And then, it all went silent.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Indistinct POV
Lately, it has been a lot of false starts and eventual stops. Words occur to me, like;
She knew she had mistake when they got in a fight on the first night of their honeymoon. In a jacuzzi suite at a Holiday Inn Express, he had screamed at her and stormed out. He returned hours later, smelling of whisky.



Or not quite thought out poetry like this:
The clouds embrace the mountain tops and kiss the ridge lines
Leaving one last lingering layer of snow on the edges of my vision
or this:
Hate, a word often used to quickly
Patriot, a word often used to freely
Faith, a word often used without examination
Hope, a word often forgotten in lost lamentation


Freedom, a word often misused by the misguided
Truth, a word often misused by the prophets
Indivisible, a word often used by the dividers
Change, a word often shunned by those wearing blinders


Altruism, a word often forgotten by the powerful
Greed, a word often used in admiration
Justice, a word often used by the unjust
Need, a word often tainted by mistrust
Small spurts, that suddenly become literary dead ends. I hope this passes soon. It's like I have a block between the stream of consciousness that defines much of writing is and the actually work of putting it on paper. Diane gave me a good idea to break out of this funk. I think I will start on it today. Maybe this will finally break this weird bit of writers block.

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