This verse keeps bitting on my butt
I'm nothing more than a verse slut
Many times I wish I could
just keep my mouth shut
In comes the verse with
a big hard upper cut
Knocks me clean into the den
yes here I am again
Don't have to ask me
where I've been
I'm totally consumed
Sometimes I feel like I'm doomed
Here's to the good old days
when I never was a poet
Didn't know a darn thing
about the den
Never was shuffling words
trying to write books
Never even thought about
getting a review
or fighting over words too
Times were spent in the bar
drinking beer and wine
Yes those days were
just as fine
Don't bemoan (love that word) your Gift. It was given for a reason. Mine literally saved my life - be grateful for every poem you have penned; you've put a fragment of yourself into each one, One. :) I can relate, too. TRUST me.
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Don't bemoan (love that word) your Gift. It was given for a reason. Mine literally saved my life - be grateful for every poem you have penned; you've put a fragment of yourself into each one, One. :) I can relate, too. TRUST me.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.