William Wordsworth, softly whispered ”fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” The wringing and squeezing of the heart, pours out, as deep gashes, on the virginal white sheet, of the unsuspecting paper. Writers let their hearts, bleed through their fingers. The quill drips, aroma essences of a lifetime.
The silence of the unwritten word, that hovers over the writings is the potent ingredient that draws out each readers varied imagination. A bond, a relationship is instantly established between the writer and reader almost maniacally proprietorial. A vague sense of possessiveness, takes over the writer. He simply has to worm his way, into his readers mind, with his words.
In a way, writing is an act of generosity. You are sharing your innermost thoughts and feelings, with anyone who cares to see. You are raw and exposed; your ideas and opinions, are out on the clothes line, like your fresh laundry, waving in the breeze. Words are like powerful weapons of both destruction and allure. They knot, swing, swirl and tango; they prey on human emotions, like vultures.
The devilish, diabolical words can annihilate and the benevolent, charitable words can create perfection, with a few strokes. The late, Abdul Kalam, wrote for two hours, after midnight. It was his love, he said. One devotes, one’s most cherished moments, to what one loves. Writers, often keep on writing, in their minds, while at work or play. The prototypes, of the famous, absent-minded professor, with spectacles, precariously perched on shiny noses. I simply cannot resist, quoting Francis Bacon, here ”Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man.”
Lily Swarn is an internationally acclaimed poet, novelist, and essayist, author of 10 books. She is the 2023-24 International Beat Poet Laureate India and a Peace and Humanity ambassador. She can be reached at sukhish83@gmail.com
