Why DO I Write? (Impromptu Response to AK's Tell Me Why You Write?)

My friend AK wrote a fabulous poem titled "Tell Me Why You Write?" It evoked this impromptu response, which I've now edited a little.

Verse is the flashlight I take with me
Into the inner caverns of my mind
To deep dark where true feelings hide
Since my inner eyes feel deathly blind

I wrote before I used this voice
With which I speak aloud
I kept it all locked in my brain
So's not to stick out in the crowd

I feared what I thought and what
The other guy may really think
So I built a wall of words within
Locked the gate, and didn't blink...

One day it all came pouring forth
A stream and then a flood
I covered many a page with ink-
Suddenly sacred as holy blood

I was the girl who sat in the back
With the notebook and the pen
In class I never had to listen
As I'd "read it all" by then

I was the girl whose cat was all
She had in the way of friends
That and the voice inside her
Who had lessons she would lend

I became the woman who suffered
Who "lived" in places with no locks
Truly living in that inner world-
Words in a pad, an unbreakable box

I watched the angry world float by
As though it were on a screen
I watched and sat there, helpless
To change the colors of the scene

I lived past it all, and kept my mind
Using only paper and cheap pen
I passed on through to normal-
Yet passions I find, never end

 

Now I write to tell the tales

Of how I suffered but survive

And give hope to the masses

And give thanks I am alive

 

I want to be the voice now

For the voiceless all around

The homeless and abused

The hopeless and unfound

With words I come to know myself
And that is really why I write
Though now I speak aloud as well,
My pen, she holds my might. 

Author's Note

I wonder how many here will think, "this is my story, too?" Several, I'm certain.

Reviews

[LSS]

"Verse is the flashlight I take with me
Into the inner caverns of my mind"
I can tell you how exactly how I got started writing, It was from the magic moments under the blankets late at night reading a favorite story by flashlight. Thank you for the reminder of those moments, and the wonderful impressions you have brought back by your wonderful expressions and capture of words.
"I was the girl who sat in the back
With the notebook and the pen"
There were guys in the back of the class too for the same hidden reasons. We weren't there because we were the ones who wanted to cut-up and get away with murder, true they were there too, but we where the shy, unassuming ones who didn't want to get called upon or be seen, the ones who never seemed to get the answers right and would prefer never to be called upon. I love your perception, you've hit home again.
"I was the girl whose cat was all
She had in the way of friends"
I was the boy who didn't even have animals, I just preferred to be alone with my thoughts. But looking back I would never have wanted it any other way, seeing the way I turned out. Of course, at the time I was jealous of the popularity of others. Yet your diversion from my experiences is more than the sexes. Your world carried you places I've never gone, and possibly never would want to. It is in your ability to express yourself, to rise above your experiences and show your character that is your true strength. I am thankful for your expressions here that have especially allowed me to somewhat empathize with you.
Lar

[Alexis Macchiaroli]

wow "verse is the flashlight i take with me into the inner caverns of my mind" could not have said it better

[Solst Rapture]

Constance, I'd like to read more from you and write to you again. I seldom write to anyone now. I don't know when you wrote this but it is different from what I remember, perhaps more accomplished? I don't know.

Verse is the flashlight I take with me
Into the inner caverns of my mind
To deep dark where true feelings hide
Since my inner eyes feel deathly blind

This first verse is superior. It is always difficult to follow on from such inspired words. The assonance and alliteration give it that extra little quality and the imagery is wonderful. I image slowly venturing through cavernous corridors with my flash light, reading inscriptions on the walls. Very nice imagery. The only bit I stumbled on was, '...deep dark...' I wondered if 'rooms' or perhaps 'coves' or 'caves' would be more fitting, something more concrete...but I really do love the stanza.

I wrote before I used this voice
With which I speak aloud
I kept it all locked in my brain
So's not to stick out in the crowd

Second line: I have trouble with it; it just feels as if you have slung it in there. I know what you're saying and the first lines does it well - perhaps swap 'this' with 'my'? Does the second line justify itself. I don't think it does. Perhaps something like, 'as little as it sounds.' This still conforms to the rhyme scheme your using.

Third line; 'I kept it all locked inside?' Though that doesn't rhyme. Perhaps, 'locked in place?' I know you're talking about the mind so I'm much more taken by strengthening the earlier imagery you have penned. This conjures up so much in me, like being imprisoned, physically...let me know what you think.

I feared what I thought and what
The other guy may really think
So I built a wall of words within
Locked the gate, and didn't blink...

First line: the line break of, '...and what...' is a little weak. 'I feared what others thought,/and what I couldn't think,/so I built walls of words within,/locked the gate, and didn't blink...

I think the stanza is wonderful, I really do, I'm just trying squeeze all I can out of it; I respect you as an artists which is why I'm being so honest.

One day it all came pouring forth
A stream and then a flood
I covered many a page with ink-
Suddenly sacred as holy blood

Last line; something not right there. The idea is great but it's not right. Perhaps, '...with ink -/ as if it were a sacred blood.'

I was the girl who sat in the back
With the notebook and the pen
In class I never had to listen
As I'd "read it all" by then

Love this one, no recommendations.

I was the girl whose cat was all
She had in the way of friends
That and the voice inside her
Who had lessons she would lend

I want to read 'head' here for some reason, though I wont press that point. Something like, '...inside her/head, who's lessons she would lend.' It is sometimes a great device to have a comma in the line...or a full stop.

I became the woman who suffered
Who "lived" in places with no locks
Truly living in that inner world-
Words in a pad, an unbreakable box

Second line: 'Without locks?'
Third line: 'Truly living in an inner world?'
Last line: 'Words on the walls of my unbreakable box?'

I watched the angry world float by
As though it were on a screen
I watched and sat there, helpless
To change the colors of the scene

Third line: repetition of 'I watched' irritates me. Perhaps, 'on a screen/and screamed for all I tried/to change the colours of the scene.'

I lived past it all, and kept my mind
Using only paper and cheap pen
I passed on through to normal-
Yet passions I find, never end

I really don't like this stanza. I just think it needs more work. I want to see what you're saying. I know what you're saying but it doesn't shine here. I'll try something for you, 'I lived with it and kept my words alive,/using cheap paper and a pen/ to pass the common exam/ yet my passions never end.' It isn't right, but I wanted to offer something, to put my money where my mouth is, as they say.

Now I write to tell the tales
Of how I suffered but survive
And give hope to the masses
And give thanks I am alive

Second line: '...suffered to survive...'
Last line: 'and give thanks for being alive.'

I want to be the voice now
For the voiceless all around
The homeless and abused
The hopeless and unfound

This stanza is fine as it is, though I do miss the imagery.

With words I come to know myself
And that is really why I write
Though now I speak aloud as well,
My pen, she holds my might.

First line: 'With words I come to myself.' That is enough, it makes sense.
Second line: 'And that is why I write.'
Third line: 'But now I speak aloud in strength;/ my pen, you see, holds my might.'

Not sure if referring to the pen as a she is necessary but it could be. I have been really quick with this but just said it how I saw it.

Miss you and take care. I enjoyed this immensely.

[Belator Books]

The invocation of thought and tears, a writers food, Well done; though it rhymed, you pulled it off and flooded us with a muse's rain.

[L.G. Knight]

AWESOME! This is, I think, the most of me that I have read in someone elses work EVER. I thouroughly enjoyed it and am so glad you asked me to read it!

Amazing Job!

~Frances~

[AK]

This is exactly the type of response I was hoping for when I wrote my little piece. I can only hope others will accept the challenge and use their gift to help us all better understand this compulsion that drives us.
The most incredible things I've read are those that were written between sobs and shivers on keyboards glistening with tears. It is the writers who touch the souls of others. We owe it to the world to use this great and precious gift! It's not an accident that those who write often see and feel and perceive and hear things differently.
Thank you Constance for stepping out, truly!
Any one else?

[Samuel Dickens]

This does sound like someone I know. We're all very fortunate that you write, Constance.

[Michael]

It is a beautiful tell in of what makes a poet(writer). Even with the few light line rhymes it works extremely well and needs no tuning. I love the last line, it really tells the tale.

Great job.