Can you tell me why?
Don’t feel like sharing any more,
Don’t even want to try,
Vanished has the lore,
I don’t know, I’m asking you,
It just happened over night,
What is a man to do?
Strange as it seems it might,
Things that turn my crank,
Powers that move the pen,
Put now safely in a bank,
And not on Authors Den,
Is it fatigue you think?
Or the critiques pain,
Maybe standing at the brink,
And going near insane,
I don’t know for certain,
Might it be, I have, or not,
Been too much a burden,
On all of you, the lot,
In any case, I need a rest,
I will not bother till,
New passions have me blessed,
New tears and laughter filled my quill,
But at the moment I do idle,
Protesting though I might,
Loosely hold the bridle,
Until, with new eyes see the light,
Should it not pass, that pen and ink?
Flirt again with veils of seven,
In thought I will not break the link,
For Authors Den, and you my friends, was heaven.©
hugs
gina
Hugs, Lin
In Spirit,
Bear
And you know what, the match felt on the grass alright, but people has been pissing over it for so long that the grass didn't started to burn.
Letter to the President, here, in AD, got three (3) responses, never took off (hope my neighbor's neighbor do it) never was there an spontaneous storm of e-mails but a "will never happen"
When a tree fells on an empty forest nobody ears it no matter how loud a noise it made.
Georg
EDWIN
Fee
You'll always be here; the very fact that you can write about a dry spell means there isn't one. Never give up, you're so much better than that.
John