Pen sick

Today, I want to share a little about my personal quest to become a writer. It is a poem that I wrote possibly years ago, rediscovered recently and edited and named three days ago.

The sleep is not in my eyes.

I can feel it in my legs,

My shoulders,

The swollen insteps of my feet.

The muscles of my arms

Are taut

But ideas flow as from

A broken dam.

Like a waterfall fuelled by

The raging rain

The words and sentences pour

Out a gripping yarn of sorts.

My eyes blaze with

The fire of my soul;

Livid with excitement of the tale.

I bid them rest.

They do not shut.

I yawn,

But only jaws tire-

Twelve hours since

My  midnight call to write.










Author: mywrite2016

I am a freelance writer living in the Caribbean country of Trinidad and Tobago. Author of three self-published books- No More Tears, To Kryss with Love and Dust Yourself Off and Try Again. I am the mother of two girls- 21 and 11 years old- a teacher and trained nurse.

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