Lost the plot

Blinda

As a kid I loved to loose myself in make belief stories and poetry but some of sad'st stuff, penned was self-therapy when depressed with home sickness. Finding this site sent me searching out me old jotters (out of curiousity) to find the yellowing pages tell an old fashioned tale of how rhyming used to be. Don't think I could swing it again or master the new way!!!!!!. ( Unseen example)

Exiles comrades, friends afar who fret your life in dreaming
Of our fair land, still as grand as when you took to roaming
Did you think then or do you now, that gold would buy true comfort
And worldly things that money brings, would ease the home-sick hunger.

Far off homeland I'm so lonesome how could we ere desert her
With childish dreams we once believed another grass was greener
There is no colour to compare, this jungles made of concreat
That made the gold to pay the sweat of our true friends and comrades.

We pay a price in exile while we yearn and dream and ponder
On greener grass we left behind and wonder why we wandered
What is this dream, this yearn for home that haunts the heart forever
A vision of a gladness gone a bond that will not sever.

Shad0r

Thats deadly.

I dont believe that the ability to write is something you can loose. Might take a while to get back in the saddle but you still have it in you, and actually I bet it wont even take you that long...

gubby

that is really brilliant!!
I love it