The Sands of Rhyme

Twilight, and the Moon-lit waves Tranquilly crashing upon the shore A draught of drink is all I crave, My sordid Past... all I deplore Do come to me, for I am the Beach, Please quench your thirst; drink dry my sands My ambitions seem far out of reach As I write my life with pain-stricken hands

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April Gabriella

Date: 9/1/2013 4:50:00 PM

"As I write my life with pain-stricken hands" This, I have a feeling will go round and round my head.

Just That Archaic Poet
Date: 9/1/2013 7:13:00 PM

I think (and hope) all artists can identify with that last line, for "As I write" can be interchanged with adjectives like "paint, strum, etc." There was a time in my life when I kept a constant journal and I wrote and wrote so much that I was sure carpal tunnel wasn't far behind. Anyway, glad that last line stuck, and thanks as always for stopping by, April :)