Is There A Time To Quit

My words litter pages flapping in the wind
Helplessly tossed to the gods for answers and direction
In the disheartening face of more failure and rejection
Decomposing to the rot of compost for sweet potato shoots
In the muck and souring putrefaction of my thoughts
Creating a schism with the hope and dreams hiding in the corner
How for them to fight and take their rightful stand
When their voices have gone silent in the noise of flagellation
Whipping them from their vague concealed place
Into whisps of smoke and the dying embers of extinction
How to revive the flames of an artist’s soul to a bonfire
When doubt in this purpose drowns all sanguinity
And Pollyanna flails and gasps for her last breaths
As the pens, pencils and dictionaries are packed away

Debbie Gravett © 2021.11.30

FOWC: Schism
RDP: Sweet Potato
Image by Willgard Krause from Pixabay

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