The Writer’s Manifesto

Give me half an hour of peace
and a desk to write at,
a pen or pencil, and a notebook.


Give me a morning to daydream away
to conjure up worlds and magic
and drink coffee while I’m busy
in my own head.


Give me space to return to other worlds
to sail away across the seas
to a place that nobody knows of but me.


Give me time alone to be at one
in my own mind
to put words to paper
even if they don’t mean much
they make me feel better
and then I’m all yours –
for a few hours at least.


The Writer’s Pencil

The pencil in my hand

takes over from my dumb thoughts

of doubt and writes in a way

that I haven’t let it in a while.

It’s freeing, I thin, to be like this

and let my hand take charge

as it writes, words spilling out

like they’ve been locked away

and are now running free

without looking back,

like they’ve been given a chance

to flee – flee into the sunshine

with all their might.