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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/nordicnoir/day/8-26-2020
by Ned
Rated: 13+ · Book · Entertainment · #2199980
Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life.
I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance?

I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them.


Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog.




August 26, 2020 at 11:51am
August 26, 2020 at 11:51am
#991629
I haven't been having great success with prompts lately. It seems like every time I write on a particular subject, a few days later, that subject comes up in a prompt in some challenge or contest. I can't even think how to begin. I wrote what I had to say already, I'm dry.

But it's weird how this keeps happening. It is as if the creative mojo is being transferred from one writer to another from the website through the servers, over the internet and filling up all the little WiFi routers all over the world. It's the hive mind. It's like the Borg.

Or it may be that I am making excuses for not having written a Haiku yet for the Promptly Poetry Challenge. I swear I have been thinking about nature for days. But try as I might, i have yet to come up with a new angle. I feel that I have emptied myself of all my feelings towards trees, autumn leaves, morning, night, dusk, sunrise, sunset, birds, etc. and, oh yeah... etc. You get the picture.

It's dangerous to let me write when the usual subjects are exhausted It could get ugly in those 17 syllables.

I have to go think about nature some more, or look at it. Maybe I will email David Attenborough. He may know of some cute chipmunk stories.


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/nordicnoir/day/8-26-2020