The Writer's Song

Poor Artist's Cupboard -Charles Bird King (1785 -1862)

Perseverance, acceptance and belief are what keep us humans going, and these are the words that are running through my head this morning. That twist in my gut becomes tighter as I continue writing, and as I continue trying to find that agent and publisher who sings the same tune as me. Even in my darkest moments, I can not see myself giving up, it’s unfathomable. I can’t do anything else; I was made for nothing else. Writing is all I know. I have chosen “The Writer’s Song” by Patti Smith from her book of poetry Auguries of Innocence a homage to the beautiful William Blake. A man that never gave up.

"The Writer's Song"

Patti Smith (2005)

I did not wish to work

I did not wish to earn

but to curl with my jar

in the sweet sorghum

I laid my mat among the reeds

I could hear the freemen call

oh my life

what does it matter

will the reed cease bending

will the leper turn

I had a horn I did not blow

I had a sake and another

I could hear the freemen

drunk with sky

what mattetr my cry

will the moon swell

will the flame shy

bonsai bonsai

it is better to write

then die

in the blue crater

set with straw

I could hear

the freemen call

the way is hard

the gate is narrow

what matter I say

with the new mown hay

my pillow

I had a sake and another

I did not care to own or rove

I wrote my name upon  the water

nothing but nothing above

bonsai

bonsai

it is better to write

then die

a thousand souvenirs

a thousand prayers

set away in earthenware

we draw the jars

from the shelves

drink our parting

from ourselves

so we be king

or we be bum

the reed still whistles

the heart still hums