I attempt to scribble each day,
Ever since I met Shakespeare I wanted to write,
Since I broke bread with Lovecraft,
Was lectured by Nietzsche,
Sipped fresh tea across from Austen,
I longed to put my soul to paper,
Their work is a literary blueprint,
One that I follow poorly,
My pen is a crayon in comparison,
Macaroni art to their opuses,
Put on the fridge by an indifferent clientele,
Stood beside those greats,
Those mavens,
I am a wannabe,
Playing at authorship,
Faking it and not making it,
A nobody.

Comments
  1. Nonetheless, every word every line one pens…adds the whole body of literature.😊

  2. Carol anne says:

    truly wonderful! ❤

  3. shauna says:

    No, you are unique in your own right. I realize I haven’t been on here much lately, lots going on and not much down time at work these days. But I do truly appreciate your literary contributions in this chaotic world!

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