Last week, we learned that you can write a poem about just about anything: So why not? This week, we receive encouragement to create our lives anew every day by going where we have to go...
The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
This beautiful villanelle by Theodor Roethke is one of my all-time favorites, and I hope it will become one of yours too. And I love how the synesthetic elements encourage us to hear what we see and dance what we write...
Action Inspiration. How about this, if you have a few moments to create: Try your hand at a villanelle.
It's curious, but the puzzle-like aspects of the structure bring out wildly beautiful and exotic imagery and surprising phrasing in poets of all ages... But - in my experience - perfection is the enemy of excellence with this form, meaning that you have to think of it as play and offer yourself to the possibilities of the process without expecting genius. If it happens, it happens. If not, let the creative moments you spend in the poem be the blessing itself.
Join us, won't you, in sharing a poem that inspires or incites you to look at the world in a new way: the very most basic element of creativity. Your own poem would be fabulous, but any thing of beauty or humor or insight or inspiration will enrich us all. And you must link back here, right? So that everyone can find all the poems of the day...
And you're warmly invited to join us at ActionReaders.com as well, where we're reading The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharpe. So far, it's a terrific read, chock full of practical, inspiring action ideas for taking your creativity to the next level, no matter what your life's work might be. You can find the book at most libraries and certainly at local booksellers and online stores. We'll start our discussions on June 19 and keep talking through July 9. And if you do take action to enhance your creativity while you're with us, you could receive a wonderful prize in addition to the natural life-enhancement of talking about a great book with fine people.
MFB, creatively,
L
2 comments:
Three ways of looking at God
1.
A claustrophobia of sand and stone: a walled heat.
The light bleaches and curves like a blade, isolates
the chirr of crickets, seed-pods detonating,
the valley waiting in a film of flame.
a bird finds an open channel in the air
and follows it without exertion to the branch.
2.
The sky is slashed like a sail. Night folds
over the shears, the dye, the docked tails.
We listen to the rumours of the valley:
goats' voices, gear-changes, the stirring of dogs.
In the green light, lambs with rouged cheeks
skitter from their first communion, calling for home.
3.
Lightening flexes: a man chalked on a board, reeling
exact, elementary, flawed; at each kick, birds flinch
and scatter from the white lawn.
The long trees bend to the grain of the gale,
streaming the dark valley like riverweed.
All night; thunder, torn leaves; a sheathing of wings.
Robin Robertson.
This one's gorgeous in its imagery, and bears multiple readings to attempt to unlock the three stanzas in light of the title. Must return later.
As always, Parrish, you offer stellar poems for us. Many thanks.
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