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Eddie Thompson

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Member Since: Oct, 2003

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Tin Man
by Eddie Thompson

Friday, December 05, 2003

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           >> View all 62

(A frustrated poet struggles to regain his muse as he feels his passion slipping away.)


i sit here in my orchard, rusted...frozen in time
unable to stretch my arms of love
to reach deeper still into the heart of creative passion
my legs no longer bend the knee to muses tried and true
they are dried up...mere memories of dreams hatched in fantasies long ago
apples fall around me
ever so often, one hits me, and i try to use its momentum to extend the flow
but you are gone...the rust has ground it all to a halt
you are gone...gone...gone...never to return
another tear escapes but all it does is seep along my jawline
and deepen the rust there
keeping me from even calling out your name
or hearing your voice that my lonely ears have longed to hear for so long now
i have a heart no longer...i am a tin man
not even able to creak out a moment of flow
a time of loving passion...no heart for creative thought
i need a little girl, her dog, and a scarecrow to come my way

Alabaster Publishing Company

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Reviewed by J'nia Fowler 3/21/2009
For inspiration, I sometimes lie on the ground, stare at the clouds and talk silently with the Lord. He never fails. Blessings, J'nia
Reviewed by Mary Coe 12/1/2007
Enjoyed very much. A lovely poem.
Reviewed by Cynth'ya cynthyaspeaks@gmail.com 12/9/2004
This is really good Bro. Eddie! I think that while the tin man was rusting, the lion was asleep in the den, the scarecrow was picking corn; the little girl was shopping at the Emerald City Dollar Store, and the dog was getting flea dipped.

But alas, the morning comes, beaming eastern sunrays of fresh inspiration.

blessin's, this was a neat read!
cynth'ya
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader) 9/16/2004
Take a vacation to the Emerald city..
Reviewed by William Rowan 3/6/2004
Really interesting. Well done!
Reviewed by ya mama (Reader) 12/5/2003
wow!!!! this is awesome. love the last line.
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 12/5/2003
(((o, eddie)))

wonderful, creative write--i've felt like that at times

"help meeeeeeeeeeeeee" LOL need the oil of muse to loosen my brain (it's rusted)

(((HUGS))) and love,

karla.

follow the yellow brick road, and find that wizard! :)
Reviewed by Tami Ryan 12/5/2003
Ah, there's "No Place Like Home" in the heart of a poet... at least when the muse is talking to you. (lol) Wonderful write!

Tami
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 12/5/2003
as a fan of "the wizard of OZ", i really liked this poem! thanks for sharing, eddie; enjoyed~ (((HUGS))) and love, your tx. friend, karen lynn. :D
Reviewed by Larry Rochelle 12/5/2003
As a guy who lives in Kansas, I can offer you some help. Think, "Oil can." Feel those poetic muscles flexing? No? Then think. "A beer would be real good right now." Never fails! Thanks, Eddie!
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