I have a write to right!
Laying on top of the books and stacks of papers upon my bed,
I carefully place my Bible right beneath my head.
After reciting verses of Shakespeare, I finally fall asleep.
Not able to hear the sound of the alarm and awake 'cause books are on it,
Preventing it to beep.
My favorite chair's leg is supported by rejection letters typed with care,
Since recycling stopped paying in the 80's -- might as well keep them there.
It's noon and I have written so much that my hand is beginning to swell.
It's my write to right!
And if you don't think so -- oh well.
Discarding two year old dried ink pens because I have too many to use,
I was reminded of criticism from a former lover about my first love since he
was not amused.
I quickly replied he had to go when he made his startling demand,
"It's me or the books," he replied with a look so I said "see you", walking
out the door with one in hand.
But even now I sit at my table experiencing relief for my soul,
as I try to pen some phrases to explain why writing makes me whole.
You see it just comes so natural. I've done this since I was a child.
You'd rarely find me outside with the kids -- running around, acting wild.
For in my mind I can see a world painted by words so clearly.
And writing simply makes me free to exist in this world -- makes me free to
Forbidding me to write is like making me seethe!
It is a terrible thing to do -- for writing lets me breathe!
I have a divine birthright!
Oh yes, indeed!
A write to right!
Even though I cannot spell.