Blank space within a golden box.
Words-visions, a creative paradox.
I stop, I think and then--I ponder.
I create a poem of my minds wonder.
Where's a sky of discard poems passed.
Piles of crumpled paper tossed at dawn.
Magic visions shared for all VN friends.
Visions, creations, (WRITE) box sends.
Clarify, please mind, desicde.. to rhyme.
It'll be on the Voices Net, all in due time.
Glamorize the words, pick a firm plot.
All our poem's created with what we got.
A "title", hum... what shall it be?
"Within the Golden Writers Box of Voices Net"
Yep, that's what it'll be.
Categories, oh my, we all have in common too.
Picked from lists choices of two by two.
Its almost complete. Oh, what a relief.
It's about time to press (SAVE) for all to see
Just to see, the kind of writing a poem suits me.
I'll sign my name-- as I must do.
Add the date, finally...all done, 'Shwooo!'
It wasn't to hard, but the time I've spent
Nope, not to bad, good, even benevolent
And with myself I must show how I too agree
Writing poems, yep, sets our poet's heart's-- free.
Linda Bates Terrell
Written © July 18, 2013