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Neither alone
Nor in a group
The indie stands between
Depending on our own hands
To start the tide
Hoping others arrive
Their whispers
Turning the ripple
Into a wave
Our path is filled
With sneers and suggestions
Advocates of Lucifer
Hocking their wares
At every intersection
Determined
To kick you off the path
Because going alone
Holds too much uncertainty
Yet one must carry on
There is still our story to tell
No other mind
Or set of fingers
Can forge the works we make
So we push forward
Many with only half a clue
As long as we can write
Another day




Enjoyed the poem, Charles. Very truthful for sure.
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Thanks. π
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π
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Oh man, this so is me. I feel like one of those newspaper boys of the 19th century hocking my wares. Great poem and illustrates the frustration of any author. π
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Thanks. Good analogy with the paperboy connection. Definitely feels that way at times.
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Reblogged this on Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog.
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Thanks for the reblog. Have a fun weekend.
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Welcome, Charles – You too ππ
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This is great… really. I feel it totally.
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Thanks. Happy to hear this hit the mark.
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It definitely did. Thanks for sharing it.
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So true! Thanks for sharing it, Charles.
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You’re welcome. π
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Wonderful, Charles! Sharing… π
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Thanks. Glad you liked it. π
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I couldn’t relate to this poem any more if I tried. Great job. Being an indie is difficult
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Thanks. All from the gut. Nice to see so many people relating.
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A page out of the Life of every Writer!
Thank you, Charles
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Nicely says. You’re welcome. π
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