~A WRITER'S DILEMMA
I lay me down and long to sleep,
Then words come tumbling instead of sheep.
Elusive words, that in the day
Lay dormant, now come out to play.
If you would keep until the morn,
And yet I’ll wake to find you gone.
Or, when my hands are sore intent
On daily chores and duty bent,
You words come marching by in rhyme
Through the hallways of my mind.
This task cannot be done in haste,
O foolish pen, it is a waste
For you to idly slumbering lie
And let those precious lines go by.
Adeline Foster's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (~A WRITER'S DILEMMA by Adeline Foster )
Poem of the Day
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- If, Rudyard Kipling
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Heather Burns
(c. 600 BCE)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Udiah (witness to Yah)