With Pen In Hand

With pen in hand

I sit and wait

Wondering what images

The Muse will deliver.

 

Some are bleak

And pain me so

But I write them anyway.

 

For in doing so

Releases me from

Demons I may not realize.

Or frees me of wounds

Buried long ago

And forgotten.

 

Whether I share them

Or not

Is entirely up

To me.

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About sandrabranum

I'm a philosopher, dreamer, poet, writer -- not necessarily in that order -- and I get to write it all down and share it with the world thanks to the Wonderful World Wide Web!
This entry was posted in poetry, writing and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to With Pen In Hand

  1. Sandra, here we are again, you with your introspective poetry and me with more books. Thanks for checking out my blog again. Be well. Thinking of you.

  2. Great poem, Sandy, and one I’m sure all writers can relate to!

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