The Writer

The Writer

at a white sheet
of paper—
no lines.

And then…
“some-thing” nudges—

one after another
pour from a soul
let loose like a

All at once
the flow~~~calm.
Then they begin
cascading over and over
the once ‘blank’ sheet.

The pen unleashed in
the writer’s hand
now hits the rapids—
the white water.

Words spew in
every direction.
Still, there is a

Whatever exists
beyond the bend
does not matter,
the moment
is exactly this place.

The words go
under water
gasping for breath—
they are held in
what seems an eternity.

Yet, when they
break the surface~~~
feel the rhythm of
the wind~~~
they again trust
the mastery
‘in’ the flow.

The blank page—

The river
never once the same.

This writer
the vessel
which can never
again be tied
to the shore.

4 replies
  1. Suze Baron
    Suze Baron says:

    I like the words and the images: beyond the bend, this moment this place,
    tied to the shore, writer releases, etc….


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