i find myself amused
(and somewhat embarrassed)
when others think my writing
amazing or profound or great
or any other laudatory adjective
honestly i don’t understand
because to me it’s just writing
it’s like breathing
agonizingly setting my heart
down on paper
everyone was created with a heart
everyone is a soul
in possession of a body
so everyone has dreams
aches sometimes
laughs in amazement
and perfect joy beyond happiness
i suppose the difference
is that i feel compelled to record
my valleys and mountains
and fountains
therefore, words being my paint
my negative developed in the dark
i write
i wish i could read or
see or hear sung
the inside thoughts worked outside
of all the beautiful people
there are in the world
beautiful not meaning
the acclaimed icons of the day
but the images of God
in every colour
i’m no different in profundity
words just leak out
between the seams that hold me
together
i am not a concert pianist
but i plunk away happily
i will never sing an aria
yet my heart soars
even with gravelly harmonies
likewise i am no shakespeare
i content myself with glimmers
of brilliance
celebrating mundane and holy
equally
the glimmers of brilliance are such a buzz, even if they appear infrequently. writing is our contact with our being. the wholenerss, the adventure into the unknown. I admire your beauty
and humility. Donnie
with single voice you speak the heart of many
A thought-provoking revelation, as regards one’s reaction to feedback vis-a-vis one’s ‘relationship’ with words. The last two lines reflect the range of your works, which I enjoy reading. Cheers.
“to me it’s just writing
it’s like breathing”
Hear, hear. :)