Inspiration ebbs and flows.
The flows are exhilarating
like the rush of cold and
powder that strikes
your cheeks during
a fast slalom
down a well groomed trail.
The ebbs are catastrophe.
Wild thoughts enter
and die
as if sinking
ever so slowly
in quicksand.
The more the thought struggles
and tries to get out
the deeper it sinks
into a smothering abyss.
Many thoughts have recently
been under the false pressure
of needing to keep writing.
To keep a presence.
All the wrong reasons.
Forced creative
is as harsh
as a cheese grater
on a knuckle.
It brings back
old memories of
client deadlines,
not the fun of writing
for love
or about love
or about the love
of the dark places
that haunt
the far reaches
of the mind.
Must stop the struggle and just allow the flow.
9 comments:
I know the feeling, Monkey man. It is probably best as you write, to go with the flow, otherwise it is as harsh as a 'grater on a knuckle' and that hurts.
Relax, the only dead line that matters is the DEAD line.
Very true. Writing should be compelling, but because we are compelled from within not without.
As for me when I write poems, the flow is either there or it isn't. I must 'work' at it, but ultimately it is about the flow or lack of it.
I loved your thoughts here. I can relate in my own way.
PG
so true...some days it comes easy. somedays its like trying to force a bowling ball through a needle.
This was good, and I relate to both the rush of the flow and the emptiness of the ebb. When my mind is running on empty, and I'm just dealing with the practical things of life, I go with that flow. I can have faith that soon enough the inspiration will strike if I stay mindful.
Wow, Monkey, this is exactly where I was the last few days. Yesterday I realized I had stopped writing for me and had slipped back to people pleasing.
Good post!
Yeah. You said it for all of us.
You can always change your name and open a chapter of some mexican fast food restaurant in a new city.
Oh, wait - you weren't asking for advice. Sorry.
No lectures here.
Love the photo.
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