Sunday, September 21, 2008

SUNDAY IS FOR POETRY: The Writer's Milieu



Can a writer be so blind
That not a word of herself is understood
Afraid and paralyzed to see further than her pen?

Strewn papers of genius
Lay around for years
Unseen only by dust collected
And deep frown marks
Rejecting words and sentences
That run on, trying to escape
The hand in a catcher's mitt.


**written by petra michelle*

9 comments:

tipper said...

Writers and artists are their own worst critics. Neat poem Petra!

Mama Zen said...

Love this!

Wordcrafter said...

I love this, specially "trying to escape The hand in a catcher's mitt."
Thnaks for passing by my blog Petra.

Sandy Kessler said...

ouch maybe so

bulletholes said...

Years? How long did this one take?
I'm still looking for my 'First base" glove. Hah!

JR's Thumbprints said...

I've been throwing fastballs lately to certain editors, hoping their hands will sting with the impression of my words.

eric1313 said...

I sometimes feel like my writing hand is bound in a big leather mit too...

But if I stay with it, and find that magical area of trying but not trying too hard, things sometimes work.

Thank you for your visit, Petra Michelle. And yes, sandy/ibeati is a wonderful person to have in common.

Enzie at World Market Portraits said...

Same hold true for artists. There are plenty of photos of artists surrounded by their own work.

I like to think that the material is looking for the right person who falls in love with it and takes it to new heights.

I wanted you to know I love all your comments you leave on my blog. I wish I could do the same, but I am swamped with work at the moment!

Hello Mary Lou said...

I love this one!