During David Weisner's CLA talk he said that in creating art you can't wait for inspiration to come to you. Instead, you must get to work and focus on the process. Truer words have not been spoken. I know I can't just stare at the blank page and wait for the words to come. I have to put pen to paper and write. That said, I've never been one to easily "free write." Those were dreaded words in my high school English class. I did often stare at the page because I needed some parameters within which to write. That's why I like poetry stretches--they give me something to focus on and think about. They may be a minor inspiration, but they do help me get started.
This week, let's write about something that inspires you. Leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results here later this week.
This week, let's write about something that inspires you. Leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results here later this week.
INSPIRATION
ReplyDeleteInspiration comes with nouns:
granddaughter,
waterfall,
rosebay willowherb,
mob of crows.
It comes with verbs:
transcend,
caterpault,
jete,
love..
It comes with adjectives, with adverbs, with gerunds:
Leaping quickly over the myriad obstacles--
the aches of being 71,
the pain of remembering,
the joy of remembering,
the need in remembering,
the very word, remembering--
I write a poem about you.
©2010 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
We all differ. A blank page inspires me. Often it will give me a word, a thought. It didn’t need to this time around. You supplied the word—inspiration.
ReplyDeletethe blank page
taunts
yet beckons
intimidates
yet entices
awaiting fulfillment
creates a longing
impossible to subdue
words, images
seize their captive
inspiration
a gift of the mind
opened with delight
weapon of choice
wielded with undaunted determination
the blank page
confronted
conquered
2010 Judy Beck all rights reserved
Trees
ReplyDeleteTrees are God walking
down the streets
of this trying-to-be-boring
neighborhood.
Its houses smirk with normalcy,
unaware of the trees
making faces behind their backs
and even in their laps.
The trees are better than a ballet,
flinging ragged green skirts
about even when the wind's
not blowing.
The trees breathe, sometimes
dripping leaves,
and because of them
everything
from the dirt to the sky,
is all right.
--Kate Coombs, 2010, all rights reserved
DAYDRIFT
ReplyDeleteBy Steven Withrow
Idling in traffic,
afternoon rush,
a sorcerous school bus
modifies, flings yellow wings
to either side, flies
from the pavement
like a finch from a cat
through an overhang of oaks
and barrel-rolls once
on cloudless blue,
perfect parabola,
a girl’s grin in high window…
ALMOST OVERDUE LIBRARY BOOK
ReplyDeleteI gotta renew it
So I can get through it,
Then I’ll return it
Because I’ve earned it.
(c) Charles Waters 2010
Library books have been a saving grace for me for many years. Because I leave in kind of cramped quarters I cannot buy a lot of books so hello library books!!!! I keep them for a specific period of time, read them endlessly and return them ... for free. What a blessing.
ReplyDeleteSorry for the typo I meant "lived in kind of cramped corners....."
ReplyDeleteI was inspired to try and write my own stanza after reading Barbara Bosma Van Noord's poem, "Giving Them Away"
ReplyDeleteTo a child on her way to the pool,
I give my childhood:
flip flops,
the Chicago skyline,
jump ropes, and my Cabbage Patch Doll,
Keds,
the black convertible,
my blue Prom dress,
and the sound of the el lulling me to sleep
Inspire - literally, "to breathe in." That definition pleases me, because it suggests that inspiration can come in small packages. Here's my breath-size, bird-size poem:
ReplyDeleteBackyard Junco
Just a little junco in the apple tree
this morning was enough to make me fiddle
with my plans, make me wait & see
(just a little)
what the day would bring. I put the kettle
on, rethought my errands, made a cup of tea,
settled in by the window. The junco's whistle
(just the hint of one, no bigger than the middle
letter of September) – his busy ee-ee-ee—
was Greek to me. But I love an autumn riddle
(especially if it's little.)
Inspirelationship
ReplyDeleteInspiration hides under the bed
if I look for her.
She cowers as if my brain storms
dangerously, loudly,
flashing outside the window,
battering the glass.
But if I stop storming,
if I calm down and do the useful stuff,
like watering grass and shining through
blinds to paint warm stripes on cats,
then inspiration jumps out to shout “Boo!”
That’s our deal:
I pretend I don’t need her
and she pretends to surprise me.
And we both ignore
our co-dependence.
Because it works for us.
--Laura Purdie Salas, 2010, all rights reserved
Typos inspire me, and misspeeches...
ReplyDeleteI come in pieces
I stand in isles
I wait in lines
I leave in cramped quarters
~Heidi Mordhorst
ARR 2010
and Word Verification codes inspire me: today I am asked to VERSIST...
Inspiration Stands on Thin Deer Legs
ReplyDeleteSplit tracks in deep snow,
the cold silence aches.
In the lee of the night,
under the cedars,
the doe rests.
She inhales sharp still air,
not waiting for spring,
not waiting for sunrise,
she exhales a new
steamy moment now.
Daphne Kalmar