wayside. In and for my heart, this has become a ...
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I've been consumed for a few years by care for my parents, so writing has fallen by the wayside. In and for my heart, this has become a ... -
She stands between the window sill and their bed. When I pass by, her back is to the open door. She stands a long while. He is away at an ...
2 comments:
I keep forgetting to visit after a month of not needing to!
Hmmmm, is this about your book/writing? I'm terrible at interpreting poetry, probably because I rush through the reading.
Vague, intertwined thoughts about writing/sharing in general and submitting into the literary void. Sort of. Thanks, Cecily, for reading.
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