Of Writing

Light taps

Of fingers against keys

Spaced intermediate between

Bouncing, loud taps

Of those fingers upon those keys.

Pauses of no noise happen

As a hand strokes a chin.

Click, click

The mouse button gets pressed

As the wandering begins

Across the highway of information

That only the Internet can provide.

Sometimes mutterings of words, phrases

Are heard being read,

But the one who is reading,

As you and I know,

Can only be

Reading for themselves.

I read

To get the rhythm in my head.

You may read

To get the characters to be alive.

However, we all have the same goal.

We read as writers

Who are trying to pull our creativity

Out of our heads

And on to the page.

Whenever we read,

It is usually in mutterings

That shove words together

Without even a pause.

You and I

Will go back

To hands dancing and bouncing

Upon the keyboards

To craft our creativite endevor

While writers of old and some new

Will grab their mighty pens

To scratch across the page

Leaving behind written words

That form something new.

Once we are done,

Some of us

Will have a grin

Pulling at our mouths,

But others of us,

Like me some of the time,

Will have tightly drawn lips

In neither smile or frown.

I find I cast myself like this

More often

Than what I would care for.


We are writers

And being stuffed

With ideas,

It will make us slow.