Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part nine

Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part nine

your green, your blue swirl together

Continuing on from and now, surrender, part eight of Behind the eyes of a writer™, I surrender now to you.

...green and blue light

You are green and blue light, swirling together. I hear you thinking. There is something about you I want to learn, grow into and hide in. I do already. You know.

You do it too. With me. You have come to cover me with belief. You cover yourself too with me.

Even though you are a landscape I have already walked through, you are new. There are many curves and ways about you I have yet to parse. I have yet to live the habits of you.

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© 2013 R.E.L. Copywriting

Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part eight

Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part eight

birds flying. image by Frank Godwin

Continuing on from when your insides melt, part seven of Behind the eyes of a writer™ series, what is inside you when you feel like melting?

...and now, surrender

I surrender now to you. To you, and to the powers that be that will make my dreams come true in a second once I let go. To you I speak…

Silence holds much power now. To harness words into mindful imagery, which taste of all the memories we have savored. And from there, to be in a state of delight known only to the birds that fly above the winds that traverse through mountain passes.

Why do I surrender now? Because to hold on is to count every moment, every breath. Do you actually hear me now in this moment, transferred to you somehow? You do.

image source: Frank Godwin

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Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part seven

Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part seven

of time, of you

Continuing on from i see now in your mind, part six of Behind the eyes of a writer™ series, the way you are looking at me now creates an incredible story in me.

...when your insides melt

What is inside you when you feel like melting? Are the particles of you floating eloquently in space aimlessly, or alive… waiting to pounce? You remind me of a memory where the bubbles of time enter without a cue, knowing their place. As rain trickles down, you feel your shield disarm and instead embrace the piercing of each drop.

I gave myself unknowingly, yet trusting. I knew I too needed to be healed.

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Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part six

Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part six

i splash, you jump

Continuing on from when it's all wrong, part five in Behind the eyes of a writer™ series, it's obvious to me that creative words come from the heart.

...i see now in your mind

The way you are looking at me now creates an incredible story in me. It goes on for days. Did you know the power of your eyes? The power of us—as my eyes connect with yours, even from the distance, even in pixels that attempt to encapsulate skin and texture?

You are telling me that you would have done it; you would have immersed yourself too because I did. We would have been fools together, yet not, as we would have been truly happy in our moment made for us. It's ok, you whisper, as you wipe my makeup that smeared from my tears. We could not have planned it better if we tried.

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Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part five

Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part five

when? whenever i feel like it. that's when.

Continuing on from sometimes silenced, part four of Behind the eyes of a writer™ series, somtimes the words don't come.

When are you going to write poetry? Do you have to feel like it to write poetry?

...when it's all wrong

It‘s obvious to me that creative words come from the heart and the soul of life, which when flowing freely come sporadically. It is what’s in the silence in between moments.

When it’s all wrong—when all avenues are clogged—the words hide behind what’s tender and unspoken. As if being controlled by some other force, they lie dormant crying unheard, alone.

Expressions of apathy take the place of worlds of hurt, anguish, love and tenderness. They scream “you don’t care anyway so why should I speak.”

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Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part four

Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part four

cotton in my brain, in my heartContinuing on from asleep but not forgotten, part three of Behind the eyes of a writer™ series, as the wind blows, I know why I'm a writer.

...sometimes slienced

Sometimes the words don’t come—well only the ones that no one wants to hear. These are the times when I need them the most. It’s when I desperately wish I could write a wonderful book just for me to read, so that I will believe that it’s possible to touch another being in this moment.

Now, words frozen inside me, stuck in oblivion, I am clogged and cold. Without the waterfall of thoughts de-corking my heart, I am like stone.

The thoughts are in my heart. My heart is broken. My love has been squashed on and made to feel worthless. All of my feelings—made best into soulful words—have nowhere safe to be.

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© 2012 R.E.L. Copywriting

Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part three

Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part three

if you think i'm asleep, think again...

Continuing on from when reader meets writer in part two of Behind the eyes of a writer™ series, write with me as if I'm writing you, as if I hear only your voice.

...asleep but not forgotten

As the wind blows, I know why I’m a writer. Because life is in balance; like a seesaw, it tips. I see through a lens that looks for what’s interspersed as opposites—each sting has a petal. I can hear what you see when I am grateful to be alive.

Behind the eyes of a thinker, who disappoints, not. The thought of a dream behind a barrier cannot exist until you see it.

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Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part two

Behind the eyes of a writer™: A series, part two.

painting by Amanda G. Wright Continuing on from a faucet of words, part one of the Behind the eyes of a writer™ series, the writer is a person whose faucet of words continue to flow.

Write with me
... as if I'm writing you
... as if I hear only your voice.

...when reader meets writer

When reader meets writer, nuances of meaning become interspersed as a vision is painted in one mind, relayed by a dream in the other mind, yet transposed. The writer knows how to allude to a holographic world—once secret, now exposed.

Writing involves a sinking into silence—that is loud enough to hear inklings of thoughts. Whether they be thoughts within you or thoughts of another person telling a story, listening is an art. As whispers emanate words, it’s a skill to listen to the message of the one for whom the words are written.

For, listening goes beyond the ears. It involves the intellect as it mixes with imagination. Capturing the imaginative style with coherent words on a paper that involve original ideas is writing.

Image by Amanda G. Wright

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