Those Who Write

Those of us who write the words
Expressed in verse and prose
Send them out for other eyes to see
Hoping they will understand
And thus appreciate
The inner thoughts and feelings we set free

It is not for great rewards
That most of us won’t earn
But mainly to fulfill the need to share
All the joy and sadness felt
On any given day
Every thought and dream and need and care

If perhaps you’ve seen our words
If they meet your eyes
Send a line to simply tell us so
If the reader does not choose
To render a reply
How else can the writer ever know?

Make our road a two-way street
Let us know you’re there
Creations in a vacuum do not thrive
It is not so much for praise
As for the need to give
That keeps the writer’s written dreams alive
Not An Island

I wish I were an island
Content to drift alone
Needing no support, but from the sea
Then efforts made by my hand;
All that I have done
Would bring me joy when seen by only me

But I am born of earth-dust
Connected on all sides
Aching to share everything I do
And oft’ I feel it’s unjust
That happiness abides
Only when I’m touching others too

While something makes me certain
That others seem to be
Quite content with their place on this earth
I feel there is this curtain
Between the world and me
When I need others most to feel my worth

With very little feedback
For all the best I give
I start to lose all faith in what is me 
The independence I lack
Makes it hard to live
For I am not an island in the sea
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