The Pen Goes Dry Comments
How I wish I could write
That life's a bed of roses,
It's not one hell of a fight
With ugly wounds and bloody noses,
...
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The ink like a spring flood Sweeps all before it as thoughts are understood. And words put to paper, like stones Keep the water in the course where it belongs. Until phrases clear Become a river of thoughts to share. Then the emerging prose or poetry Burst forth from the estuary into the sea. Challenging you to write some more! s
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8/14/2025 2:14:32 PM # 1.0.0
a good introspection....well presented...written well nice to read...splendid poem...10