Scriptorium
Worlds of iridescent gleam
all spring up glinting at the call
insouciant pens make, or they seem
to do: transform a drafty hall
into an arras-covered way
transecting palace corridors–
or granite boulders, flecked with grey,
to gravestones marking mythic wars’
highest heroics, men of myth;
or remnants of some long-forgot
mysterious monster’s kin and kith,
frozen in time upon the spot;
One peep at some dark road reveals
where mullioned windows lend a flash-
quick view of Heaven; one more steals
a different twitch of the eyelash–
a glimpse of Hell–its portals there
right in the same dark road just viewed
as commonplace by those who wear
mere men’s eyes to the interlude.
The glasses worn, instead, by scribes
can coalesce the simplest things
into the marvels of their tribes,
into the wealth of queens and kings,
into kaleidoscopic joys,
playgrounds of sound and touch and hope,
can turn mere scribblings and noise
into a length of golden rope
binding together known, unknown
and things not yet imagined still,
telling those tales their pens have grown
out of pure nothingness and nil
to shape breathtaking, worthy lands
and characters of dash, to cleanse
the mundane world with authors’ hands,
the swordlike flourish of those pens.
Pardon my purple prose . . .
Art-Colored Glasses 
We owe a great debt to writers from every century and place. The ability to string words together in a special way is to be much admired – you seem to have a talent for doing so.
So kind of you as always, my friend, and I thank you! I *am* very glad of all the writers who string together the words that mesmerize me so.
The pen is mightier than the sword – although were I to be attacked by a homicidal maniac, I would prefer that I had the sword. Outstanding as usual. 🙂
Sword, schmord–I’ve heard tell you’re pretty handy with the bow and arrow! 🙂
We owe so much to that first individual that left an ochre handprint on the cave wall or rock outcropping. S/he and Einstein have far more in common than an appalling lack of hair conditioner.
Come to think of it, ol’ Albert would certainly have fit in with those early peoples when it comes to fashion . . . and wouldn’t it be an interesting adventure if we could revive an ancient human or two, communicate directly with her/him, and see what we could learn from such a perspective!!
Lack of hair conditioner? ROFL Sorry for interrupting, Kathryn, but this had me!
This is awesome, such an elegant and poignant tribute to the craft of writing. Very nicely done.
Thank you, AJ, for reading, for commenting, and for writing alongside me!
I have to say that every time I hit a writer’s slump I feel like giving up, but right now, all I can think about is writing – creating. Thanks for the motivational boost. Such wise words as always 😉
Write on, good friend, write on!
This is, by far, my favourite poem from you. The magic of writing has never been expressed more beautiful. The different worlds we venture in through these words – through every structured phrase or unstructured mess…It’s absoutely brilliant.
I would like this poem a thousand times over and it wouldn’t be enough.
I love it.
Thank you, ‘Nessa, from the bottom of my heart.
xo
How words bring the page to life. This poem is FULL of LIFE! Almost makes me want to get out there and write that Great American Novel. However, since my writing skills are appalling and my attention span is woefully short, I will leave it to you experts!
That novel, that’s a grail few of us can aspire to; for now I’m finding it plenty of a challenge to just put the words together for a unique post each day. We shall see where it leads! And while we see where, you and I? We Short Attention Span Artists will just have to stick together and keep working on what we do in mutual support and admiration! 😀
Very, very beautiful. And very inspiring and provoking of lots of thoughts and memories. “Mullioned windows” took me back to my (very happy) school days!
Something tells me that you, like me, spent a lot of time gazing out those mullioned windows at school and daydreaming . . . 🙂 I’m glad this brought *happy* memories!
So beautiful…. This is great writing, dear Kathryn, I am impressed so much. Thank you, with my love, nia
And I thank you as always for playing Muse to my scribe, dear Nia!!
Your words, like pearls strung! Simply beautiful.
How very sweet of you! And now I’m picturing you in your most beautiful apron, with a string of pearls . . . 🙂
binding together known, unknown
and things not yet imagined still,
telling those tales their pens have grown
out of pure nothingness and nil
to shape breathtaking, worthy lands
and characters of dash, to cleanse
That has always facinated me! how writers can creat entire worlds out of thin air..worlds full of details and creatures and characters you fall in love with or hate forever
You must have studied it all quite well, to write so beautifully yourself! I love reading your posts not only because they make me very very hungry and have such exquisite photos but because you tell the tale of them so wonderfully. 🙂
Such a dream it is to travel with you wherever or however your words lead…
Same to you, my friend! Journeys shared are always so much greater and more pleasurable an adventure, I think. 🙂
I’ve always wanted to write a story but prose is completely out of my league. Maybe I’m best suited to little snippets or short stories. You have mad skills, madam!
Thank you for such generosity, but I must differ (not about my mad skills, because it’s rude to contradict a compliment, no matter how outrageous 😀 )–you write terrific prose too, or a whole passel of us wouldn’t be eagerly signing up to read your stuff as often as you’ll deign to send it to us! So, as a handful of us have been busy reminding each other lately, think of writing Big Stuff as writing a whole bunch of Small Stuff that’s related (however remotely) and then pasting it together in an interesting way. Might be a short story or poem or essay collection, but it might turn out to be a novel, too, you never know!