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Spreading whiteness before my eeys waiting for letters, letters making words making syllabic riffs. Empty page reflects blankness of a mind's vocation: No Thinking Allowed ... to no purpose. Its time to trade this page for prose. Unamused muse empty now in an 8 x 11 world of stark, bright wood pulp pressed flat as my brain.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 9/11/2009 10:27:00 AM
so many possiblities!!
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Date: 9/4/2009 10:53:00 AM
Soup mail, please?
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Date: 8/15/2009 11:41:00 AM
Oh my Sue, having poet's cramps, or crams, I thought do did quit well, Lol Enjoyed the read, witty performance, Sincerely Moses
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Date: 8/15/2009 9:28:00 AM
Loving this Sue. I missed some of the excellent poetry written and posted here yesterday. I am enjoying reading them this morning. Thank you for sharing yours. Thank you for all your comments. Love, Carol
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Date: 8/15/2009 7:22:00 AM
You seem to be describing me in this piece, Sue, and if you are you can't be more correct. A dried up well, a musician that can't play a note...more harmless than a eunuch! And yeah, pressed flat as my useless brain! Any prescription? LOL Fred
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Date: 8/14/2009 3:04:00 PM
Sometimes that piece of 8/11 white, seems to be glaring back at me!! Love the last line of this!!
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Date: 8/14/2009 2:45:00 PM
I can really relate to this one. Loved the last stanza. Creative use of imagery. What an interesting slant on the challenges of writing. Good one!!!! Karen
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Date: 8/14/2009 1:58:00 PM
Don't fret, Sue, we all stare at that empty page from time to time. And there's no harm trying a bit of prose. When I stare at paper, I get little inspiration. I find my inspiration when I raise my head and look around. Very true depiction of writer's block! You scored big time for me with this write. Love, Carolyn
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Book: Shattered Sighs