Crumpled pages
scattered at my feet
Sonnets of scribbles,
of lines incomplete
So many words
with so much to say,
wrenched out and written
and then thrown away
Tossed to the wayside
by no fault of their own
they were my words,
they were seeds I had sown
Like I was some God
giving life to the page,
like I was some monster
they fell to my rage
Mourning, I gathered them
each creased and crinkled one,
desperate to undo
the damage I had done
To make amends I saved them
to one day use again,
and sat back down to seek
forgiveness with my pen
Crystal R. Cook
The Qwiet Muse 
Ah the war with the words. I’m so familiar with it. Lovely.
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It’s a beautiful battle . . .
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very cool poem. May I use lines of this as titles for a new piano cd and if so, how shall I credit you on the album release?
Thank you for considering the request.
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You may use lines as titles, just be certain to include my name, Crystal R. Cook 🙂
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ohhh VERY cool! I like this 😀
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