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A Confession

Those sanctified structures of verse, plot and rhyme--why do I find them no help to me now? I want to produce something imagined not recollected. My inner voice becomes tongue-tied; it trembles searching for the words to guide me to inspiration. So at times everything I write with the threadbare lack of genius seems wearily; worn-out ; hackneyed often painfully paralyzed. A mésalliance I admit Still I strive to caress the light.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




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Date: 1/21/2011 7:14:00 AM
very good, perhaps you start from a point YOU preceive to be real [remember even this is only YOUR reality] and jump off into Dali land with the surrealists! Best of luck with your leap of faith! ;) Light & Love
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Date: 1/20/2011 9:27:00 AM
Tis a writers own opinion, not the opinion of this reader and many other readers either I am sure. Always a pleasure reading your poetry Albert. Love, Carol
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