meat on bones,
sucked down,
devoured.
My sails fill up,
winds of dawning lights rustle through pages,
through windows to YES worlds,
rustle hope, rustle yes, rustle the poetic life in me;
and every greatness is in reach of my heart.
This poem is for you, writers. That opening line especially.
What feeds you?
Besides food, I mean. What feeds your soul? What enriches your sense of self? What stimulates your creativity?
There is something out there that will slice open your sense of wonder like a can-opener slices open those delicious cans of syrupy pineapples.
Mmmmm. Pineapples.
We writers like to be serious. We like to be aloof and wise and research-ey and tough. We like to sit in our stuffy studies with our whiskey, hem and haw about politics, and pretend we know waaaaay more than we do. We like to get fed up in the negative sense. We're fed up with society! With the government! With mainstream entertainment! And most of all we're fed up with those people! You know the ones.
But where's the wonder in that? Where's the joy? Where's the syrupy pineapple goodness?
Get yourself fed up in the wonderful sense. Let's call it the pineapple sense. That should keep you from getting too serious.
Find out what feeds your soul and DO NOT mock yourself for loving it! Not allowed.
Play. Go to the beach.
Stare at the sea. Climb a tree. Read poetry. Look at art. Make macaroni and inwardly comment how smooth and
delicious you find the cheese. Go to
your local sock store. Sock art can be way inspiring.
This doesn't have to be refined, people. It only has to awaken that childlike piece of you that enjoys doing handstands and popping bubbles and eating pineapples (see what I did there?). This piece of you has odd questions, strange ideas, and has not yet learned to be self-conscious. It creates constantly, innately, delightedly. Doesn't that sound nice?
Keep with your hard-working writerly self, of course, but get that wonder back. Your writing will be best if you combine the two.
Find your can opener. Get fed up. Get writing.