Ya ever wonder what to write about? Have you ever started writing something, and it just didn’t feel right, so you deleted it? Some days do you ever wonder why you try to write stuff, when you don’t feel like writing at all?
Boy is I glad that never happens to me.
Actually, it happens to me all the time, and still, I write.
I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. We are where we are because we’re supposed to be, and that means when I sit down to write, there’s nothing else I’m supposed to be doing, but boy does it feel as though there is some times.
No matter what, I hope I will never lose the passion to write, and I hope you won’t either.
Grab a keypad and tell the world what it is that you’re supposed to be writing about. Deal?
This is April the 13th, and this is still National Poetry Month. Please excuse the following piece, for I sometimes know not where the keys will take me.
Have a great Thursday night, and happy writing.
What am I supposed to write now?
How will my fingers figure out which keys to strike next?
My kingdom for the next sentence!
A fleeting phrase for the empty line please!
Can you help an old man across the page?
Can you spare a morsel of text for a wandering poet?
Care to indulge me in a pondering pronoun or two?
Am I lost, or has my train of thought left the station?
How does everyone keep finding stuff to write about?
Where have all the good stanzas gone?
How on earth am I supposed to find my way to the bottom of the page?
I seem to have misplaced my F key.
If I can’t see what I type, will I know when to stop?
If it doesn’t rhyme, does it really matter?
Where have all the words gone!
Who turned out the misspelled lights?
In a befuddled aftermath of confusion, I pull up along side an informative collection of lingering parodies containing an adolescent glance through a prism of chance that surrounds a writer’s fancy with exactly the same thing that has always had a tendency to soar up from the artistic well of writing abyss to circle around at the edge of yesterday’s possibilities and settle in on tomorrow’s imaginations of the heart.
Ok, now what else do I write?