I sit in front of a blank screen and allow my mind to work. Sometimes sparked by a story, a newsflash or a thought, the emotions, feelings, tales and pictures flow. Out of the void the ideas rush and coalesce into substance.

Holding an idea in my head I craft it into shape – a short piece? A novel? It will grow and form and takes its form. I merely pluck it from the void and breathe fire into its veins. It takes over and directs me.

My task is to find the words to paint the scenes, tell the story, find the characters that inhabit it and bring it to life.

Who can tell?

Sometimes it is merely describing something we all have seen. At other times it is creating the impossible and imbuing it with belief.

I am a writer.

I paint another reality with words so that you can experience it too.

 

A Writer

I chase dreams

Through the worlds of my mind.

I pluck stories

From the vines that I find.

I paint pictures

On the fabric of the air.

 

Thoughts are my brushes,

Paper is my outlet.

Words are my paint,

Ideas are my palette.

 

The visions I produce are real.

They live and breathe and play.

I set them in motion

Each and every day.

I arrange the words like puzzles;

Each where it should be.

I bring them to life

And then I set them free.

 

Opher 16.7.2015