Writing and me

Composed in 2022 for a poetry contest. Revised it today for sharing here.

I like the sound of hurried, impatient typing,

When inspiration strikes,

And I can’t wait to pour my thoughts,

turning them into words and onto paper.

I also like the aroma of the drying ink,

watching it change texture,

while I rapidly jot down my thoughts,

As if, if I take my time, the thoughts will evade me.

(Acrylic Ink and water based markers on 300 gsm paper)

As the handwriting dwindles,

Proving that the impatient ideas have taken over,

And cannot wait to burst free into the world of words,

The deep impression on the paper,

while I deliberate and write forcefully,

Is a touch I crave.

There is no dearth of vision or feelings.

Writing brings me alive,

And I’m content, knowing I can write.

Thoughts bombard my lonesome moments,

sometimes shared, at times recorded, jotted down.

Sometimes sentences form within dreams,

While sleep is nearing its end,

And I wake up, to immediately trap them in words,

I’m only left with a belated appreciation of my now-useless mind

And my escaped inspiration.

Writing is fun, I am not obsessed with it yet,

unfortunately,

But I do seem obsessed with the self.

I haven’t yet learnt to separate ‘me’ from it,

Nor have I made it my own.

Yet I call it an original work,

And try to share it further.

Perhaps others would like to make it their own.

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