The blank page sits in front of me,
The words in my mind drop onto it
And create something for others to read.
It may be good,
It may be bad,
But those words have left my mind
Clearing it for others to come.
They may be words of happiness,
They may be words of sadness,
But each time the page is filled
The words will be different,
Different from the words once written.
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Author:
Goldfinch60 (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 6th, 2022 01:28
- Comment from author about the poem: When the song "The House of the Rising Sun" in 1964 I was at senior school and it had such an affect on us all that my music master played it to us in class when it came out.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 32
Offline)
Comments6
Good write Gold.
Thanks Orchi.
lovely poem, thanks
Thank you Katrina.
Andy
The evil and destruction going on today in Ukraine has zapped my creativity for the time being.
Although arguments took place within the animals as to which member wrote house of the rising sun there were much older versions of it floating around long before the 60's UK blues revival movement.
I can understand your feelings d a, it is appalling what is happening in Ukraine.
It is still a great piece of music no matter who wrote it, we have sung it in the Choir which was great.
Andy
Great write Andy!! A lovely thought.
Thank you Christina, much appreciated.
Andy
I love the symbolism of this poem, I can visualize each drop forming a word. The constant churning of thoughts, so much to share, so much to write.
Thank you Bella, yes there is much to share in life.
Andy
Long as those words continue to come Andy. Well done. 👍
Thank you AP, I am sure those words will continue.
Andy
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