The Day of Rest
So, it is another Sunday morning
after a restless night, dreaming about
a manuscript I couldn't find
I have many manuscripts, but the problem is
to be unknown, publishers want
money up front
Last time I sent a manuscript for a book
The publishers said it was great
I paid 400 euros, which I called great, but
The publisher has vanished and does
not answer my calls
I will remain unknown and asleep
I used to type my words, but now
Everything is stored in my computer
That is a bonus, no need to look
at my work, except dreaming about it
Only God etches the lasting tattoos in the walls of the heart.
If doors remain unlocked,
that's the name of the one,
that compels a fresh start.
Free room and board, and a free ride,
saves money up front.
But without love,
it just leads to another hunt.
It's time to get off the boat,
that is still adrift.
Learn how to write together,
an award winning script.
I want a hand to hold down memory lane.
Real not imagined,
only way to win the game.
Do we really care,
where we go and what we see?
As long as there is acceptance,
of you as you, and me as me.
Can't we get past looking at our wrinkled skin?
Start looking again, what lies within.
Can't we feel again a trust we had then lost?
Isn't this the most valuable gift,
whatever the cost?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.