She writes what comes to mind
a variety you will find
among the pages
in stages
war she wages.
Battle between heart and head
words lead where she was led
down the trodden lane
where other souls were slain
amidst a bitter pain.
Logged into anthologies
books of apologies
for so many mistakes
over all that she takes
in the happy life she fakes.
No, no she cries all around
search amidst the blood soaked ground
you do not see
beyond your red letter editing of me
all that I could be.
Spiral notebooks clutched to her breast
her children with her in final rest
and where paper meets pen
and ever after then
the censor will not win again.
I was very sad when this was accientaly deleted because I couldn't find a copy of it anywhere. Recently I dug out half a dozen or so of my old notebooks and there it was. I knew it had to be respoted as soon as possible. So here it is.
My Review
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wow. this one's pretty awesome! I feel the same way about writing, yet I want to be an editor haha. Doesn't make much sense, but hopefully I'll be able to contribute to preserving writer's voices as much as possible. Thanks for writing this out. And I can definitely see why you featured this one.
To censor someone's writing is taking away part of who they are though in this piece I get the censor being the person themself holding back to try and please others till they realize that they need to be the real them... a great piece, glad you reposted.
this reads just as a natural sonnette and flows with the sncerity that only an artist can render,
I loved the way the meaning comes to life with a refined sense of purpose.
there are many ways to look at the meaning as a whole and the caption adds to the effect.
subtle and magnificent. you are a poet's poet no doubt.
This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,-
The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty.
Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet .. more..