Lit.Org - a community for readers and writers Advanced Search

Average Rating

(0 votes)

You must login to vote

My baby girl found the easy end's edge,
Sat on the ledge beside a sunflower patch,
Gathering gold under sunshine's fetch.
Her fountain ink found a finishing act,
Of tragic misery in every beginning's beg,
Weaving a stream of ample lack.
It delivered the theater a whimpering pack,
Of confusion hung on a rusty steel rack,
And solidified pain stake for her gag.
Such was her first playwright contract.

Related Items


The following comments are for "Scriptwriter’s Picnic."
by ^white

You have to read the SMALL PRINT well in those chains

( Posted by: poewhit [Member] On: May 29, 2008 )

Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Commenting Guidelines:
  • All comments must be about the writing. Non-related comments will be deleted.
  • Flaming, derogatory or messages attacking other members well be deleted.
  • Adult/Sexual comments or messages will be deleted.
  • All subjects MUST be PG. No cursing in subjects.
  • All comments must follow the sites posting guidelines.
The purpose of commenting on Lit.Org is to help writers improve their writing. Please post constructive feedback to help the author improve their work.