I'll write when the sun is at rage. Commit when the dark hours cage. I chase words not recognition. The craft seizes me free to flow. We like blue tits playing kiss-chase in the hedgerow. I put down not for he,thee,nor she. I write not even for me.
When the Soul Cried Out for Meaning
I'll write when the sun is at rage. Commit when the dark hours cage. I chase words not recognition. The craft seizes me free to flow. We like blue tits playing kiss-chase in the hedgerow. I put down not for he,thee,nor she. I write not even for me.
Writing is cathartic!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for reading š And leaving your lovely comment take care.
LikeLike
I love this sweet poetic self-talk
Concisely detailed
LikeLiked by 1 person
I like this very much
LikeLiked by 1 person
It pleases me that you do thankyou . hadnt written for a couple of days a self pep talk i think ha.š
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lol well I will give you a pep talk. Smiles.
LikeLike