Hemingway said, first drafts are crap.
I don’t agree at all with that.
From life, use what's heard and felt,
Just can’t sleep until the words poor out.
Take up space inside your head.
Empty them out on paper instead.
Inside your skull, brain cells howl.
As you’re thinking of the perfect vowel.
Poke at your mood, persistent perturb.
Shovel in hand, dig deep, perfect verb.
Verbs to me are truly the goal.
Like alphabet soup, float in a bowl.
Try your best, to catch in a spoon.
Pay close attention, or thought leaves soon.
Getting a bad case of Carpel Tunnel.
Big words spill out, small end of funnel.
Are all writers, very deep thinkers?
Or, just a bunch of heavy drinkers?
Me, not sorry, no need to coddle,
Yo, Bartender, just leave the bottle.
In this child, who would have known?
Beats a heart so very forlorn.
Poets, writers, approach, forthwith!
Praise yourself, your talent, wordsmiths.
Helps to stop loose ends from fraying.
Hope you’re feeling it, know what I’m saying.
Price you pay, dull pain in wrist.
A couple of aspirins, help with this.
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Author:
WriteBeLight (
Offline) - Published: November 10th, 2016 06:09
- Category: Humor
- Views: 26
Offline)
Comments2
Wonderful poem and great rhymes! I really enjoyed reading this.
Thanks so very much chrissy8! My wrist does hurt sometimes...from making paper snowballs out of my first, second, third and so on drafts. Thanks for reading!
In you brain these little jewels lodge,
For fuel, renewal your hearts desire. To scribe them here pain required.
Wish that wrist to gain a massage.
(Sorry could't help it.) Kudos.
Like that very reflective reply! I totally agree with your message about renewal. And, again, your videos are really great. Keep on keeping on..:)
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