I Like to Write

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I Like to Write


	We believe the reader should choose who they read, not the publisher


	I Like to Write


	I brought my poems to an English professor while attending college. I was 28 years old then. He told me I should go forward, that I should not hide my feelings. My work was good, good enough to share with the world, but yet I hesitated. A few friends also encouraged me and my thinking began to change. Here are two poems I want to share, to encourage you to bring your thoughts forward. At the very least you can have your works looking professional on your shelf or coffee table; and share them with those you choose to share them with. If you choose, we will act as your agent and introduce your work to the literary world. Or you can present your professional looking work yourself.


	The Tumbleweed goes where the wind directs it. You are the wind that directs us.


	I lie awake late at night thoughts are running through my mind These words I think I'd like to keep hopes and wants that you can see-- I like to write So many nights I lie awake thinking to myself ideas running rampant They must be said a record kept I should write them down for tomorrow when I wake they'll be gone Lost forever into darkness I know I'll never remember too though--they're locked inside I know that I have said them Those idea's thoughts and words that went rambling through my head were mine you know all mine I say I only wish-- they would have been saved. © Robert J. Laszczak


	You know if you have read before the writing of this pen I have laid awake at night dreaming of what could be said You also know it my fondest wish that it all could be read By you--by everyone A tablet and a pen have been placed next to bed So on this dark early morn when I awoke again With words and dreams floating through my head So here we go my friends To keep a promise once said. © Robert J. Laszczak


	Now you can have "the magic that flies from your fingertips" put into a book to share with others.

Turtles have their ways too

Eyes so steel blue
searching the ground

A little mouth
poised in pout

A tiny finger
tracing golden locks

And one foot
that sits not still

An d turtles
have their ways too.

© Robert J. Laszczak


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