How Deep The Soul Of Poets Bleed

On Sheets Of White In Tangled Dreams

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how deep the soul of poets bleed                                                                                            on sheets of white                                                                                                                      in tangled dreams                                                                                                                    nor know the endless hour be                                                                                       between dark of night and morning                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 from birth of life til cold closed eyes                                                                                        a poets poem we read

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Writers and Poets bleed as if on sheets of white. The white with stains of red expose how bright and vulnerable. Deep inside we reach for words that come with pain. From life to death we write for all to read.

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Is writing your want or need? Do you write to breathe? Do they fall like rain or autumn leaves?

Writing Exercise:

Write a list of 30 words, then write a sentence for each. Write without stopping, until they fall from your mind to the page.

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