The Author?

Sometimes I just don't know where this stuff comes from!

THE AUTHOR?

 

The talent within my pen

Came from a foreign source,

Somewhere I had not been,

And I had no power against its force;

The pounding of a stranger's heart,

Moisture from tears I did not cry,

And endings to tales I did not start,

Leave me wondering, "Why;"

Words appear before me, on the page,

That are meant for another;

Some from an unfelt rage

And others for an unknown lover;

Who compels me to view his dreams

And awaken to a world of his visions;

My life is caught in someone's schemes

And all of my havens are prisons;

Yet, I continue to record the story,

As it is given to me;

A rambling of unrelated poetry,

With an author that I can not see.

Reviews

[Liza]

this piece captivated me;
led me to believe that each author
is called through a different style
begging for someone's story to be documented
with its inspiration falling on to the talented word master
which will only find rest until the pen hits the paper with its best

[Sarah Amanda Fletterich..]

Very good writing this really moved me.

[Jamie S.]

Perfectly penned! You sound like my kind of people, so nice to meet you :)

[Susie Q]

I like this one a lot. Now that I have written a few lines of my own, although not great, the words just keep coming from our heart and soul
right down to the page. Sometimes our thoughts or another authors words can come into focus to rest in our mind that brings about another story or poem. Good work!

[Ed Hart]

Melville writes in Mardi: "My cheek blanches white while I write; I start at the scratch of my pen; my own mad brood of eagles devours me; fain would I unsay this audacity; but an iron-mailed hand clenches mine in a vice, and prints down every letter in my spite. Fain would I hurl off this Dionysius that rides me; my thoughts crush me down till I groan; in far fields I hear the song of the reaper, while I slave and faint in this cell. The fever runs through me like lava; my hot brain burns like a coal; and like many a monarch, I am less to be envied, than the veriest hind in the land."

[Crowley]

Its is strange how we all feel like individuals, but when it comes down to it, my pain, is your pain, is their pain. Nice point made in this one, solid writing and engaging subject matter for sure. I like.

[Charles]

A true tale of poetry. The rhyming pattern here is subtle - maybe the lack of stanza breaks is responsible, but more likely it is the smooth transition from line to line that makes it so. Good work.