I want to look at you without you staring back,
Like a freeze frame in a movie so I can get the detail.
I want to touch your hair and see how substantial it is,
Shine a light a see if the red is a product of some bottle.
From the corner of my gaze I think yours is a young face
But whether there’s hope or angst I can’t see from here.
So I want to kneel down in front and burn into those eyes,
Read the soul, explore your emotions.
Your clothing is functional, drab in most ways
But is that just a cover for a curving figure.
Can I see if you are assessing the room,
Hunting for appreciative looks or hiding away.
It’s hard to tell your reads through subversive glances,
Desperately avoiding your view when your hair is flicked back.
And when you brushed it back, were you preening for my benefit?
or did you just have a knot that was causing annoyance.
Forgive my stare, forgive my interest
For you can’t know what madness drives me on.
I must assess you, I must admire you, I must own you in my mind.
If you had this curse, if you stood in my shoes you would understand.
You must be put in print, you must be scribed and be known.
When you live in my words I will expose your very soul.
I am a writer and I will make you immortal …..
…. until they burn my book!
Sometimes it’s hard being a writer for we stare at our world in order to know it, to ponder it. This is poem asking foregiveness of those we stare at. Yes, we are disturbed and probably mad, but that’s what makes us so creative.
G R Jordan author, poet, and top Dad apparently!