This week: Poetry WavesEdited by: Fyn
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The winds and the waves are always on the side of the ablest navigators. ~~Edward Gibbon
Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motions of the stars, and they pass by themselves without wondering. ~~Saint Augustine
When you grow up by the sea, you spend a good deal of time looking at the horizon. You wonder what on Earth the waves might bring - and where the sea might deposit you - until one day you know you have lived between two places, the scene of arrival and the point of departure. ~~Andrew O'Hagan
I was happiest between the waves. ~~Gertrude Ederle
Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind. ~~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
When was the last time you spent a quiet moment just doing nothing - just sitting and looking at the sea, or watching the wind blowing the tree limbs, or waves rippling on a pond, a flickering candle or children playing in the park?~~ Ralph Marston
The world is full of poetry. The air is living with its spirit; and the waves dance to the music of its melodies, and sparkle in its brightness. ~~James Gates Percival
I was talking to someone on the phone the other day
and she said that I seemed to be riding the crest of a writing wave ---
riding the crest of a writing wave
When I wasn't looking,
the tide came in
in sand eddies and
swamp me as,
with flailing arms,
I tread the worded waters.
And just like that, I am off and writing not a newsletter (well, maybe) but a poem. The muse holds my hands' hostage - messes with the word production center of my brain. But then, as a writer knows, you MUST, seriously, must grab those thoughts before they skitter away into the hole of 'Lost Poems.'
Swords are dyslexic words
from a tired brain with eyes
seeing backward and it is hard
to avoid the shard of steel
when all you see
are the mirrored images
My other friend is in a slump. She's such a good writer, but her muse has wandered off leaving her stuck in a no-writers-land of hidden words (or swords) and she's flailing ... because when you WANT to write and can't, it is excruciating!
Gullies and sinkholes and troughs below,
The wicked witch grabbed her muse by the toe;
I can hear the screaming as it's dragged away:
muddied sounds in word souffle.
Trough. Goth. Troth. Both. Blew. Blue. True, too.
Maybe my great-granddaughter is write ... err ... right. I have 'hopscotch brain!' "Throw the stone, GG, then hop over the spot and land over there beyond it." I get it, jump or leap over/beyond the sidetracking ideas. FOCUS. But, but, but, that is no fun at all. Too many times I've experienced the drought ... when the words run out.
The drought ...
when the ideas run out
and a thought sinks wordlessly
into the sand as soon as it is borne
from the tongue -
no time to lounge yet
no point in digging frantically
in the sand: it outnumbers
the words. It is knife sharp
in its cruelty and will only
collapse-- burying you
even as it shreds you to pieces.
And there. I've done it again. Sidetracked and off on another bit of playing with word-dough.
*saves. Walks away from the newsletter.*
*Comes back - just told someone my newsletter is turning into fried soup. Runs away from my desk.*
I am so happy that my brain is overflowing with odd inspirations ... but it is difficult to keep it at bay when it is in flood stage! At times, it can be every bit as difficult as when your muse takes off on vacation leaving you behind, word-strangled, grasping for ideas. There is a character in the book/movie The Phantom Tollbooth whose name is 'The Happy Medium.' I need to find him. Have you seen him anywhere? (BTW - TPT is a movie every writer deserves to watch, needs to watch! Purportedly for kids, 90% of the wordplay goes screaming over their heads. Do yourself a favor and watch it!) I need that 'Happy Medium' to mediate my meanderings! I need a meal - not starvation, not an endless banquet!
While it is great when the ideas simply flow, writing is work. Regardless of whether or not our muse turns into the three-year-old jumping and pulling at us - "Hey, hey, HEY YOU!!! Yeah, you. Write. You need to write. Writer ... writer ... WRITER!!!" -- we still have this need to produce something. Even if - occasionally, it truly isn't what we intended to do at all!
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Melisscious says: This is great for anyone whose never done those things for sure! For anyone who not only observes but does this so often it's automatically part of the fibre of their being it was a looong, but an ultimately nice reminder.
Monty answers: Yes I have and yes my coffee gets cold and yes my desk is by a window.
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