Womb of Waiting

They used to just come flying out
In a wild dance of listening and spinning;
Those Nouns, adjectives, verbs
Tumbling over each other
Creating a word puzzle of thought and feeling
Pictures of story, becoming paragraphs of lyrical pain ;
Artists bleed words from wounds
Slashed by the sharp , steel edge of sorrow.
Now they are slower to come, and harder to convey,
Those poems and prose of seeking....
Contentment is complacency to creativity ,
But waiting lets the deeper meaning come in perfect timing.

Reviews

[Junie Souffrant]

#writersblock.... We have all been there and it sucks... I enjoyed reading this piece

[Ed Hart]

i know, in know, yes i know...good by to you my long time friend...