A Poet's Clippets ~

Dashing between a melee of different work dynamics. I've learned to take my lessons in stride at this moment; I know now 'application,' is worth its weight in gold, and I know- quite literally, lessons are not just the scholar's choice pick. It seems that my class lessons have become tangible things- my writer's life is a spectrum of different characters, styles, and personalities. Eight hours of technical, five hours creative, and then some things that cannot be categorized . . . O, but poetry, where art thou! How I miss your touches, your brightness- can you not light my path again this night!