First Hand

When passion strikes I fight, to write I run until No ones in sight And even still I always feel Exposed, afraid That’s my deal My burning chest It’s how I’m blessed My source of words I must undress Without the knife The pain of life I’d lose my drive My will to write

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Daniel Turner

Date: 2/7/2020 2:28:00 PM

It is most definitely cathartic! Another great one Anna!

Jesse Zerlaut

Date: 11/18/2019 11:30:00 AM

You've painted a canvas of what it feels to be a writer. I wrestle mostly with needing complete silence. I can move to be away from the noise and still by the time I get there lose my thought. Or start poetry, get distracted, go to return to it and find the energy I was throwing into it has vanished, like some form of lost magic. Well worded, I enjoy reading from your ink!

Anna Hopper
Date: 11/29/2019 8:10:00 AM

Oh how I can relate to every word in your response. I am either completely enthralled and nothing else seems to matter, or I can’t find a drop of passion.. anywhere. Once the passion is gone, it is gone.

Frances Schiavina

Date: 10/15/2019 1:09:00 PM

Well said! Beautiful rhyming deep poetry

Ts Poetry

Date: 10/10/2019 12:32:00 PM

Amazing write and rhyme scheme Anna...don't ever stop