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Dorothy A Nov 2009
She has fire in her veins,
fire in her hair.
She might light your world afire today.
So beware!

Her autumn reflection,
burning bright,
has much detection
throughout her night.

She has a hurting spirit,
but a proud name.
The fire she did inherit
is in her eyes the flame.

A mist of rain does tend to descend,
threatening her torch with dread,
but in spite of its might and unceasing end,
the fire is never dead.
My autobiography in 77 words :D
Dorothy A Mar 2015
I don't want to tap away on my phone to relate to my friends.
I don't want to reduce my conversation to 140 characters, day in and day out.
I don't want to clue you in on every mundane thing that I do or think and expect you to hit the like button

Maybe I'm old fashioned, but what happened to meeting face to face?
If we cannot do that, why do we silence our natural voices for the sake of bits of this and bits of that?

I want eye contact
I want ****** expressions
I want to use my natural senses
I want to let you hear my laugh instead of typing LOL

Has our social world come to this?

Just my thoughts
690 · Dec 2009
I Want to Go
Dorothy A Dec 2009
I want to go
where people are free
from the gravity of life's care,
the needless cares
that keep us feeling like we
weigh a ton.
To never feel
the pain of rejection.
To never feel
that I don't measure up.
To never feel
like I have to fake it to be myself.

I want to go
where people
don't have their ear glued to a cell phone,
their fingers feverishly texting,
where people pass one another
and know someone just passed them by,
knowing enough just to smile.
Dorothy A Dec 2012
Sometimes, I wish I had a heart of stone
So I wouldn't have to feel the pain
But if I am to feel at all
I have to feel it all
The joy, the hurt, and the mundane
687 · Jan 2011
Speechless
Dorothy A Jan 2011
Sometimes
I could just babble on and on
I am seldom found left
without words
I suppose it is
a way to drown out
the silence

But when I have
a divine encounter
with You, Lord,
I find my parched throat is quenched,
the yearning to see Your beauty
sweetly satisified
For I am instantly struck with awe

Your Spirit fills the rushing void
as You surround me
with warm, caressing light
like a flame of hope
and illumination

Your passion
and mercy
and love so overflowing,
as a mysterious fragrance
of passionate peace
overtakes my
quivering being

And suddenly
no words are sufffice
to what I now behold
before me

For suddenly
I am

speechless
685 · Feb 2014
Addict
Dorothy A Feb 2014
Someone is drowning right now

in drugs
             in *****
                         in ***
                                   in food
                                           in internet use
                                                             ­  in [fill in the blank]
                                                          ­                                    endless cravings
Going down
                   down
                           down
                                   down
                                        the shaky steps
                                                        the­ slippery slopes
                                                          ­               into the rabbit hole
                                                            ­                                         d
                                                               ­                                         o
                      ­                                                                 ­                     w
                                          ­                                                                 ­      n
Loneliness?
               Brokenness?
                           Emptiness?
                                     Numbness?
                                                      S­orrow?
                                                          ­        Hopelessness?

Been there
              Addiction
                          Not shooting up
                                         Not popping pills
                                                    But devouring my addiction in masses  
                                                        ­           In order to fill the deep, hallow void
                                                                ­                                  Unable to break free

I envisioned the other day
                     That hope can fly away like a little bird
                                                 But it rests on the window sill while still looking in
                                                              ­           Like Emily Dickinson envisioned
                                                      ­         Still chirping its own song
                                                        For it's ready to fly back in
                                                  And roost
                                                
          ­                                               ~~~o~~~
          ­                          has wings
                   like that bird
           hope            
   For
Dorothy A Aug 2012
Rain,
long,
and luscious

At last


Rain,
saturating,
and satisfying

My thirsty soul


Rain,
inspiring,
and inviting,

Relief to my poetic drought


Rain,
nurturing,
and nursing

Nature, and all that is living
683 · Sep 2011
Ode To Mothers
Dorothy A Sep 2011
Of all the gifts I bring to you
they are but shadows of the single most wonderous gift
that you have given to me,
for you have given me the greatest gift of all,
You have given me life

I don't remember the pain of being born,
though I know I must have cried
And I know the agony of giving birth to me
was for you a very, very intense period of labor
But all that pain subsided,
and mattered to you no more
once you held me in your arms

And all my crying ceased
when you caressed me within your gentle hold,
soothing my infant fears,
and drying the tears upon my cheeks ,
For from that day on,
in those tender moments,
I knew that I would be safe with you

I may not have been the easist child
but I was yours
and you were mine,
my mother,
the woman who raised me
to know right from wrong,
teaching me by example
how to love
681 · Nov 2013
Melancholy Colors
Dorothy A Nov 2013
The sky is grey
Today, and I feel blue
Charcoal clouds
in my head

Leaves are finally brown
Ground laden, and down like me
No silver lining
In my murky-cloud view right now

Rainbows aren't gone forever
Clever colors I know I'll still see
But surely not today
For they all blend together in muddy hues
678 · Sep 2011
Shame
Dorothy A Sep 2011
Fingers pointing
like you're a disgrace
You want to run
and hide your face

Have you ever
felt so shamed
that you wished
you had no name?

Many of you knew dysfunction
Many of you knew a house of pain
You may never have measured up
When all you felt was shame

You got it from all angles
This ugly thing of blame
Parents, teachers, bullying peers
This terrible thing called shame

You wanted to be anyone else
But you did not want to be you
For being in your own skin
Felt too wrong to be true

You're much older now
You're much wiser, too
But sometimes memories stab
And shame the core of you

Everyone has potential and value
Realize it not, and you continue in the same
Believing in the old lies about yourself
Don't settle for a life of shame
678 · Jan 2011
Chains
Dorothy A Jan 2011
Chains!
Broken!

I have broken free!

Give me the credit? Don't bother!
All glory goes to God, the Father!

Through Jesus, His Son
The Holy One!

He showed me the key
He said, "Believe in Me"

And now I throw those
heavy weights aside
They've ruined my stride!

And I want them no more!

Chains!
Broken!

I have broken free!
Dorothy A Aug 2010
I am but a piece of fine china
Fearful that I may break
For you must know
My existence is at stake!

It is hard being a plate
A porcelain product, flat and round
One slip out of your fingers
I'm in useless pieces on the ground!

You see, people use me
Their knives cut, their forks poke!
I think they think of me
As some kind of joke!

I have been painted
A piece of china, glazed
When on display in a cabinet
I want to remain there for days

You wonder of my colors
Why I wear this hue
The world is like a peacock
but I remain blue

I stand with my brothers and sisters
Fearful my world will be shattered
Along with the vases and teacups
Along with the platters!

Why couldn't I be a ring of gold?
Why couldn't I be diamond?
To be worn and venture out on the town
Instead of this piece of china!

I often feel like I am drowning
In a sea of sudsy bubbles in a sink
But then I'm proud that I'm gleaming
After I am rinsed!

I'm tired of being filled with pasta
Sauces, gravies, nothing new
That is why my color represents me well
That is why I am blue!
Prince Poppycock on America's Got Talent wanted people to create art with a contest centured around fine china, the blue and white ones especially
676 · Nov 2009
This World
Dorothy A Nov 2009
I'd take this world
into the palm of my hand
and crunch it up
just like paper,
turn it into a vapor.

Not in reality
but in my head,
empty out all the wrong if able,
crunch up all the pain
wash it away with rain.

I'd start from scratch,
this earthly patch.
I'd breathe fresh air
and walk the streets
without any fear.

Yet people still hurt
on this hunk of dirt
that is our earth
And the world still turns
with much to learn.

And like the flowers
are the people truly like
growing only strong and upright
if love has no conditions
and is not a work of fiction.
675 · Jan 2011
Teach Me, Inspire Me
Dorothy A Jan 2011
Inspire me
and I shall
inspire you,
in return

Teach me,
and I will
teach you
right back

and we will
both be the wiser
for it

Two learned students
journeying down
the pathway of insight
Dorothy A Nov 2010
All earth creations
Nature and us quite the same
God does not make junk
668 · Nov 2010
Out of the Rubble
Dorothy A Nov 2010
Out of the rubble on the earth
Out of the land's darkest doom
I saw a flower bloom
haiku-like
666 · Nov 2009
A Reason to Be
Dorothy A Nov 2009
Hope is something
I do not take lightly
It gives me a reason to be
So I fight for the right,
the right to believe
In the things my eyes cannot see

Dreams come, dreams go...but hope,
an intangible more precious than gold,
most assuredly lingers on stubbornly
I cannot discard it or disregard it,
a promise the world cannot sway,
a result of God's divinity

Hope is something
that does not die easily
It gives me a reason to breathe,
so I fight for the right,
the right to take flight,
and the right to believe
Dorothy A Feb 2012
A woman needs to feel like a woman
and man like a man

Don't tell me that's anything new
It's been that way since the world began

A woman needs to reproduce love
It's part of her genetic make up
So do all that you can
Surround her with selfless love
And you'll be her man

Don't tell me that's anything new
It's been that way since the world began

A man needs to know he is useful
Not just a ***** donor
Not just a means to your own plan
Give him the respect he is due
And he'll be your man

Don't tell me that's anything new
It's been that way since the world began
Dorothy A Nov 2010
NOTHING

By itself,
It is a stark word
It is utter darkness
A bottomless abyss
A blank void
It has no part in anything
And matters to no one

But...
If God could take
A formless concept
And turn it into the universe--
The earth, separating the sky from the waters,
Creating the planets, our moon,
The air, the seas,
The animals and vegetation,
and certainly all of us,
Nothing now seems
To have tremendous value

When my faith has felt
Like a pile of rubble,
reduced to ruin from heartache,
From sin--all ways around
I am reminded of
The simple mustard seed,
A seed so small it seems
Nothing will come of it,
But in time it grows and rises
Beyond all expectations
To multiply itself beyond
Its humble beginnings,
And the birds of the air rest in it
To create a symphony of song

And so is our faith compared
For all it takes is that bitty spark
To ignite our faith,
Or to regenerate it once more,
Into something
Out of practically nothing

Before you and I  
Had existed on this earth
We, too, were like that seed
Conceived, soon a microscopic fetus
Developing from the oneness
Of our mother and father
And now we are here
Inhabiting this earth
From one, tiny spark
We became something
Out of practically nothing

So I dare not waste
Such a precious gift
Though life has been far from easy
Taking my pen in my hand
And sitting before a blank screen
Or an empty piece of paper,
And suddenly something comes
Out of practically nothing

And so let us all realize
What wonderful things
Are yet to be done
That have yet to come
Into existence
Looking unto God with thanks
For those capabilities
658 · Feb 2010
These Words of Mine
Dorothy A Feb 2010
These words of mine
I wish these words
could walk off this page
and travel across lands
and bodies of water
to encounter another,
sending a bit of myself elsewhere
even if I cannot physically do so myself.

These words of mine
I wish these words
to be at least somewhat inspiring,
to touch someone's heart and soul
or to at least make them think,
and help them to make meaningful words of their own.

These words of mine
Maybe one could visualize them,
or hear them without my voice,
smell the fragrance of their worth,
taste the salty and the sweet on their tongue,
like a concoction unfamiliar, yet palatble.

These words of mine
Perhaps they will never win accolades,
or thunderous applause,
but they have merit
for they are from the heart
and soul...
These words of mine.
Dorothy A Oct 2010
Note to self

Don't hide inside
Don't go within
By letting your light go dim

How often I have
tried to escape from the world
Going within instead of out
How often I have
felt safer in my own realm
and not in the thick of life

I learned early on
some survival tactics
that no longer serve me well
The cruelties of the world
were experienced
not only on the outside
but within my own home  
and I withdrew myself often
to survive

Now, how I work hard to shed
that old, childhood self of mine
By writing to express myself
By never stopping to learn
the wonders of this world
By subjecting myself
to pain and disappointment  
that I worked so hard
to avoid
as a child
Because life
is experiencing
the joy and the pain

P. S.

Note to self

*Journey on!
639 · Sep 2011
The Beast Inside
Dorothy A Sep 2011
Did you ever feel like you had
a ravenous wolf inside?
With a growling, empty stomach
that could not be satisfied?

Did you ever feel like you had
a wounded deer inside?
With a heart torn open,
apart a mile wide?

Did you ever feel like you had
a caged lion inside?
You couldn't unleash your anger
so was it tears that you cried?

Did you ever feel like you had
a lurking bear inside?
Your guts upside down in knots
but to the world you said, "I'm fine"?

Does the world ever feel like a zoo,
the bars containing you on the outside?
Can we smugly think we are lords of this earth
when restlessly struggles the beast inside?
639 · Oct 2010
Heaven Bound
Dorothy A Oct 2010
It will not a grave matter be
when they'll put me in the ground
For once I've breathed my last
I know I am heaven bound

For a heaping taste of hell
I have swallowed up like death
But God saved me, a sinner,
and now my soul's at rest
639 · Mar 2012
I Envy the Turtle
Dorothy A Mar 2012
He may be one of the slowest creatures on earth
And the hare may kick sand in his face

But when life gets too heavy handed
He folds himself up and shields himself from the world

It seems that God made this creature
With a heavy load to bear

But humans seem designed
With the weight of the world upon our shoulders

The heaviest load of all
638 · Mar 2017
Personal Limerick
Dorothy A Mar 2017
There was a girl born in Motown
Cold Detroit day with snow on the ground
I'm February's girl
An oyster's pearl
My writings become my voice, my sound
637 · Nov 2010
Sticks and Stones
Dorothy A Nov 2010
Sticks and stones
can break bones
And words can hurt
Words one blurts

Ugly words, razor sharp
Bruise the soul, rip the heart
I've felt their stabbing ache
Worse than bones that break

Yet I confess my tongue could lash
Careless words that now seem rash
Words like weapons meant to inflict
Bones heal--the heart's not an easy fix
637 · May 2016
Words
Dorothy A May 2016
Did we run out of words?
Is that why they rhyme so much?
I mean did we just get lazy?
Is the English language only like this?
I don't know

Luck...you're fortunate
Truck...remove the L and add TR...and now you're going places
Use  F instead and now you are being ******

Words can be confusing
Flower - flour
Son - sun
one -won
hour - our
Who was asleep on the job when this stuff happened?

Words are a writer's best friend
I couldn't be one without them
They are food for the eyes and the mind
I love the study of words
I could swallow a dictionary whole

Words can hurt
They can curse or bless
And words can also heal

Don't give up
You can make it
You matter in this world  

Some words I wish I could take back
But good memories don't forget
Some words I wished I would have said
But didn't

I love you
Please forgive me
I forgive you

Long ones
short ones
Their origins borrowed from foreign soils
Some have gone extinct for lack of use
Others were conquered by invading tongues

Pity
For words are wonderful
I love words

They connect us, the world over
Dorothy A Nov 2010
Those serial killers
**** for the sport of it,
with no remorse,
and just because they can
How their victims suffered!

The land contains their blood

The ones in jail
are like caged vultures
hungry to be free again
for more blood,
with a keen nose for
rotten stench
at their disposal

The only compassion
I have for those killers
is that their lethal injection
be administered
as quickly as possible

Yet this was never the case
for their victims
compelled to write this after seeing a CNN special about serial killers.....in honor of all those who died needlessly from serial killers
631 · Nov 2010
One That's Been Loved
Dorothy A Nov 2010
One that's been loved
Can survive a cold world
A despised soul cannot
Dorothy A Nov 2010
Without human touch
People become like flowers
Wilting in the drought
623 · Nov 2012
Thanksgiving Senryu
Dorothy A Nov 2012
Food on the table
Coming together to gorge
Forget not the thanks
622 · Nov 2010
The Desert (a haiku)
Dorothy A Nov 2010
No tree to shelter
The sun is hot as a flame
Rain does not reign here
615 · Dec 2010
If Poems Can Heal
Dorothy A Dec 2010
If poems can heal
Let mine reach the skies
As a prayer on the wings of a dove

I wish my words to be honest
And not just nice sounding or trite
I want them to have medicinal merit

Not just do I wish
That they would help me to feel better
But that they help another who is hurting
612 · Oct 2013
Stand
Dorothy A Oct 2013
Stumble
Struggle
Strain
But
Stand

From the little bird breaking forth from its shell
The fragile, newborn lamb
The wobbly walking baby

To the world-weary
Poor in body and spirit
The one losing stature

Oh, stand!

Can't do it on your own?
Grab a hand

Legs don't work?
I surely understand

For I do pray
That someone may
Get on up on his or her feet
Right there for your sake
In your place
And will
Stand
609 · Dec 2010
My Prayer
Dorothy A Dec 2010
Let me comfort another
who is down and out
Let me light a candle
in someone's life
Let me care about
someone other than myself
Let me be a leaning post
for someone who is limping

Lord God,
I don't want to die
finding I did not live in Your love
And that love is to bless others
607 · Dec 2010
Past, Present and Future
Dorothy A Dec 2010
The past exists no more
Yet it hangs about like a ghost
Often haunting us with regret
We want to right the wrongs
We want another chance
to do things over
that truly trouble us
but we are powerless
to its demands

The present is this very moment
And it must compete
with the apparitions of yesterday
that crowd into our thinking,
like smoke and mirrors,
and rob us of this precious instant
of time that we truly have right now

The future is an unknown horizon
Yet we either look forward to it
with great expectations
or worry ourselves into thinking
that it will overwhelm us
or that it will disappoint us  
It is not ours yet to possess
Yet like the ghosts of the past
it has no business
taking hostage of our thoughts
We want to have control of it
when it is not anywhere in reach
607 · Jan 2017
No Risks
Dorothy A Jan 2017
No Risks?
No problem!

Less embarrassment
Less troubles and headaches
Less pain

So no risks?
No problem?

What about achievement and success?
What about regrets of "almost, but didn't"?
What about settling for less than what is possible?

Yeah, risk is risky. It could invoke ridicule and scorn, rejection and slammed doors. It would be easier to play it safe. To risk is to be vulnerable and open to a world of hurt. Ultimately, it could involve danger and be life threatening.

Yet the world has been shaped by risks...technology, medicine, the arts, relationships and friendships, creating a family, alliances, acts of forgiveness, rescuing someone from certain death,  people being born...

When you put it that way risk is a pretty noble attribute and a value to esteem
606 · Aug 2022
Destination
Dorothy A Aug 2022
I see that plane in the sky
Like a big, mechanical bird
It makes its way onward

Where's it going?
Where's it headed for?

In my car
Waiting for the train
To finish crossing the tracks

Where's it going?
Where's it headed for?

That bicyclist
Looks like he's on a mission
Two-wheeled, manpowered movement

Where's he going?
Where's he headed for?

Their destinations are unknown to me
But I'm often a traveler in my imagination
Good ones, mostly, I embark upon

Where am I going?
Where am I headed for

I've seen a fair amount
Of different, actual places
New faces, abundant

I'm still gonna go somewhere
Still heading for yet another destination

Alive, and breathing
Dreaming hasn't stopped
And destinations still beckon
Dorothy A Nov 2010
All of creation
A purpose in this vast world
Fulfilled life is life
Dorothy A Feb 2014
This is my mission statement: To help those who have no hope to understand that there is hope, to help others to know that their lives have purpose and value.

Hopefully, prayerfully, my writings reflect this.
597 · Dec 2013
Recipe For Writing
Dorothy A Dec 2013
I write with my hands
          My fingers busily typing along to the dictates of my ideas
                                   Or I'm scribbling out my chicken scratch with pen in hand

I write with my eyes
          They are a telescope that examine and focus to the creation unfolding
                   As I am designing themes and cleaning up any grammatical  errors

I write with a purpose
                            And I often have to work it again and again
                                                      Until­ I think I have done what I set out to do

I write with my mind
           For the horizon of the brain is broad and keenly aware to what comes in its sight
                                           The imagination, as brilliant as a roaring sun

Most importantly.......

I write with my heart and soul
                  Giving my all, my everything within
                                         Genuine, personal, and proud to attach my name to

Without heart
                   Without soul
                                      I'd wish not to write at all

All these ingredients
                      Blend together in a harmonious cohesion
                                                        ­               And make for a good recipe
591 · Sep 2012
Accept Me As I Am
Dorothy A Sep 2012
Accept me as I am

But
      Please
                 Please
                            Please

Don't give up on me to be more
591 · Oct 2010
The Rose
Dorothy A Oct 2010
The rose
Though it looked lovely to the eye
it was piercing to the touch
Blood streaming down my finger

How deceptive is the rose
Delicate and intricate
but hidden with thorns
that pierce the flesh

Is that not life?
Such beauty
Such an ideal
But filled with ***** traps,
pains and trials

I guess we cannot have life
just in a perfect, little package
No rain
No rainbows

Joy isn't guaranteed
Pain is inevitable
Not just a beautiful creation
The rose comes with a price

Embrace it
and you may suffer
The price might be painful sting
as you gather up the jewel that is the rose

Isn't it odd
that the most celebrated of flowers
is one that bears its armor
like tiny swords?

Does it not reflect both
the beauty
and the pain
of life?
591 · Jul 2010
What Was I To Do?
Dorothy A Jul 2010
Death claimed to be
a friend,
offering whatever peace
I could buy

A drug dealer
on a ****** corner,
Death offered
the final solution

Sanity dangled before me,
like a gangrenous limb
needing to be cut off

So what was I to do?

Life said,
"Go ahead!
I'm sick of the way
you treat me!
I'm no longer
a precious gift
So go ahead!
Release me!

Fading in and out
of clarity,
walking the fuzzy details
of a wire,
I had to make a move

It was always a fumbled chess play
on a board game
I called this world
and I was the vanquished player
all too often

Life or Death
What was I to do?

I can't always claim
I have the right things to say
but I am far from making my words
silent in the grave

No flowers for my coffin,
no candle lit in my memory
Life need not hold a grudge
if I continue on with the cause

So after all that I have considered...
What was I to do?

Live life
588 · Jun 2012
Sadness (senryu)
Dorothy A Jun 2012
All the human race
Tear stained cheeks before laughter
Newborn's first response
587 · Jun 2010
Tears of Heaven
Dorothy A Jun 2010
Tears flee the sky
in mass exodus.
Rain showers our earth
with wailing water,
heaven crying for you
heaven crying for me.

Pity...I have none.
These eyes refuse to cry,
hearing not the plea of angels.
Weeping dry,
these ducts have closed,
as stubborn as the woman
who shut them down.

But though my heart sleeps,
my spirit wails its own song.
Pleading and mournful,
yearning to break free...
but compassion--
I have not to give it...
as God weeps for me.
February 8, 1997
587 · Jul 2010
Masks
Dorothy A Jul 2010
Polished to perfection
Just like marble
A museum piece
A work of art
Like ancient sculpture
In a gallery
My mask

Porcelain smooth
Sanded and coated
Becomes my mask
With my new features

The mask does not
Reaveal my wrinkles
Or any scars
I do have

I wear it
Whenever needed
Stoic and proud
My shield of armor

Don't you dare
See my sorrow!
Don't you dare
Discover my pain!
Or my faults
Or my weaknesses

Plaster on the outside
May be the mask
But vibrant to the core
Is the soul

The soul not hidden
It finds a way
To the surface
Like the sun
Shines from out
Of the thick, dark clouds,
Thick as fog

Masks crack
People rip them off of us
And nakedness is exposed
To yourself, a monster
The phantom
The devil, himself

To others it is a reminder
Of only themselves
The need to be masked
Calls us all
To cover up
To wear a veil
So others wont laugh at us,
Or judge us
Or make demands on us
Or cry with us

Shedding the mask
Reveals a confession
Who am I kidding?
Why must I hide?
Why am I afraid I'll be so frightening?
Am I more special than you?
The worst of the worst?

No, I am not

The sun cannot be shielded
By chronic darkness
For it will spill out of its prison
To burst out and dispel
Even the blackest of shame

When the Sun commands the Darkness
to scatter
Masks no long work
For self-preservation
Only the rats and their plagues
Run for cover
But we bask in the Light

Like that sustaining sun
Is the soul our sustaining core
When the soul peeps out
Like the sun
It shows a human being much more lovely
Than any mask
Designed for perfection
586 · Nov 2010
Birth (senryu)
Dorothy A Nov 2010
Mother's ache in birth
Baby fears brand new world
Neither free from pain
Dorothy A Aug 2012
Sometimes, writing a poem seems fairly easy
Everything just clicks together
You can see something worthwhile reading
With each, little keystroke
Or jot of the pen
So you write away feverishly and freely
And as if your hands were possessed
By Shakespeare himself
You have little desire to stop a good thing

Sometimes, writing a poem is fantastically frustrating
You work at it and work at it
Go over it and over it and over it - again and again
The lumps and the kinks and the lack of quality
Searching hard for that Wow factor
But it is just pretty much off center no matter what you do
And you feel so inadequate to fix it up right
So you either settle for it being less than hoped for
Or trash it in absolute surrender
Obliterating the work for good

Sometimes, I write
And I sit back with a sense of accomplishment and pride
Other times, I write
And I want to bang my head
On the most convenient, hard surface I can find
Preferably one with jarring pain
For the inspiration for good writing is rather weak and blah
Highly disappointing and distressing
As my literary brain feels out of order
The struggle to scribble out an idea in my head
Just won't quite translate well onto paper

For, I guess, such is the life of a writer
I fear my glory days of writing poems are over
That the best of my abilities are far behind me
And my story writing will soon grow redundant
Like yesterday's newspaper
But if I have surprised myself before
And the winding road of life and the ticking away of time
Manage to provide me food for thought
I may eventually encounter fresh, new inspiration
My talent not used up after all
Can I allow myself that hope?

For such a life is a writer


P.S.  
For such is life.........period
Dorothy A Jul 2010
Open the windows,
part the curtains
Bring light into this house,
natural and soft and sweet
Smell the morning air,
an air that is special to this hour

Hear the low activity
of the Saturday morning
Saturate yourself in the tranquility
of a new day
See the humble beginnings
of a fresh start
and be ever so thankful

Adopt its ways
Own the light inside
Fill your lungs to abundance
with the cool air
Get intimate with the late summer,
approaching autumn
kind of inbetween season.

Satisify your ears with the post-dawn hum
Sense the day that will bring life,
that allows you the gift of yet
another day of a beating heart
Give back to what it has given you
by living your life
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