Post by Brian on Jul 6, 2018 12:57:42 GMT -6
Delicately do I dip the quill into the inkwell,
Carefully do I chose my words to fill a page,
Great consideration given to each stroke,
Surely I haven't done this all once before?
With a sigh I crumpled up the paper and tossed it across the room. It missed the basket as had the previous 36 I'd tossed that way. Trying to relieve the frustration I got up and paced about the room. Broom closet might be a better description, but then I'd be confessing to bad aim with the crumpled papers wouldn't I?
The small desk is a bit to small for my somewhat large frame, all 300 lbs of it. The light in here is somewhat dim, barely brighter fifteen hand held lighters. At least while the sun is out some light comes in through the unshaded window. It won't open though. Good thing I don't smoke, I'd choke myself in here. Then again, I'm just about to do it anyway.
It's not easy when you're starting out in the writing field. Worse when you're a total unknown. No one has to respect you. In fact you might be mistaken for the janitor if you're not careful. I am sure after six hours in here I look the janitor. Ok, ok, that's unfair, I don't even know what the janitor looks like. It must be my frustration getting through.
The publisher read something I had written a few years back. It caught his attention, he signed me to a contract to write one poem. A love poem, one that could be used to propose marriage. I had written mine during the peak of a relationship. A peak that crashed when she read it and turned me down flat with no explanation, just up and walked out the door.
I got over it, eventually. My new love I've been more careful around. I sure do not want to scare her off. She's a real treasure. I have a date with her tonight. A date I do NOT want to break, but today is also the deadline for my submission. Why, why, WHY did I sign that contract for this one time write? What was I thinking. I cannot write under pressure. I thought I could, now is really a lousy time to find out I can't.
Here's an idea. I'll write it as though I were gonna ask my girl to marry me, tonight. That should spark just the right feeling. I sure hope this works. It won't do for her to ever find out I am doing this though. I am not sure she would understand.
Ok, here it goes!
Upon the wings of love we fly when we are hand in hand,
My heart cries for you every night we are apart,
It sings the pure notes of never ending love for you,
Becoming a full symphony when your eyes meet mine,
Through waters uncharted we would unfurl our sails,
Fearing nothing brought by the rushing oncoming waves,
As one we can survive any storm by making our own port,
If only you would accept this offer that comes from my heart,
We shall climb the higher than the highest mountains,
The stars shall shine more brightly than ever before,
Please consent to stand with me for you have my heart,
Cleave to me my darling in joining us together as one.
Well not really that good but not really that bad. I guess I'll see what the boss has to say. Give him call and see if he likes it. I sure hope he does, but if he doesn't, well if he doesn't, looks like I'll be breaking my date. You all go get a coffee while I make this call. It won't take long.
Well you're back I see. Guess what? He loved it. Said he was gonna use it tonight. I should've known. Good thing I only agreed to this one. He could've asked for more, valentines, anniversaries, I guess I got off easy. You won't believe this either. He left the money for me right here in this desk. I can't wait to see my girl tonight, we're going to have a great time!
Well I'm late anyway, had to go home and change and wouldn't you know it, there's a message on the answering machine. It's from Linda, my one and only love. Seems Mr Freedman read her a love poem, asking him to marry her. Yeah, you know Mr Freedman, he's the guy that paid me to write it all out for him. Don't I feel like six kinds of fool now.
Most guys right now would go out and get themselves wasted. I'm not gonna do that. I have me an idea. I'm gonna call those greeting card people and see if they have an opening. Send 'em a little of my stuff, for sample. I can use Linda and Freedman as references. I'm sure Freedman can fix me up. He doesn't want me telling Linda where that little proposal came from. Yeah, Freedman will help me a lot now.
Brian Paul Sullivan © 2007
Carefully do I chose my words to fill a page,
Great consideration given to each stroke,
Surely I haven't done this all once before?
With a sigh I crumpled up the paper and tossed it across the room. It missed the basket as had the previous 36 I'd tossed that way. Trying to relieve the frustration I got up and paced about the room. Broom closet might be a better description, but then I'd be confessing to bad aim with the crumpled papers wouldn't I?
The small desk is a bit to small for my somewhat large frame, all 300 lbs of it. The light in here is somewhat dim, barely brighter fifteen hand held lighters. At least while the sun is out some light comes in through the unshaded window. It won't open though. Good thing I don't smoke, I'd choke myself in here. Then again, I'm just about to do it anyway.
It's not easy when you're starting out in the writing field. Worse when you're a total unknown. No one has to respect you. In fact you might be mistaken for the janitor if you're not careful. I am sure after six hours in here I look the janitor. Ok, ok, that's unfair, I don't even know what the janitor looks like. It must be my frustration getting through.
The publisher read something I had written a few years back. It caught his attention, he signed me to a contract to write one poem. A love poem, one that could be used to propose marriage. I had written mine during the peak of a relationship. A peak that crashed when she read it and turned me down flat with no explanation, just up and walked out the door.
I got over it, eventually. My new love I've been more careful around. I sure do not want to scare her off. She's a real treasure. I have a date with her tonight. A date I do NOT want to break, but today is also the deadline for my submission. Why, why, WHY did I sign that contract for this one time write? What was I thinking. I cannot write under pressure. I thought I could, now is really a lousy time to find out I can't.
Here's an idea. I'll write it as though I were gonna ask my girl to marry me, tonight. That should spark just the right feeling. I sure hope this works. It won't do for her to ever find out I am doing this though. I am not sure she would understand.
Ok, here it goes!
Upon the wings of love we fly when we are hand in hand,
My heart cries for you every night we are apart,
It sings the pure notes of never ending love for you,
Becoming a full symphony when your eyes meet mine,
Through waters uncharted we would unfurl our sails,
Fearing nothing brought by the rushing oncoming waves,
As one we can survive any storm by making our own port,
If only you would accept this offer that comes from my heart,
We shall climb the higher than the highest mountains,
The stars shall shine more brightly than ever before,
Please consent to stand with me for you have my heart,
Cleave to me my darling in joining us together as one.
Well not really that good but not really that bad. I guess I'll see what the boss has to say. Give him call and see if he likes it. I sure hope he does, but if he doesn't, well if he doesn't, looks like I'll be breaking my date. You all go get a coffee while I make this call. It won't take long.
Well you're back I see. Guess what? He loved it. Said he was gonna use it tonight. I should've known. Good thing I only agreed to this one. He could've asked for more, valentines, anniversaries, I guess I got off easy. You won't believe this either. He left the money for me right here in this desk. I can't wait to see my girl tonight, we're going to have a great time!
Well I'm late anyway, had to go home and change and wouldn't you know it, there's a message on the answering machine. It's from Linda, my one and only love. Seems Mr Freedman read her a love poem, asking him to marry her. Yeah, you know Mr Freedman, he's the guy that paid me to write it all out for him. Don't I feel like six kinds of fool now.
Most guys right now would go out and get themselves wasted. I'm not gonna do that. I have me an idea. I'm gonna call those greeting card people and see if they have an opening. Send 'em a little of my stuff, for sample. I can use Linda and Freedman as references. I'm sure Freedman can fix me up. He doesn't want me telling Linda where that little proposal came from. Yeah, Freedman will help me a lot now.
Brian Paul Sullivan © 2007
