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Sonia E Rodriguez Creative adaptation Sonny’s blues story to poem   Nobody The blues began to play
  Writers suffer from a chronic parasite; it is called writers block. They are discouraged yearly from writing due to the failure of the workshops.  
On this island I am stranded, with nothing but my thoughts Knowing back home, my love misses me a lot So I wait and I wait and I wait some more So I decide to open the book, and then await for help
“Naughty Girl! DO You know? Where the wicked go? After Death?” Asked A Sadist TO A Small Girl   “They GO TO Hell” The Girl replied   “What Must You DO?
One day you are going to wake up and notice that you should've tried. You are worth the fight. Stop the Negative as well as start the positive. Vast things happen when you distance yourself from the negative.
when I am feeling down, but not feeling music I get my radio then I tune it,  I throw my hands in the air and wave like I just dont really care.
I anxiously await the day My novel is confirmed to play To invade your minds With my tantalizing words For my characters to wound To uplift, to hurt. For the hours I've spent In silence to toil
I have a smallish voice. It carries the weight of massive expression, But bears it alone.   My visions detonate in the world around me, They scatter and end up in every corner
Why write when Tim Horton’s has the NEW RED VELVET CUPCAKE? When Zara’s new floral jeans are $49.99? They also sell knitted sweaters, flat rim hats, faux gold necklaces, OPI nail polish, Mavi jeans
Words of the mouth are difficult for me I don't take my time I don't think before I speak But words of the fingertips Those are to keep
I wish I were many things,  but to be many things I would need to be a writer. A writer creates what they want to see and feel.
The sound of the crickets, willow was sure, still couldn’t mask the clanging of her beating heart against her rib cage.
Anger. Love. Strength. Weakness. Hate. Fear. I write for them. They take over. They use my pen to escape. Word By Word. Once they start, they do not stop.
I smile when I read this line of Shakespeare And I nod to myself And think That never have I been so satisfied With a few words typed on paper.
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