Play it Again


door_to_nowhere_by_grdcityboy

**I came across this in my archives from 2014 while I was digging around for something and thought, “Damn! I LIKE that!”  🙂 I thought you might like to have a look at it today, just in case you missed it way back then.  I hope you enjoy this piece.  

Look at you, sitting there.  Blinking.  You’re daring me to defile your crisp, white page, aren’t you?

Look at your one straight line, mocking me.  You look back at me in defiance.  I hear you!  Your taunts.

Continue reading “Play it Again”

Writing about Writing


I find that my time here on WordPress has become therapeutic.  Those of us that write have this inner voice that pushes us to the keyboard.  I do.  For me it’s a need, an itch I must scratch.

What I write here doesn’t amount to a hill of beans and there are times that I am surprised by the people that still follow me.  (kind souls)

What I write here is an extension of me.  It’s a way to express myself and to tell my story.  MY story.

Writing affords me the freedom we mortals do not normally get in the real world.  In my writing world, I have the power to do anything I wish.   I can fly, sing, die and rise again.  People are created, perish and do as I please them to do.

As a child I devoured books.  I always had my nose in a book.  It was my entertainment.  It was my way to travel and experience the things I knew would never really happen to me in the real world.

I think this love of reading and love of books (thank you Mom), is why Writing is so important to me.  I am now the one on the other side of that book cover, providing the escape, the entertainment and the fantasy to any who care to look.

Those of you close to me, I do want to caution you.  What you see here is written For Me.  If you don’t like it, fine.  I didn’t write it for you.  🙂

This post has taken shape in a way that I did not expect.  It always surprises me at what actually ends up on the page.  I started out thinking about going down a very different path.  But that’s alright.  That “different path” can be another post at another time!

 

Gently


sad

I’m here, right here.  Don’t you see?

If I reach out, I’m too clingy.

To dare say “I need”; too easy.

Your eyes, your touch, tell me yes.

Why can’t you speak?

That fragility is in all of us.

I want to be safe too.

Reach out your hand.

Ever so gently, I’ll hold it close.

 

The Thirst


         

I’m the junkie, twitching for his next fix.  I’m the drunkard, looking for his next drink.  I’m the infant, crying for his mother’s breast.

I’m the lover, yearning for the touch of your skin.

The need in me to spew forth my thoughts is undeniable.  My fingers are drawn to the keyboard, searching for that release.

I long to watch the letters flow across the screen as I chase the cursor.

The cursor is mocking me today.

My thoughts will not emerge upon the page.

Today the thirst will remain.

The Thirst


Journal

I’m the junkie, twitching for his next fix.  I’m the drunkard, looking for his next drink.  I’m the infant, crying for his mother’s breast.

I’m the lover, yearning for the touch of your skin.

The need in me to spew forth my thoughts is undeniable.  My fingers are drawn to the keyboard, searching for that release.

I long to watch the letters flow across the screen as I chase the cursor.

The cursor is mocking me today.

My thoughts will not emerge upon the page.

Today the thirst will remain.

The Cursor


door_to_nowhere_by_grdcityboy

Look at you, sitting there.  Blinking.  You’re daring me to defile your crisp, white page, aren’t you?

Look at your one straight line, mocking me.  You look back at me in defiance.  I hear you!  Your taunts.

You don’t think I’ve got it in me, do you?

Some days, your constant, unwavering blinking is enough to drive me mad.

On these days, you bar the door, unyielding, to the bliss that waits for me beyond.

Then there are those enchanted days that I fall, head first, right past you.  I enter through the door that you hold the key to so tightly.  I pass the blinding white of your page, where the release of the written word is all…

Time stands still for me in these moments.  I am transported to the corners of my imagination.  Or I wander through the fields of my past; where nothing and no one exists unless I want them to.

This power is what I thirst for, beg for, need.

You bar my way.