The Writer and The Author Speak

The writer:
Deemed out of step in place and time,
I’ve lost the rhythm and the rhyme.

Alone I sit here all forlorn,
as others my life’s work do scorn

Though my best I have surely tried,
from all true praise I am denied.

Being the master of my fate;
alas, I fear I’ve come too late –

to form the words around the thought.
to write a work that will be bought.


The Author:
How dare such a thing you suppose!
You’ve much to give, to yet compose!

Arise! Arise! Your soul should sing!
From within, you have much to bring.

Take up your pen and write it well
the words you hear clear as a bell.

Write not for all the world to see!
Write them lovingly unto Me!

Copyright © 2006 by Karen M. Crump

© Copyright 2008 Karen (UN: armorbearer at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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