Sunday, December 10, 2006

Writing about Writing

It was left accidentally
On the desk
In the corner

He read the words

Now the sun
Casts a shadow
On an open life
It holds no secrets
The lock is broken

Reluctantly I put pen to paper
Words of love spilling out
I should not deter
But I hesitate
And whatever that word
The negative of anticipation –
Is what I feel, I dread

Pages upon pages
Have already been filled
With new love and heartache
I want this to not be just another chapter
But my happily ever after

These words
Normal, well used
Are recyclable
Like glass, cardboard, plastic
And the emotions they represent
Nothing special
Webster has nothing on Shakespeare

What word picture you paint
The canvas you choose
The composition, the vision
It’s all how you mix your paint
How you blend your words
For the right mixture
Of fantasy and reality
Of truth and fiction


The words
Left unspoken
for too long
of compliance
of innocence
of apathy.

The words,
Though strong,
Needed to be said
Needed to be heard
Needed to be realize.

The words.


My pen is my pacifier
It calms me in times of stress
When decisions
Need guidance
When outside pressures
Attack my inner barriers
My pen defends me
And magically
Transforms hidden emotions and desires
To reality
Available for evaluation
Observation, dissection
Words often better left unsaid
The pen,, my friend
Will never leave me
Unless like me,
It becomes lost
Or the ink all spent

Words left unsaid
Must be put to bed
Before the sandman can come

If left unexpressed
The words suppressed
Trap reality from escaping dreams
Dormant ideas seethe and bubble
Problems have a tendency to double
So a sharing must occur

Communication is mandatory
For a happily every after story
So the wicked witch can be banned


There’s something missing
In the ideas that form
In the middle of the night
In the darkness of a moonless sky
Under the shadow of a tree
While waiting for inspiration
To guide me to a safe place
Where my ideas are free
To roam and explore
Never heeding the rules
And demands of society
Simply, ever so simply,
Looking for a place to rest

What words will escape
A new pen …
Un harnessed .. .
With boundaries be a problem
Will fear of rejection guard crying words
Will sadness prevail
Will joy be celebrated
Will secrets be revealed or carefully concealed
Will sugar coating ease hardened souls
Will fire burn away shields
This new pen
A virgin to the worry of my woes
Left without a choice
But to perform
When chosen
But the voice it speaks
Is its own
Or is it?


The words I set forth
From my little mitten of the world
across continents
And oceans
To reach you
Down under
Where life moves
At a different pace
Where kangaroos and koalas
Are more popular
Than deer and bears
Where blokes and Sheilas
Have tea for dinner
And pancakes for dessert
A world away
In thought and culture

So I must wonder
As I let loose
My words and thoughts
If when they reach you
The meaning
Has not been lost


A slave to no one
But my heart belongs to my pen


What written words express
Oh what they can express
When the tongue is afraid
And the mind cowers
The mighty pen attempts to conquer
The biggest enemy
The conscious editor of sunlight
And a new day as the clock strikes midnight


And it is about now
When the poetry takes over
And all release
Is in the form of ink
Spread semi illegibly
Sprawled across a trusty legal pad

The contents matter not
But the release of pent up
What emotions, frustration, energy
Is spent
At no cost
And the words ramble on
To no particular audience


The catalyst of inspiration
Comes in so many forms
A muse
A sunset
A photograph
A scent
A song
A memory
Sometimes the most unlikely event

No comments: