My Garden of Thought (A Poem)
What am I to do?
I stare out at the blank field.
I'm trying to write, but the words are lost,
like chaff in the wind.
My mind feels as if it has been ravaged,
like a tornado leaving destruction in its wake.
The river of creativity is dry and barren.
What will I do?
A sorrow is felt deep within my heart,
as I search my seeds of creativity,
for the lost words of wisdom and humor.
My thoughts that use to fly high, free as a bird,
now are like a rock,
drowning in the bottom of a murky lake.
I have seeds of words with no meaning,
and seeds of meaning with no words;
fluttering thru my mind like butterflies.
What am I to do?
The troubles of life are creeping in.
Their thorny vines struggled to choke out
my garden of creativity.
Like a child that has ran away from home,
my words flee and hide from me.
“Oh Lord,” I pray,
“What am I suppose to sow today?”
In the Garden (Song)
I sit and stare at a screen so white,
I feel blinded by the light.
I sift the soil of my mind.
Then a word peeks out
of my creative garden,
dark and fuzzy at first.
Gradually it's growing stronger as it creeps closer.
Soon another and another follows the first,
till I have a row of them to complete my thoughts.
How about that?
I have finally done it!
A story blossoms from its tiny seeds of thoughts
Becoming tall trees and vines
in brilliant displays of colorful descriptions.
After hard work of sowing and tilling in the field of editing,
my garden is complete...the story is done.
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