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Post by sc on Apr 7, 2020 11:29:34 GMT 9.5
My tied head sits upon my pen, though my mind of words insist.
it is my pen that doth cease.
Upon the break of dawn, those beautiful words not found.
yet upon the grounded floor of thought,
the trailing fragments of my words are found.
Leading back from whence they came. From thought, words fountain through mind and pen again and again.
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Post by fjrogers on Apr 8, 2020 15:04:36 GMT 9.5
Very good ground work there sc.
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Post by sammy on Apr 17, 2020 3:37:15 GMT 9.5
My tied head sits upon my pen, though my mind of words insist. it is my pen that doth cease. Upon the break of dawn, those beautiful words not found. yet upon the grounded floor of thought, the trailing fragments of my words are found. Leading back from whence they came. From thought, words fountain through mind and pen again and again. This is perty much my daily life haha! Well worded and collected! Excellent poem! |
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