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Violet Winters

Rookie - 71 Points (September 13 / Baltimore, MD)

Between The Lines


Don’t read my work
and claim to see
something that there may not be.
Don’t shred my words
and break my prose,
and pick through for
what you think you know.
A writer doesn’t write for you.
A writer writes like flowers dew;
Overnight, or through the day,
we perspire what we need to say.
It trickles out, we collect those drops,
arranging them neatly
in an intangible box.
And when we find
we’ve found enough,
we take that box
and empty this stuff.
We carve into paper,
or parchment,
or screens,
the mind's imagery,
or worries
or dreams.
We speak in a voice
our own soul will know
and you mispaint us with ignorance
as philosophical pros.
We are not
just
fluff.
A writer’s pen is like her heart.
Her scrawling script
is not just art.
If eyes can be windows
and hearts can be doors,
a writer’s utensils
are what brings her forth.
Between the lines
there's nothing to read;
those are only the spaces
where we stop to breathe.
Go ahead now;
analyze me.

Submitted: Thursday, September 19, 2013
Edited: Thursday, September 19, 2013

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  • Rookie Ol Boy (7/11/2014 2:03:00 AM)

    I'll analyze you.

    : at the time you got this down (meaning when you had it, and not necessarily when you wrote It down. It is a VERY well constructed poem. It IS a piece of art. And that's what you [ala Oscar Wilde} WERE going for.) you were struggling with it. It being surrendering everything else in order to keep Being a writer. An artist.

    An artist.

    And you WERE an artist doing it!

    You WERE! ! ! !

    :) (Report) Reply

  • Veteran Poet - 3,842 Points Bri Edwards (7/7/2014 2:28:00 PM)

    i love the line:

    A writer writes like flowers dew; ................dew, as in guttation (see below; i'll grant you poetic license on this one) , which i don't think i'd ever heard of, AND as in do. nice! and a rhyme as well!

    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    from a wikipedia? article about dew:

    Dew is water in the form of droplets that appears on thin, exposed objects in the morning or evening due to condensation. As the exposed surface cools by radiating its heat, atmospheric moisture condenses at a rate greater than that at which it can evaporate, resulting in the formation of water droplets.[1]

    When temperatures are low enough, dew takes the form of ice; this form is called frost (frost is, however, not frozen dew) .

    Because dew is related to the temperature of surfaces, in late summer it forms most easily on surfaces that are not warmed by conducted heat from deep ground, such as grass, leaves, railings, car roofs, and bridges.

    Dew should not be confused with guttation, which is the process by which plants release excess water from the tips of their leaves.
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    my analysis: with a few letter changes, you would be Violent Writer.

    but, NO! . you, i think, are NOT a violent writer. you are like a breath of spring, probably to steal a phrase from someone more famous than myself. actually, i thought to say you have stolen my door....i mean heart. but that would be too romantic for ME to say. and, like my friend (who mentioned you to me) , Luvinthe Now, a poerty [sic] stalker I am not!
    a scintillating (i NEVER use that word) and well wrought (i NEVER say that either!) poem.

    thanks for sharing. :) bri


    We speak in a voice
    our own soul will know
    and you mispaint us with ignorance
    as philosophical pros.
    We are not
    just
    fluff. (Report) Reply

  • Bronze Star - 7,044 Points Mr. Nobody (3/7/2014 10:36:00 AM)

    I'd love to keep reading and feel all your thought,
    But I must stop now, cuz poerty stalker I am not!

    You write GREAT stuff! ! ! ! ! ! !
    thanks (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 913 Points Susan Lacovara (12/26/2013 9:42:00 AM)

    Bravo, bravo, bravo...we write, for the preservation of what our soul's speak...there is only an undeniable need, that poets alone, understand, to put pen to paper...and free the verses of our hearts. Loved this write. PEACE (Report) Reply

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