I am struggling with my voice. I admire all my poet friends, but I don't think I can write poems everyday. I have to mix it up. I also am trying to decide what college classes to take, more leaping. Hubby and son are home today, one with a cold, the other the flu. I thought maybe my blog would be better if I picked one path. I can't do it... I guess it is just going to be a creative blog, with whatever strikes me, my mood. Yes, like the toad in the garden waiting for his meal. Whatever strikes one's mood is what they decide to dine on.
Today I did a prompt at the Imaginary Garden, it is one of many exercises in Liz Lamoreux's book, "Inner Excavation". You answer these questions and then write a poem.
What color is your morning?
What are the shapes of your day?
What are the smells of your evening?
What are the textures of your weekend?
What are the sounds of this moment?
What nourishes you?
What do you see when you open your eyes and really look?
Her questions really make you think, don't they?!
A mist of pale white with fringes of blue
Sun’s brilliance dazzles than fades
sheer gray curtains are drawn and pulled
Diamonds attract the corners of my day
I hear a Chick-a-dee’s solo performance on my deck
My beagle is snoring as the fresh start of wonder brews
Words catch my eye
I cast a net of ideas and gather the shiny bits
Stitching my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams
Sentiments, photos of loved ones and nature’s gifts
Thread my muse
To create and chase light
Faded false starts leave
When I finish my Zen tea
Glimmers of stardust spread
I look again
With fresh eyed daisy view
Those who love me, love me not
Can see an Irish beauty
Not a dangling thread
*In Navy and Marine Corps parlance today, an Irish pennant is a loose thread on a uniform, for which you get gigged at inspection.