The reluctant writer

The art of writing practiced in one’s mind
The flow of a gentle stream
Through the pathways of memory and thoughts
Distant dreamlands and fulfilled lives
Through tragedy and smiles
Imagination’s banks and passion’s falls
Easy its style, strong it’s control
Generations in one line
Epochs reproduced in fine rhyme
Deepest wounds and discriminate views
Empty passageways and open domes
Careless routes and aimless strolls
Captured in the richness of prose
Enriched with a deepness of the sea
Words spoken casually

Paper placed before, pen forced into arms
Defenses raised and shadows fall
Sweat begins to drain out the images
Falling out from the soul’s pores
Words forced, bleed an aching forbearance
No longer the fearless avenger of literature,
The manifestation of all things seen and felt
But prisoner of manuscript
Of structure and external boundaries of reality
Constructions of a society
Of bias and infidelity
Expectations and fear of expression
Of what creatures will say
Stifled in one’s comfort zone
Feeing suddenly naked

Prefer to write on brain cells
Threaded like pearls on a string
Private and precious still
Shy away from paper and pen and
The unknown world of opinion outside
Causing a permanent writer’s block
An excuse not to come out
A fear of the unknown
Parallel lives lead
One of brilliance and content
Another of mediocrity and contempt