writer – The Poetic Life 2.0

Flowing as a leaf does upon a twisting, raging river that’s winding eventually to the sea,
Words finding themselves on paper through whatever method the writer does please,
‘Till eventually they run aground into a bank of extra sticky mud,
Getting out of this messing spot is likely to be a mega mouthful of cud.

Yet on one must continue, despite the challenges this moment has created,
For stopping now amidst defeat ’tis not something one wishes demonstrated,
So on one sludges gradually with a deep breath and cup of hope,
Praying evidently that this patch of muck’s not a steep slope.

Element by element one seems to find momentum in their task,
Unaware if their making progress or getting absolutely nowhere fast,
Thus on they drive themselves, determined to be free of their bind,
Free to flow further along the path they’re upon to see what adventure awaits in kind.

Finally they grasp a momentary splash of perhaps illusionary freedom,
Hoping what they perceive ’tis not also sinking or seldom,
One reaches for another word, another grain of momentum,
Rising above this sludge has been nothing but excruciatingly fun.

Eventually, word by word, grain by grain of super sticky sand,
One assesses their progression to unglue their task at hand,
To discover they’ve crafted themselves into an unknown solution,
And freed themselves once again to flow further towards fruition!

Pen to paper, butt to chair,
 Inspiration can come from anywhere,
Though the messages we usually need to write,
Tend to come the wrong side of midnight,
Or at times we really cannot pick up a pen,
Which in turn creates it’s own degree of frustration.

Though frustrating as it may be,
Writing ’tis something that needs to flow naturally,
For when it’s forced it becomes less enchanting,
Both in content and process - the contrast may be startling,
Yet to only write when words flow can be far from practical,
Thus creating a thought seemingly more theatrical.

For woe be the pen that happens to use an abundance of ink,
Along with the thoughts that fly a writer to tears brink,
Yet they near always occur around the same challenging time,
Damaging our balance, tolerance to which most despair less sublime,
So on one continues; their quest to create something seraphic,
Though the process of said path may turn a tad more dramatic.

Whilst those whom see this wordly warrior use pen for a sword,
~ Whose hope is they’ll merely not despise though dreams they’ll applaud,
Making the perceived moments of torture much less of a fight,
’N’ the visualisation of completion becomes all the more sweeter a devine sight, ~
Look on in confusion as to why they would choose for them this plight,
Unaware ’tis often not a choice for often a writer’s a writer cause they just HAVE to write!

 Yet on they shall sludge - letter vie beautiful letter,
Creating something they hope shall make at least a day better,
For knowledge that they can make a life more inspired with words,
Can drive a writer by force to design them by heards,
Yet all writers know that there are words that fall flat,
And that it may be all, none or most of theirs worthy only the ear of a cat.

But to have that hope of inspiration can spur most to pen or keyboard,
Knowing there’s always a chance it be their next word to have soared,
Away to the multiverse that be coded or traditional print,
Often praying the right person happens to find their way to it with a hint,
Of curiosity enough to read right to the pieces far end,
To find the whole intention of what the creation ’tis supposed to send.

Tag: writer

From Stuck in Mental Mud to Unstoppable: A Writer’s Path to Flow

Woe be the Pen…