I hear the voices again
They come mostly at night
Whispers
Louder than any shouted words
They haunt me
Telling me I can’t
And even if I could
I would not
That I haven’t
Ever
That I never will
I haven’t got IT
They say
Talent
They mean
The thing I need above all else
It isn’t there
They whisper
Give up
They screech
You won’t ever do it
Ever
Doubts
They whisper louder
Than any scream
Boy, don't I know it. However, I just tell them to shut up and get up and write, write, write, just to spite 'em. Believe me, Sue, when I tell you, YOU CAN. 'Cause I've seen it.
Well done--
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
I look forward to many more of your poems--so get crackin! LOL
I agree with Jerry. Don't listen to voices, belive in what makes you happy to do, and do it regardless of what voices you've heard.
Sandie Angel a.k.a. Sandie May Angel :o)
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on June 1, 2005
Hiss on 'em. As I always say, "Nobody is perfect, I'm nobody." Actually I don't say that, it was a bumper sticker I saw. Don't let the "I can't's get you."
Yea I agree with george on this one, we all have our doubts from time to time but we have to keeep on plugging like the great writers
that came before us and the ones who are yet to come.
Doubt is insidious ,and if you don't quash it right away it can become a monster. If this is personal, get rid of by concentrating on your good points. Go back and read some of your reviews on past poems, and see that we think you've got it!
Book 3 continues the Commander and the Chief's adventures in political intrigue, superstition, old feuds, and the search of Nikola Tesla's missing papers in this Close Encounter of the Weird Kind.
Boom! Pain! Blackness!
After an RPG attack on their barracks in Afghanistan, corpsmen, Amber Fox and Luke Owens wake up in an Army hospital in Germany.
Thus, begins a four-month recovery for both of them. Amber lost her left leg bel
Jason Chase, a man filled with personal demons, only wanted to finish his manuscript. But all his carefully laid plans disappear when a stranger showed up at his front door claiming to be his long-lost father.
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Love Tinka
Boy, don't I know it. However, I just tell them to shut up and get up and write, write, write, just to spite 'em. Believe me, Sue, when I tell you, YOU CAN. 'Cause I've seen it.
Well done--
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
I look forward to many more of your poems--so get crackin! LOL
Sandie Angel a.k.a. Sandie May Angel :o)
that came before us and the ones who are yet to come.
Felix
Eileen