I have stood before you countless times, just to spill out the words to sketch the way I feel, when the best of us know that even though it kills us, words aren’t always enough to make the pain subside or go away.
With words you can paint pictures the mind could not possibly conceive, taken in from the mere pupil, but sometimes, such delicately rare times, even spoken words cannot make you feel relieved of your aching, heaving heart.
And then, then is when my world silences itself, and I write.
I write to show you the crystalline and the jasmine sparkling euphoria that compose and intertwine when my heart convinces my brain that there simply must be something magical coursing through my eager fingertips. I am most certain, dear, that it must be magic; what else could fill this withered being with such granted, primary hope?
Surely not the man on the television who is paid to pour out his memories with every drop that pours from the bottle in his shaken hand. I may cause such dismay, but at least my shaken hand comes from pouring my soul into the written word. No worries, though, darling, you won’t remember a single line of this come morning.
I write because it is the one thing I do and that makes me feel like my worth may just be hanging on by a rather concreted thread. I feel my purpose coursing through as medicated hope to my doubtful, weary veins when I sew my words to paper.
I have found my expectation in the layout of beauty.
And Darling, it feels so good to let the words escape, to free them from the chambers of my plagued mind. But what seems to vex me most my Dear, is my fear of not being able to present them in the most admirable, dignified fashion; not dripping in desire or hypnotic elements that lure you in with every intertwined letter leading punctuation.
Mediocre minds call for extravagant presentations, all for the sake of saving conventional sanity.
I write because there is so much that I have to share that sheer verbalized tongue could not dream of expressing in the properly entitled light.
I write because I am purely entranced by the adventure I am engulfed in when I allow myself to be fully devoted to one’s recorded thoughts. Nothing is there so delicate than that of the knowledge of one’s recorded thoughts being made permanent, even when the treasured memory begins to fail you.
I write because my sanity is locked inside a pencil that will never run out. And without it, I would feel an overwhelming cascade of helplessness, taunting my normality, my insignificance, with every falling drop.
I write for multitudes of reasons and desired hopes. Although, believing the most may be;
I write simply because I am blessed with the opportunity of expression through the written word.
Beautifully said.
Lovely.
I love this.
Hmm... just breathtaking.
In this part here:
"Surely not the man on the television who is paid to pour out his memories with every drop that pours from the bottle in his shaken hand. I may cause such dismay, but at least my shaken hand comes from pouring my soul into the written word. No worries, though, darling, you won’t remember a single line of this come morning."
I love how you word your words all threw out but in this part, we may or may not remember your lines but readers (i know i do) may remember you for your beautiful writes, simply that. You have a way of making a impact of beauty with your words that, at least for me, can't seem to escape me to remember this beauty from your writing.
Love how you thought of this:
" I write because my sanity is locked inside a pencil that will never run out. "
I really don't know what else to say, just very wonderful reasons to write. You described the reasons so fantastically in such beauty.
Enjoyed this very much.
You need more reviews on this! Lolz
Your eloquent voice, the one that is magic, seeping from your magic wand, truly transfixes the reader. Every word so beautiful, every idea so poignant, but I really want to know where does it really end? I feel you had so much more to say, so much more to give, and maybe this is just the way you wanted it, the reader perplexed with the ideas eloquently explored within your work, but I am just left void, and I know, just from reading it you just had so much more to tell the reader. . . Beautiful work, beautiful work.
I very much enjoyed thi, I want to thank you for entering in my contest, you are a great writer this really made me question things,
"I write because my sanity is locked inside a pencil that will never run out. "
my favorite line right there, because we all right about the things in our head, writing cant judge us, it doesn't talk back when writing and it will never as you said it will never run out, purely brilliant. thank you for this piece.
Posted 11 Years Ago
11 Years Ago
Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review. I really, really appreciate it and I'm sup.. read moreThank you so much for taking the time to read and review. I really, really appreciate it and I'm super glad you like it. :)
There is no words to better express this, so I'll make one up ^_^ It's absolutely fantasnifacent! If writers were incapable of explaining their own joys of writing, I'm sure they'd use this instead. Great job!
Posted 12 Years Ago
12 Years Ago
Oh geez, thank you so much! That's so nice of you. And I enjoy your new word! Hahah I read it nice a.. read moreOh geez, thank you so much! That's so nice of you. And I enjoy your new word! Hahah I read it nice and slowly. XD
Wow, this is one clever write! I really like the way you compare why you write such as like sketches and paintings, I really like that metphores! It's almost like you want to spill all yuor rage out and just tell the world that "I'm a writer, it's simple as that." Anywho, good job, and thank you for letting me know that this poem exist. Keep it up
This is such a gorgeous piece. You explained the feelings of every writer in existence perfectly, and your last line closed the piece with power. I love it.
Beautifully said.
Lovely.
I love this.
Hmm... just breathtaking.
In this part here:
"Surely not the man on the television who is paid to pour out his memories with every drop that pours from the bottle in his shaken hand. I may cause such dismay, but at least my shaken hand comes from pouring my soul into the written word. No worries, though, darling, you won’t remember a single line of this come morning."
I love how you word your words all threw out but in this part, we may or may not remember your lines but readers (i know i do) may remember you for your beautiful writes, simply that. You have a way of making a impact of beauty with your words that, at least for me, can't seem to escape me to remember this beauty from your writing.
Love how you thought of this:
" I write because my sanity is locked inside a pencil that will never run out. "
I really don't know what else to say, just very wonderful reasons to write. You described the reasons so fantastically in such beauty.
Enjoyed this very much.
You need more reviews on this! Lolz
Hello! My name is Alana, and I'm really glad you're on my profile. I love chatting, so send me a message anytime!
I also love reading new poetry, so feel free to add me and we can share our words.. more..