Lord, what are the joys of writing?
Expressing thoughts sublime?
Just hoping they seem exciting,
Perchance that they can rhyme?
As if to do some magic trick,
Illusions to perform?
To prove us clever, suave or slick,
Some stranger's heart to warm?
Lord, what are the joys of writing?
A pauper's wage, no more?
Granting wisdom quite enlightening,
While yet remaining poor?
To live apart with lonely heart,
Pen poems on the spot?
Some prophecy meant to impart
Your storyline and plot?
Lord, what are the joys of writing?
An audience to please?
Or life's battles that need fighting
Before Man finds true peace?
If all such things, then guide my hand,
This is my solemn prayer,
That I succeed in all You planned
And placed into my care…
Denis Martindale June 2016.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem