When my pen sits idle
my words still twirl around
Within my busy mind
words tumble without sound
When my trowel sits idle
beside a four-pronged claw
From moist soil, seeds still sprout
without my heart's hurrah
So, when I do not write
nor in my garden toil
Creation still occurs
despite idle turmoil
But when I take control
with pen or trowel or claw
My purpose kindles flame
from which my heart can draw
When I let life happen
I feel I am Fate's toy
When I guide my effort
my life is filled with joy
Copyright 2021 - 2024 by Cleomez (all rights reserved)
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
Growing Hope and Breathing Life
Não FicçãoHow should I handle passions that are very different? Is it possible to build a bridge between a gardening passion and a writing passion? How do I resolve my desire to write both prose and poetry? And how do I indulge a desire to paint and photog...
