I put on my thinking cap
Then there’s a crash.
I think; “What the hell was that?”
I investigate the entire house.
Turns out it was just a psychotic cat.
Instead of going back to what I was doing
I move onto something else.
Everything else forgotten.
Poof go the thoughts
That had been running through my head.
Double the pages later
I remember I’m it
So I sit down again
I get 12 lines out…
And it happens again.
I got involved in a TV program
So I come back…
And it happens again.
Poof go the thoughts
That had been running through my head.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
Welcome!
The poems in this beautifully bound book are a result of over twenty years of observations. Observations of the world around us and on the telecommunications network. All of the hate, love, heroism, disasters, and those who help.
Beautif
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Robin
Be safe,
Karen
Interesting...yes that can happen.
Smile, I enjoyed reading this different pov.
Have fun and take care,
From the Heart of an Artist...