The writer takes his pen in hand; thoughts
flowing out on every stand. For power,
wisdom, love and pain; writing it down
again and again. Mere words on paper in
black and white; nothing is wrong and
nothing is right. It doesn't matter for on
any day the writer will have the final say.
Some would gasp and some will sigh, but
once it is written and time goes by; too
late to erase the final word. Generations
on will have known and heard what the
writer thought on that day and hour. To
the ones speaking did not go the power; for
they had to read from the written page. Even
the singers that sang on the stage; sang
prose from the poets who took pen in hand
with the words that's been written in
every land. As the writer speaks for
everyone; once it is written it's said
and done.
Copyright Ó
2010 Wanda Lyn Carr
No comments:
Post a Comment