Monday, June 21, 2010

Blank Pages

Blank pages excite and
Discovery, challenge, and
fear rolled together.
Fear of inadequacy,
that I'll run out of words.
Life will suck them out of me
and when I site down to
try to talk about Life I'll have 
no words left because
Life took them all.
Life in its Past, Present, and Future
Me, Myself, and I personas.
The Past in its three-cornered hat and powdered wig
standing over my shoulder, 
tsk-tsking because I don't measure up 
to the maestros.
The Present in its orange tan skin
and too big fake boobs standing beside me,
talking too fast and too loud for my
words to be heard.
The Future stands before me,
tapping its foot and checking its
holographic concept pocket watch,
telling me to 
hurry up and get there faster.
Meanwhile, I'm sitting at a
new wooden desk meant to inspire
head in my hands,
staring at a collection of blank pages.


  1. I recall actor/writer Steve Allen saying that when he died, he wanted to be buried with stacks of paper because he will still have works in progress and things left to write.
    Madame Perry's Salon.

  2. Thanks so much for reading and commenting! I would have to agree with Steve Allen; send me away with a pen in my hand and something to scribble on. :)


I love comments! All comments will be responded to as quickly as possible with gratitude, respect, and an open mind to viewpoints different from my own. If, however, a comment is hateful, derogatory, or vulgar, it will be deleted.