My Poetry

An Oath to the Writer

To the mind that works busily a day

To form the stories, you long to say

To the pen and to the paper

Who forge and create,

Constitute and generate

Words from the hand that paints.

To the inspirations, the memories carved.

To those who critiqued and those who exalted,

To those who wondered, pondered and gratefully received.

To the various mental states that allowed for such ideas to emerge,

And to the places where these tales came to life.

To those characters created, who alive in heart

Make the writings on a page almost seem absolute.

To the audiences who perceive novels as second to breathing

And breathe these anecdotes as if nothing else exists.

To the sharers, carers, lovers and the faultfinders,

Gratitude comes in your admiration and your dislike.

And an Oath to the writer, with whom I share this title

Indebted to you for following your dreams,

While neglecting the ones who told you could not

And in mind of the ones who saw your capability.

And an Oath to the Author, for without heart and desire

Our words would never have made it onto the lines of a book

And our stories never further from the page.