What happens when you can’t finish a poem? When it’s not like the others? When it doesn’t know what it wants or how to be? When you feel tired even feeling one of the words, the same line you’ve been staring at for a month and it’s lost all meaning? Was it not supposed to be written? Is it as disappointed in you as you are in it? Is it better to mourn the dead or to keep pumping breath in to it?
Not like the others
Comments
2 responses to “Not like the others”
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My thought – put it aside. Nothing has to be decided today. What falls short today may sound brilliant tomorrow. You lose nothing by waiting; you gain time and possibility. xo
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thank you, Marylinn. I’m hopeless and full of hope at the same time. It may be asking that of me.
xo
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