The Writer
The writer does become a trifle bored
With her schemes and stories and notes
And maybe other ideas she does hoard
Yet you see she still dotes
On her many thrills and elusive plots
Clutching tighter her much beloved pen
As she hurriedly scribbles and jots
Much as to sing is the nature of the wren
Still she sits in her melancholy manner
To stay until she feels success
But one cannot see into her clammor
Into her mind where ideas fill the excess
And still her graceful hand glides across the page
Waiting for another idea to take center stage.
With her schemes and stories and notes
And maybe other ideas she does hoard
Yet you see she still dotes
On her many thrills and elusive plots
Clutching tighter her much beloved pen
As she hurriedly scribbles and jots
Much as to sing is the nature of the wren
Still she sits in her melancholy manner
To stay until she feels success
But one cannot see into her clammor
Into her mind where ideas fill the excess
And still her graceful hand glides across the page
Waiting for another idea to take center stage.
♠ ♠ ♠
Wrote this for Freshman high school Honors English class, and then had to modify it so as not to rhyme for Sophomore Honors English. I liked the rhyming one better so that's the one I'm posting. <3I am terrible at Poetry, but I felt like this was very good, and I can identify it with myself.