Musings on personal growth, books, motherhood, writing, and more. "Every hour is saved from that eternal silence, something more, a bringer of new things." – Tennyson
A writing group I’m attending set a prompt of writing an “abecedarian” poem, which is an acrostic poem using the alphabet instead of a word or words. I had never written one before, so it was high time to try it out!
Inside a Writer’s Mind
Among my books and papers, I sit
Bent over a laptop and try to seduce
Creativity. She is not one bit
Disturbed that I have a story to produce.
Ease is not for writers, though. Our
Faces turn like flowers from dull
Ground toward light we see, whose power,
Hot like fire, alone can make us full.
I write because I love it—and yearn to
Join, someday, the ranks of great
Kings and queens of the old pen, who
Live in words and move my soul like freight.
Millions write and wait in line
Now, however, saying, like me,
“Oh, to be read! (to be paid!) to write fine
Pieces of art that makes one’s heart feel free!”
Quick and clear, simple and straight, this
Road is not. But still I write.
Sometimes I do feel worn and aimless,
Tuneless, hopeless, eclipsed by others’ light—
Until I shut out all else from my
View, and I rekindle the fire
Within. I won’t get what I want by
Xerox, but by keyboard, work, and desire.
Yes, my choice is to love my own voice.
Zeal renewed, I write like words are food.