Today will not be the day of making progress. Busy and tired were on the agenda, now sleep. Writer's group tomorrow. It is always a blast, so that will be fun. Maybe I'll catch some inspiration there. Can't think, much less type. Feel like I should post something of worth so here is a poem written a year ago or so. Don't normally do these, and haven't much of a clue on the mechanics, but was inspired. This is actually the least revealing of them all. Too "shy" to post the others. Can't believe I am actually timid in an any area. Usually don't care what people think. At all. Guess not always.
My soul is astir,
and my heart must concur.
Everyone around me thinks everything is all right,
I still am left restless at night.
To what effect does this have?
the next morning I feel bad.
If only I could figure out the source of this discontent,
I fear my view may be slightly bent.
For if I was seeing clearly,
I would know why my thoughts are so dreary.
Why when all is right in the world,
I feel so uncurled.
At those times in the night,
I feel God says, “Write!”
It is with him that I seem to fight.
Why do I resist him so?
He must be the one to know…
What is in my heart at this time,
that tends to be so hard to find.
I feel like the words on this page are jumbled,
my thoughts come through in a mumble.
Why do I get this block?
When I can’t stop looking at the clock.
Thinking I should be better at this by now,
if this were really the way how…