A room full of people, all so unsure.
Apprehension and anxiety, burns right to the core.
Descriptions so perfect, characters surreal,
Stories in stories, some of them real.
A mans life worked with numbers, now he wants words,
Can he dig deep, and describe, the sound of the birds.
The lady who hides, from her closest her talent,
Will the world hear her words, can she be valiant?.
The man who’s seen horror, and all in-between,
Will his words describe anguish, and all that he‘s seen.
The honourable man, that for decades, did his duty,
Can he produce fiction, a thing of beauty?
In a room full of people, all of us unsure.
I hear magical words in at least ten score.
I saw souls come alive, eyes shining bright,
Creative writing is hard, but we’re ready for the fight.
To friends on my course, the people I met,
We have the Red Book, each other,
so lets not fret.
Lets all share our words, our rhymes and our plots,
From each other, we can learn what works.
And what, does not.
Karen Hayward ©2012 Edited 2020