The Write Stuff
This is no laughing matter,
I cannot go to bed.
the Master Poets, like book-bugs,
are sleeping there instead!
The Write Stuff crowds my book shelves.
Words dribble down the wall.
I'll put them in my poems,
and not waste a one at all.
In dreams, I plant poems in the vineyard.
I eat them off the vine.
I would even mash them up,
and turn them into wine!
I have pads and pens and paper clips.
I'll thin them out someday,
along with old rejection slips,
that keep me writing anyway!
But I know the stuff
that really matters,
comes from God above.
And He freely gives it,
along with all His love.
___________________________
For Any old poem contest #9
By SKAT A
Poem: Feb. 2015
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Copyright © Darlene Gifford | Year Posted 2015
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