The door bell rang,
And the cat unleashed its fangs.
Running fastly away.
The note paper swooshed.
Setting the ink loose.
Killing a great novel of today.
Rewritten and reinked.
The author didn't thinking.
Keeping the cat at bay.
The once great novel,
Reduced him to a hovel.
As on the bookshelves it still lays.
©Odd
(although frantic, inspiration may not go with what you like. But if you work with it and not against it. It could bring to you something great)
Your feedback helps Odd understand what's working
Just a some what "odd" girl, living in what feels like a glass box. Hello Opuss, the savour of my sanity. my little private world amongst a life of being watched and watching.
I miss the days where my words flowed,. From the tips of my fingers down to my toes,. I felt the words in my bones,. Words and rhyme and lyrical flow,. I've always had a fascination,.
I only left the room for two minutes.. Two minutes, and nothing more. Yet while I was gone, taller shadows crept in and threw themselves across the floor.
It all starts with one, tiny letter. It's simple- It really is. Just a couple lines on some papers Is what started this whole biz. Put some letters next to each other, Now you have a word- who knew.
Writer's Block is so frustrating; It always happens when an idea is culminating. Every time you're about to pick up your pen, You're distancing yourself further from your plentiful zen.
In English class, we're learning poems and 'all about them'.
I think I might be a subconscious writer, I worked it out today, Doing my controlled assessment, In my own little way.
Take a Blank Page, Open up your Mind, Grab your favourite Pen, See what your imagination finds, Close your eyes And imagine, There is no wrong Or right, Your writing can Be light or shade, It can be...
I sit for hours thinking, In an effort to find the words. I scour my soul for experience And bare it all for you.
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