The Art of Writing

A writer’s hand moves ‘cross the page with swish and slither, flick

With words so careful and selected, he maps out his sketch

The nimble pen elgates the words with flourishes, so swift

He draws an outline, thinks it through, and chooses words with care

They tell a structured, upright tale that in bookstores might well fair

But wait! Oh no! That isn’t the truth!

For writing ought not be nearly so dull

The intention of author is not to be perfect

But to express the emotions of soul!

When a writer makes art, she puts passion and thoughts

Not just a stiff, upright, collarbone tale

For when words come from heart and have room in your soul

Only then will the beauty set sail

Words are anything, everything one wants them to be

Elegant, swift, graceful, wise

Or burning with fire and anger and rage

Or perhaps a sweet and delicate guise

A true writer’s mind works with color and spark

And is bursting with flames of emotions

She tosses up words into a big vat

And brews up a strong, magical potion

Her pen is her sword, and mightier so
For when words begin pouring out forth

They can scorch, they can scar, they can wither with might

Words carry a powerful torch

Words may jab through the heart with a double-edged sword

Or they may stroke and caress of the brain
Words make some go mad, and lose all forms of reason

Or words may be all that is keeping one sane

Each writer thinks different, each is brilliant, unique

No two writers exactly the same

When one leaves it is sorrow for one and for all

A copy of one gone never came

Alone in the art world writing is not, for there are surely outlets galore

But it is special and unique in it’s own little way, just as every medium ought to be

Whether painting or drawing or sketching a song

Each deserves to be its own, and unique

Remember, dear writers, oh dear fellow authors

To stay creative and to love all of art

Be swift and spontaneous, wacky and fresh, write well and write lovingly, from heart