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Writer’s Block The path to inspiration starts Upon the trails we’ve known; Each writer’s block is not a rock, But just a stepping stone.
Poetry Is Not Penned to the page Waiting for us to admire. It is only a lonely thought Caught by tears on fire.
Silent Echoes A quiet rhyme upon a page Is what a poet gives; Some gentle words whispered in trust To see if memory lives.
Bard From Deadlines What makes a poem finally work Is not the time it takes; It’s how the poet used the muse To prophet from mistakes.
Be Mused The art and craft of poetry Are not so far apart; The craft comes from the cunning, The rest comes from the heart.
Fine Vintage Don’t plant your poem on the page As though you’re hanging drapes; It’s shape and flow should come and grow Like wild summer grapes.
Getting It Write Writers write what they know best, Their passions, fears, and dreams; Writers rarely write about What other call their “themes.”
Double Vision A writer’s life is paradox, It’s more than what it seems; We write of our reality, The one inside our dreams.
Poetry The echo of a promise, The thunder of a sigh, The music of a memory, A child asking why.
Letter Perfect Twenty six symbols arranged on a page Can send a soul to heaven or torment it with rage, Can free a fragile world or hold it in its net-- The power and the magic of the mighty alphabet.
The Write of Passage The jump from writing just for fun To getting paid for it Begins when you first realize You know you’ll never quit.
Pegasus It is not the magic of his wings That sets us free from our bond. It is the muse within ourselves That lets our words lift us beyond.
Photo Poet Consider your mind the darkroom, Consider your life the lens, Consider your eye the camera On whose focus the poem depends.
Rising Moon A poem is a rising moon Shining on the sea, An afterglow of all we know, Of all we hope to be.
Star Light Writing a poem, Reaching a star, In making good art We find who we are.
Spider Web A poem is a spider web Spun with words of wonder, Woven lace held in place By whispers made of thunder.
Re-Verse The final draft upon the screen, At last my poem’s through; A verse of only four short lines-- I rewrote twenty-two!