Tag: Writer

Cipher

~ Vanessa ~ Leave a comment

https://youtube.com/shorts/VE3QCMjQPYM?feature=share

I have not the slightest idea
What to write
Yet;
My fingers ache
For the outstretched movement of muscle,
To bring symbols to life,
With a scratch of graphite,
The flow of ink,
In key presses,
Or a screen swipe by impatient digits;
This mind is a cipher
of possible letter,
word combinations,
Awaiting the right alignment,
A key
–Inspiration,
To Communicate
Feeling and thought,
Forged in the furthest recesses
Of this artistically wired mind,
Bringing forth symbols,
Strung into messages,
All in an effort
to unlock,
and light up thine.

Go to Sleep

~ Vanessa ~ 1 Comment

Here,
In the dark,
Dear one,
There is peace,
And most often quiet,
But you are missing nothing,
But my audible silence
As I write this poem,
As I think these thoughts,
As I coax myself toward slumber

And alas,
Once my eyelids have grown heavy,
And my writing utensil drops,
I close up “shop,”
And I too
Go
To sleep

Half a World Away

~ Vanessa ~ Leave a comment

When you were half a world away
I worried for you,
Worried for your loss,
Worried for your life,
Worried for your mind,
Worried for the time slipping you by,
Worried you would not receive my next letter,
Worried I would lose a friend,
I had yet met,
When you were half a world away,

But I was gifted
Something not every pen pal gets,
I was gifted
From half a world away
The chance to see you,
Know you,
Touch you;
My worries were prayers,
Part of me believes,
Answered by angels I cannot name,
That brought you home,
From half a world away

Half a world away,
I cannot fathom what filled your sight,
What fears might still keep you up at night,
That is not my place to know,
But to just be here,
Writer and reader,
Companion
Near,
Half a world away

“Artist” by Name

~ Vanessa ~ Leave a comment

I am an artist
Of various mediums,
I stake my claim.
Long denied myself the title,
Without profession or degree,
But artist needs no authority,
I just am,
And so I will be,
I will write with paint,
And pen my portraiture,
I am an artist,
It is the creative force alone
That controls me,
Where it sends me,
I am yet to know,
There muses sing,
My hands work feverishly,
Between word and visual art,
The paper is my stage,
And this art is my ballet.