tidbit of the day…

“It is never to late to be what you might have been.”

– George Eliot


I found this poem that I wrote many years ago.  I can’t remember the last time that I really sat and wrote.  I would like to start writing again, but at the time I wrote this I was going through a really hard time.  Sometimes I feel that my writing is best when I am in a “bad” place.  When I am happy I don’t seem to connect with writing as much.  I don’t know if that makes any sense to anyone else, but it does to me.  The last couple of years I have been in the most wonderful place and hope to never be in that “bad” place again. But does this mean that the connection with writing has been severed?

Just a moment in time
The movie in your mind
Put aside the whispers
Filter out the doubt
You search for something that isn’t there
Am I a mystery? I think not
You listen to my voice, and call me an angel
This angel is flesh and blood
Not a doll to be put out on show
You – I am not a mystery
I am me
I am flesh and blood
Touch me please, I will not break
There is no mystery here
I am me
Here I am – desire abound
Relentless and sensuous – yours to caress
Like a flower; make me bloom
I’m not a mystery
I’m just me.


2 thoughts on “tidbit of the day…

  1. I’d say we should find a poetry writing group, but I don’t know when we’d go. The one at the CC B&N meets on a night I teach this semester. Maybe after this semester?

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