I don't know where I’ll be,
when who ever buys my book to read.
I was just writing the date on my new
notebook, and these thoughts came to my mind.
Sometimes when I'm going over some
writing I see the date on the paper,
and it brings me memories of
how I felt at the time when I
wrote those poems ,
Those notes, they have the flavor
of me. My intimate thoughts my most
saddest and happiest moments of
my existence
My poems my notes my
stories and my hands, they are one.
One memory in all together.
The way my hands clinch my
writing my every move of prose
I don't know who
Will want to read the writing coming
from a stranger a none-known poet.
From lonesome I, no one
knows who she is
I cherish every letter,
word and phrase my hands have writting.
Because all of this has been to me a wonderful
companion of my lonesome life of appetence to feed.
Copyright©ElenaToledo2008
please tell me what you think of this piece
Comments
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Well Expressed Poetess!
You are as a painter of words of hues, and all the ink that fills your pen when life began, now pours into tomorrow with all the happiness as well as sorrow. Thanks for sharing your notebook here my dear friend, love your fan and friend Tim.
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Everyone tells me I should be a writer... Because I write from my heart, I can't go anywhere without my clipboard. I have to have it with me Just in case.
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FANTASTIC!!!!
Yes, we may not be famous but we do share our hearts, out thoughts and dreams. In our poems are those very things, which will mean a lot to some and nothing to others. It is those who share our dreams, our thughts and our feelings who will reach out to us, read and become a part of us in spirit.'s
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