The Writer

Part One: A Song

There sits the writer, hand on chin,
trying to calm the song reverberating within.
It is a song wrought from depression,
yet to the joyous mind it can teach us a lesson.

The writer writes of many things,
all showing which way his mood swings.
He thinks of music and a band,
sings of sadness and rain.
All flowing through his mind like so many grains of sand.
His eyes are the hourglass that holds each grain.

He opens his eyes and begins to write,
writing with ink as black as the night.




Part Two: Writer's Block

There the writer sits again,
trying to find a song to spin.
For finding a note to unravel
would end his mind's long travel.

But no inspiration comes to him,
as he sits in sunlight growing dim.
The moon's light comes in time,
and still no song can he find.

He closes his eyes, seeing with more than sight,
and sees what has caused him this blight.
The thing he finds, he stops to think,
that this is what keeps his paper free of ink.

He reaches around it to find the light within,
and from it a song he begins to spin.




Part Three: The Waters of the Mind


There the writer sits on the brink
of discovering a song that will spring forth from the ink.
Ideas flow through the waters of his mind,
songs that float just out of his reach,
those with potential greater than the most alluring speach.

Those notes that are music, the soft lyrics aswell,
they reverberate throughout his very being.
He stares with eyes that do more than see,
the eyes that unravel the music of his very meaning.

He reaches into the waters of his mind,
and grasps one of the many songs he is to find.
He lowers his pen, his greastest tool,
carefully so that the ink wil not pool.

And into those strokes he pours his soul,
making them more than words in his eternal goal.
From the ink leaps a song,
one that will be remembered all time long.

Brandon Richey, 12-2006