Saturday, June 8, 2013

Looking Back/Looking Forward

Since the spring semester ended, I have been writing and writing and writing. I have never experienced this  full engagement before, not like this. It's as if I'm in flight.  As an artist, I have always pursued beauty. I have lived in an idyllic place for over 25 years and I never tire of it. Inside my farmhouse, I can look out any window and write what I see, which is constantly changing.  It's a remarkable gallery.  When I'm outside, it's without the window's distance.  I'm in the action that is both universal and personal.  I'm stunned by the natural world.  I keep trying to get it right.  Since the beginning of the planting season, I've been trying to decompress.  To get rid of the toxins that assault me on a daily basis.  The spring semester is never easy.  It's a tangle of old stuff and new stuff, trying to break through.   Every year for what seems to be an eternity, I have been in this perennial garden of misgivings.  But, this year, this year something happened. 

The following came as an email and I thought I  would pass it on.   

Cyclamens and Swords Publishing June 2013 Newsletter
For our current issue, please see

Reminder - our August 2013 edition will be a themed issue for poetry – theme - BIRDS
§        Awaiting your poetry submissions on BIRDS
§        Short stories on ANY SUBJECT
§        Our Artwork section in April will include an ARTISTIC
PHOTOGRAPHY section. Please submit up to 6 photographs

What about that chapbook you’ve been thinking of publishing?

Johnmichael Simon
Chief Editor

Helen Bar-Lev
Senior Editor
Helen and Johnmichael

Writing Prompt from Figments:

The First Thing

Write out a person's day in terms of the first things he or she does. An example is provided below:

The first thing she did each day was stretch her toes over the edge of her mattress. 
The first thing she saw was her reflection in the pink vanity she'd gotten when her career aspiration was "princess."
The first thing she ate each morning was an English muffin, pooled with melted butter.
The first thing she put on was her silver locket.

My thoughts about this prompt:

This could be an extended metaphor poem on your first thing's  first line, or it could be the dream of first things, or it could be 1-10 things in a day or night, or  it's the ground hog day thing that repeats until you get it right.

See what happens.   Hopefully, something (ha!).

No comments:

Post a Comment