2003

Too many thoughts unfinished,
How will I get them all down?
The tormented writer says with a frown,
To the outside world, I must seem a fool,
Going to creative writing school,
Pen and notepad in one hand,
Scribbling of a distant land,
Staring at the board in thought,
As the next great poet's taught,
Images come alive to me,
And dance my mind incessantly.

Inspiration from a gorgeous dream,
Lookihng at the TV screen,
Tears with friends and laughter with strangers,
A brave new world,
With cretain dangers,
But alot of beauty too,
Mountains white, Oceans blue,
Storms roll across the skies,
Watched by a thousand fearful eyes,
Sands whisper over a desert dune,
Craters visible on the moon,
Every face tells a story,
Hope, defeat, prayer and glory

Kids play hopscotch in the street,
Mamas making food to eat,
A monkey resting in the mist,
Damp treebark hanging from his fist,
Nearby under city lights,
Drunk people are having fights,
And the hospital begins to flood,
With injured people losing blood.

Hoping God is by their side,
Unlike mortals who have died,
Back toi work with a doctor's not,
Files stacked, Papers wrote,
Pigeons flutter on the building roof,
Calls to lovers from a payphone booth,
So much movement all the time,
Thought and motion fill this rhyme,
But so much has been unsaid,
Alas, Goodnight I'm going to bed!

Copyright. 2003 Anna Marshall