"Pencil shavings and dust,
Papers strewn about the floor,
Books lie open on the desk,
Smiles the silent keeper near the door.
What a home,
An abode to cherish,
The writer’s desk,
Ideas quickly flourish.
We sit, we sing,
We sigh, we think,
It’s the writer’s paper,
With imagination and ink.
Time is all the writer needs,
Time is all we ask,
With silent lips and ready mind,
We go about our beloved task."
Papers strewn about the floor,
Books lie open on the desk,
Smiles the silent keeper near the door.
What a home,
An abode to cherish,
The writer’s desk,
Ideas quickly flourish.
We sit, we sing,
We sigh, we think,
It’s the writer’s paper,
With imagination and ink.
Time is all the writer needs,
Time is all we ask,
With silent lips and ready mind,
We go about our beloved task."
---Briar Frost
3 comments:
This is a clever poem giving insight into the often sought solace of the writer. Thanks for the inspiration, I always enjoy your poems!
Thanks, I realize that only a few people would understand "The Writer's Poem." Oh well, what else is a blog for but to write you rambles and inspirations?
Arrrr!
I covet the way you put your thoughts in poem form, seemingly with such ease. Beatiful rhyme.
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