The Wordless Writer: Chapter 1

The Wordless Writer

Pen in hand, not knowing the reason

He just wants to paint the season

With his words. He's breathless; mute.

His facial thoughts can't constitute

His mindless ganters*. He's no good .

He tries and tries and though he should,

No poetry flows, no words come out.

Neither reckless anger nor whines or pouts.

He works away for days and days.

He works so long. The trees are gray

From winter's chill. The spring sets in.

A year it's been. He tries again.

He reads a library, searching for

The spark he had so he can restore

His former art, his lover, heart.

All this silence breaks apart

The few stray thoughts he wanders through.

What in the world can he possibly do?

His words have gone along, along.

He just wants to paint his song.

Pen in hand, he knows the reason.

“How will I describe the season?”

Kathleen Smith

*ganter (gan - tur)- blabs to himself; spoken thoughts; outbursts.