Being a Writer
I stare at the computer screen,
Fingers twitching over keys,
Thoughts flying as I consider what to do.
Within my mind, shadows converse,
Speaking of things long gone for them,
Events that I have yet to discover.
But, I am more than aware of them
Because of these flitting shadows.
I am not crazy, despite what others may think
When they see me staring at a wall,
Or a person,
Or an object.
I am looking at nothing they can see.
I see the shadows acting out events,
Acting out what they had done,
So that I may write of them more easily.
That is what a writer does, no?
Figures come in and out of my vision,
Asking for attention,
Begging that their story is written next.
I do what I can, but fingers
Are not as fast as tongues,
Going at the speed of sound,
Faster than I could ever move.
It is something I will have to get used to.
Characters crowd around me now as
I work, as I record their words and their
Stories. Visions dance in my head along
With their words, and I find myself wishing
That I could draw as well as some to pause
The scenes, to capture the words without
Jumping ahead of myself.
I sometimes wonder if being a writer
Also means that you are insane.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.