so many writers complain about not knowing what to write about and writer's cramp!!!!!this piece might help some and others will be most upset....at least a little upset...
Up To Me
It is up to you they say to me
To do what is there for you
No holds barred in all degrees
No matter what the content be
Oh dear I say what shall I do
Nothing is there for me I see
About which to write
So wait I do till it comes through
To do what is there for you
No holds barred in all degrees
No matter what the content be
Oh dear I say what shall I do
Nothing is there for me I see
About which to write
So wait I do till it comes through
To write upon my wiki page
Inspiration
Moan and groan I could
As other writers often do
When not a subject can they find
To write about
Instead of letting all the world
Inspire them
Look carefully at that word
In spire
Begins it does with letters IN
A pointer there for all to see
If open up they would to what lies within
Themselves
As other writers often do
When not a subject can they find
To write about
Instead of letting all the world
Inspire them
Look carefully at that word
In spire
Begins it does with letters IN
A pointer there for all to see
If open up they would to what lies within
Themselves
Allowability
Each one of us a font of knowledge
Knowing quite brilliantly
All there is to know
If we allow it
Sometimes this is not so
Misuse
Abuse
Is what some show
Of words and deeds
Suchlike as these
Knowing quite brilliantly
All there is to know
If we allow it
Sometimes this is not so
Misuse
Abuse
Is what some show
Of words and deeds
Suchlike as these
Writer's Cramp
Then writer's cramp appears it seems
Not fingers no but of the brain
Slows down it does and goes to sleep
Frightened maybe of what it may see
Closing down again in-side
Not letting creativity arise
A welling up of words sublime
Put down on paper perchance to rhyme
As I do
Shake yourself awake
You sleepy head
The world is your oyster
To pick and choose the words you use
A great flowering page has then begun
and so it does...
Not fingers no but of the brain
Slows down it does and goes to sleep
Frightened maybe of what it may see
Closing down again in-side
Not letting creativity arise
A welling up of words sublime
Put down on paper perchance to rhyme
As I do
Shake yourself awake
You sleepy head
The world is your oyster
To pick and choose the words you use
A great flowering page has then begun
and so it does...
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