Dedicated to those eccentric things some writers do. Heck, some of it could apply to us!



Writer –

House full of bits

Pads here and there

Notebooks in drawers

And bags and

Other places besides.

Folded bits of papers


are presaged

in backs of books

“scribblings” within the spines.

Rubbles and stacks

Sit on desks

Various annotations

Adding to the collected

Words in ink or print.

I am a writer,

I’ve jottings here and there.

Pages and parchment adorn the place,

They furnish it with care.

And when I lose those pages,

I pout and stress and frown,

And fossick round for ages,

Turning the house upside down.

Writer –

Dreaming though life

Trying hard to

Concentrate on a conversation


That unfinished story

It’s going round and round and

Is so vivid!

Where’s a pen, pencil, pad?


Like a contented contemplative.

That face over there

Those big, round eyes

The jutting jaw.

She is speaking but

Oh I did not see

Those freckles

across her nose before.

Might any of these re-appear

As a character

In some seaside epic

‘Man vs. Sea’?

The dinner the other evening

the throw-away line

tossed between stations, as

commuters rush by.

All could be the stuff

The writer gathers

Like a veritable verbal

Bower bird

Glowing with delighted preoccupation

At the creation


The written word.

The writer reads the faces

With an intense, devouring gaze,

Forming all the characters,

All the stories of their days.

The writer sifts over life’s events,

To squeeze the meaning out,

It then re-emerges in the pages

In the jottings round about.

Simon C.J. Falk           17 January 2015

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