Some thoughts on writing and reviews

Trouble is but a look. Communication, lack of, gun pulled, shots fired, dead brother, said shut up, stood up, dead. Cast in vision left on a palette, colors blended, mind twisted, heart wanders, wanted something more. Each person seeks a value either in writing or sharing life. The communication is given in layers. If words are all we speak, the color is left on the palette. It is a gray world indeed.

In writing, each takes what they will from the words read. We all provide input on what we expect. Place and position, form, grammar, language arts, which? Creativity, what color is lost in style demand?

Beautiful music spoke in the language of the people. Wonder and dream left on the table of bountiful fruits painted pure from the soul left to lay. Not for me, I find and devour the voice and the words. Wrap my self in the images created and smile in the joy given freely from the heart of the writer.

Old ghosts dance about telling tales of perfection, I laugh and enjoy both. In the mystery of the words laid to page, I find dreams, shared, life lived and in these I am better for the read and the write.

Reviews of work at any level are subjective controlled by rules established by the reviewer. The gifts brought to the table may not be seen by all, but that is okay. Not everyone wants to drive a red Porsche.

For some the beauty is in the flower opening, for others it is in the smooth action of a pistol, others the power of a perfectly tuned engine. Each eye finds need and want in its own place.

Rank and stack, ah the measurement, a compliment, or dollars spent, all things in life have a place, where they are put in a mind or on a shelf is not important, as long as they are put someplace.

Walls covered in documents, shelves in trophy, have never matched, "Grandpa, I like this one please read it again."