Leafing through journals tonight to find something to put here…in this empty space I aim to fill each week.  I feel too dull to find fresh words, a concept behind them. I come across this from another January…………………

From a Story Circle conference, from Texas poet Lianne Mercer: a poem is a picture in your mind of a moment in your mind. Metaphor is implicit rather than explicit. Trust the process; your mind will hand you what you need. Be present at the page………………….

And from another entry, just a page futher, what I call scribbles—hurried writing to a prompt or because I see something I know I ought to put in words, and if I’m lucky, I do….

Clutter. Unraked leaves, old boards from Hurricane Rita’s threat…the back yard  a mess…overgrown, brown with fallen leaves. I go to my bench in the morning sun, sun filtered by the camphor tree that dominates the yard, making all under its great spreading limbs feeble and brown from lack of light and water. I’m moody, fractured inside, feeling without grace. And then I see one sulfur yellow daffodil’s trumpet thrusting out…the only one of its mates daring to bloom, a grace note, a horn blast, a call to me from the great unknown…here I am, always, pilgrim……….

4 responses to “scribbles

  1. Go Karleen…Go. Just knowing you inspires me. Love, Diana

  2. K:
    January is a type of never-never land. Caught between two seasons, more winter than any other, but with teases of slight warmth and sunshine. Every geographic area suffers a type of “writer’s block” where nature can dominate our moods/thoughts/actions. Right now I long for springs’ rebirth and greening of the topography. Creativity is in limbo. I share your mood and search for something to fulfill my need. I fear that filling is weeks away.
    Miss you.

  3. Artist’s Way Julia Cameron refers to a fallow time in creativity, to letting things compost…..that’s not an easy thing for me to do…..but thanks for reminding me….Karleen

  4. Words flow in my brain when I’m driving or showering; in front of the computer they fall like the leaves in your back yard–over and done with it all. Trying to write now for my blog–responding to a tape from the Jung center on untold stories. You are an inspiration to keep struggling.

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