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I write

There came a point where my writer’s hands stopped writing And the writer’s block started biting And my soul stopped fighting And I was flipping lost I wanted to scream my truths From the tops of the highest roofs But my talent was aloof Because I flipping forgot I gave up and in And blocked my passion from within And put down the paper and pen I got caught It wasn’t until my cousin died And my auntie asked me to write As hard as it was I fought that fight I began My words weren’t empty anymore And I opened up that door To allow my intent to be felt and my words to soar I write again The passion never died it just took a break Like a sunny day at an empty lake Full of loneliness and heart ache I gave in I have rekindled my fire From the depths of its own ashes My blood her ink My skin her paper I let it bleed From the center of me I write.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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Date: 5/1/2016 8:39:00 AM
I can relate, I stopped writing for 7 years and when my step dad died I wrote a poem on Christmas Day called Bob's Christmas. Two years later my first book was published and is now in second print. My next book should be finished sometime this year. So I say, ride the wave, you never know where it will take you.
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Date: 5/1/2016 8:39:00 AM
This is the best poem I have read today! You have skills.
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