eyes meet, heart beats, skips quickly, again
by disillusioned
(Poetry/Lyrics, 1913 views) - 9/4/03
(recorded 9/4/03 @ 1:33:50 AM)
eyes meet, heart beats, skips quickly, again

The above is from a poem I once authored... Looking back on previous works is always a... well... words fail me to describe the experience as it happens so to me. The feelings elicited by such an endeavor into one's earlier writings can range, at least for me, from self-contentment as I smile at the brilliance of a particular stanza, to sheer terror as I grow embarrassed for ever committing such words to paper with my name attached. Yet, I fear that if I wrote everything with the intent of it being perfect in my mind, even years from now, I wouldn't have very much to write at all. Writing is a process, never ending. It is a skill which one can never perfect, at least coming from the mouth of a humble, substandard contributor to the field of creation and expression through words as a whole.

I tend to like things written out of true passion. Something inspired by feelings of love or longing are more often than not unadulterated, pure expressions of the human spirit and what emotions one's heart is capable of holding so dear. This, at least my personal experience.

incredible, breath taken
gladly given from me

Previous musing: Enigmatic at best...
Back to disillusioned's Notebook :: Back to the Musings
You know, that is the way writing works.

I've found that any time I write anything... I can be so proud of it... but a day later, I'll look at it again, and I immediately realize that I'm already beyond it. It is a difficult thing.

But a writer is someone for whom writing is the most difficult.

   [Lindsay (J) 9/4/03 5:30 AM]

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