There’s a gaze,
A gaze that only writers and true thinkers posses.
This flickering something reflected in the eye,
Something from another world,
A thing so mysterious and perhaps a bit farfetched,
But this thing sprouts a whole new branch of things.
A branch of ideas and possibilities,
Some people call us writer’s crazy,
“Beings of some unknown planet.”
With this branch of things we can use it to carve out creative stories. Paint or draw amazingly beautiful masterpieces.
But even those creative masterpieces need work, to transform from just a stick of thought to something physically there.
Writers write; it’s what we do.
Hacking away like miners hacking away at a piece earth with hopeful eagerness to find something to make up for all of his tiresome efforts.
The diamond.
That clear piece of mineral gets your mind wandering at its reflective glare.
Visible but not visible.
Somehow, see through. Just like the way a writer looks at you, but beyond you, at something unseen.
Writing something invisible, visible
Giving it splashes of color
Feels and textures
We pick a person
We dress it pretty.
And give them a show.
We are not the ordinary kidnapper
We pick,
Not steal
Tying personalities in nice pretty package
We give them a story
And wish them the best in their adventure
Panorama Poetry 