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Created on: May 10, 2009
Hour'sgone by yet the paper is still blank.
Something has happened I can no longer thank.
Although I can recall the years that's gone by.
When it comes to writing the paper I can only try.
It's like the paper is possessed in a way you want believe.
Up and down back and forth but nothings working for me.
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Poetry: The paper
The paper captures our passion,
For news invested with energy;
Immerse in characters of silent reaction,
Finding exemplar
As I crossed the street
I saw a piece of paper
lying in the gutter.
The wind caught it,
teased it,
fluttered it along.
In the lines,
Narrow passages,
Are margins for error.
Abounding characters of many type
Strewn through five short corridors.
by Paul Erland
A patron at Kentucky Fried
Is calmly eating chicken;
A newsman sits down by his side –
The plot begins to thicken.
by Kay Moorman
The Paper.
One who stares at me blankly.
A pencil in my hand.
Words rushing through my mind.
Plenty of words.
But witch
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