Who is a Writer?

How do sparks light, there between Ivory ages,

Beneath the sweating palms, of the descendant of ages,

Or between chilled typewriter plates,

Each written word, intertwining fates

Are some born creators? More importantly, can you be born to create?

Can selective few speak in rhyme and riddle, of both love and hate?

Those who are aware, of the other worlds hidden,

Between clean printed lines,

Those who can embody emotion, even without need of rhymes.

Who rely on description.

Of the Scarlett vixen,

the harlot,

the trickster,

the minimal scene, that gives them each a home.

The medium between worlds, who paints a masterpiece with word.

Describing the unknown,

the unseen,

the unheard.

The wondrous dimensions, that only they can perceive.

What powers lie behind, the inspiration that peeks fleetingly at us from the sheltered nooks and overlooked corners, all forgotten and brushed away as childhood fancy.

Then the writer is he, who has remained inside, a child.

Who with the quietest words, creates beasts large and wild,

And with powerful phrase, They heal those who are blind

to the wondrous adventures, walled off from their mind

These glorious lunatics, who listen to the nothing of sound,

where the histories and mysteries are whispered, from galaxies far around

Carried in, on otherworldly breeze

tempting us with the fine artists tease

Come to me writer,

oh seeker of tales

And find me the story,

Of the dwindling trails,

For I've heard they lead somewhere,

And I've heard they end not,

But I know another world is there

So walk it for me, and think without thought...

Reviews

[Undeniable Truth]

I vastly enjoyed how you created this tale,
it provoked my mind to be used to my avail.
now i think not of what a writer writes,
but what they hide between the lines to inspire and incite.

it sounded like a lullaby for adults to enjoy,
not because of the theme, but the complexity you employ
to search into a writer is a journey indeed
you exposed some muses, some ruses we need

but the answer to your question, is quite simple at best.
any one who attempts to answer can fill in the rest.
I enjoyed how your piece, my cognition has risen
"who is a writer?" my answer: who isnt?

[Shep]

This clearly states what a writer does as we take that sacred road he or she has pointed us to. We are the reader to purchuse a ticket or set our feet upon the path. Very well writen.

[Andrew Wright]

Wow... I've kind of lost my muse lately, and this is a kick in the pants. This is a tale of a writer, and everything that one embodies, and the fact that you even went so far as to speak of the writer's inner child shows how much you can pull from that well (hmm, I wonder why?). Honestly, I found the last line to trip up the flow just a smidge, but the overall tale is not lacking in the slightest. This was wonderful. Thank you.

Awe inspiring. You do have a gift, don't waste it. I would try to give a poetic response but anything I write is just too insignificant compared to this. Simply beautiful. :,)

[Shy Girl]

It definately has my brain wandering
as you wove your tale with rhyme
How do we begin discribing
that which resides inside our mind

As puzzling as your question is
and not knowing which to be
By creating my works of art
I reflect what's hidden inside me

I adore your poem you made. It captures an art that is very hard to describe unless you understand the basics. The ride to get there is rough, but very rewarding in it's many sharp turns. Brilliant piece :)

[EMF]

I never know why people ask these questions, but sometimes, just occassionally it produces an exceptional write. As it has here. A sensible, but poetical analysis and alive write that is a joy to read, and to ponder over.