On Writing My First Novel

[Verse 1]
Serious writing projects completed,
A dozen plus books published,
Others yet to come, new lectures to plan,
New courses to develop and teach.

[Verse 2]
My story untold, lessons learned unfurled,
But not written down to pass down my truth,
About things I know much more than I should,
That others should learn, in old age and youth.

[Verse 3]
Place bound during Covid’s lockdown,
Chained to my desk like galley slaves to oars,
Taping lectures, attending Zoom meetings,
Depression abounds, if not sleep or joy.

[Verse 4]
And so, I went back to relive the past,
In memory still green, though browning in parts,
Taking poetic license where it needs,
But gently as a child's butterfly kiss.

[Verse 5]
Nearly nine thousand words today for just,
One day's events that sowed a thousand seeds,
That sprouted, flourished and died or were pecked,
By hungry vultures out of existence.

[Verse 6]
Remembering a day in my career,
When I still viewed the world with bright, clear eyes,
And had not opened doors I could not close,
Or walked by doors I should have opened wide.

[Bridge]

[Verse 7]
My world and heart were then innocent, pure,
Full of good intentions waiting to burst out,
From a chest that could hardly hold them back,
Foolishly thinking I could change the world.

[Verse 8]
The painful memories in which I now drown,
I’ll barely touch on. 
The pain I've given, the pain I've received,
 I'll whitewash away,
To protect myself and those that I loved.

[Verse 9]
I'll focus my journey to work alone,
Describe what I've learned 
That others should know,
Weave the personal with transparent thread,
The professional with thickest red yarn.

[Verse 10]
My novel will teach more 
That all need to know,
Than all my life's work. 
Hope I can write it 
While I have the time.

[outro – close-mic, intimate]
My sand's running out, tick tock cries the clock,
Hope lockdown provides, end to writer's block.

2137/7500

[Intro] started writing my novel, Two decades ago, Life got in the way, so I let it go, Work, wife, parents with health issues, now gone, Back burners full of overflowing pots, Sands of time remind me its time to move on. [Verse 1] Serious writing projects completed, A dozen plus books published, Others yet to come, new lectures to plan, New courses to develop and teach. [Verse 2] My story untold, lessons learned unfurled, But not written down to pass down my truth, About things I know much more than I should, That others should learn, in old age and youth. [Verse 3] Place bound during Covid’s lockdown, Chained to my desk like galley slaves to oars, Taping lectures, attending Zoom meetings, Depression abounds, if not sleep or joy. [Verse 4] And so, I went back to relive the past, In memory still green, though browning in parts, Taking poetic license where it needs, But gently as a child's butterfly kiss. [Verse 5] Nearly nine thousand words today for just, One day's events that sowed a thousand seeds, That sprouted, flourished and died or were pecked, By hungry vultures out of existence. [Verse 6] Remembering a day in my career, When I still viewed the world with bright, clear eyes, And had not opened doors I could not close, Or walked by doors I should have opened wide. [Bridge] [Verse 7] My world and heart were then innocent, pure, Full of good intentions waiting to burst out, From a chest that could hardly hold them back, Foolishly thinking I could change the world. [Verse 8] The painful memories in which I now drown, I’ll barely touch on. The pain I've given, the pain I've received, I'll whitewash away, To protect myself and those that I loved. [Verse 9] I'll focus my journey to work alone, Describe what I've learned That others should know, Weave the personal with transparent thread, The professional with thickest red yarn. [Verse 10] My novel will teach more That all need to know, Than all my life's work. Hope I can write it While I have the time. [outro – close-mic, intimate] My sand's running out, tick tock cries the clock, Hope lockdown provides, end to writer's block.

0/500