We’re having a little tw’elabration for the 100th poetwist writing prompt on twitter, and everyone’s invited whether you tweet or not.

You can either join in here at The Pedestrian Crossing or over on twitter - whatever gig you’re into. I really hope to see you, one place or the other.

The First 95 is a link to a pdf containing the first 95 word prompts I posted on twitter.

So, here’s the deal. Write a micropoem, or piece of microprose using as many of the first 95 words as you can within the 140 character limit.

If you’re tweeting, you’re used to the 140 character gig, and for those of you blogging you can count characters (140 max including spaces & punctuation), or you can write up to 20 words - which won’t be exactly the same, but close enough.

Tweeple, I’ll see you on twitter.

Bloggers, if you would post your microwrites in the comments here I’ll check back in a few days so I can reply to everyone who writes

I’m looking forward to reading everyone’s wonderful creations!!

tags: 100th prompt, 140, micropoetry, poetry, poetwist, twitter

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Funny, the things you miss.

Things that don’t even seem to be in one’s recall, but somewhere in the archives of our feelings they sit there—waiting for us to notice.

I was cleaning out a storage space in my studio last week and happened upon a couple of framed prints. They were two of my first fully digital creations, and the first two pieces I had tried my hand at framing. In the years since, different prints of both pieces have been framed more professionally (again by me, after getting some framing education), in a style suitable for gallery showing.

The show pieces were well received and those that didn’t sell came home and adorned my walls. They looked fine and I didn’t think much more about it. In the ensuing years, some more of the pieces were sold, one was loaned and the walls developed bare spaces that I noticed now and again. But I was busy.

So, when I found those aging, less than perfect, dusty examples of my work I was delighted. I sure wasn’t too busy to dust them off and go park them on the naked picture hooks still punctuating my balding walls.

It was nice to see them out in the light again, but that wasn’t what really stuck me. It was the sound that pulled me up short and resonated a warm chord in my heart. I had completely forgotten how they sound.

The ‘gallery’ style framings I had done were glazed with standard window glass. But in my first framings, I had used a type of acrylic glazing.

And acrylic glazing flexes a lot more than glass as the environment around it changes. And when it flexes, it can make a wonderful light percussive sound, a bit similar to the sound a clock pendulum makes.

The sound is not metered of course, but it is not really random either. As the day warms and cools, sunlight filters in and moves on, or the rain falls saturating the air the acrylic glazing responds with a tick here and a tock there.

The sounds of these two images are soothing, reassuring, and delightful to me. The sounds remind me of the earliest days of my career move to full time art & writing, they remind me of furniture and pets that used to be, and they make me smile as I recall trying to figure out where those sounds were coming from when I first hung the pieces.

Mostly though, the sound of each print reminds to pay attention.

Reminds me that surprising things can come from very unexpected sources, and the sounds remind me of my history—which somehow fills me with a sense of wonder and joy about my today. I can’t explain that last bit, but I am endlessly grateful for the gift.

Today is the only today that I get and anything that helps me pay attention to it is nothing short of manna from heaven.

~

May you have a wonderful today - each and every day.

~

tags: living in the moment, memoir, nostalgia, perspective

7 Comments »       (what is this?)

~

a stone rolled down a steep embankment. it was the size of a small child’s fist, and was the color of ruddy-brown bricks with gently sparkling patches of ebony here and there over its surface. on top of the embankment all the stones looked pretty much this way.

the small stone landed in the ditch below the embankment unharmed. the stone looked around and saw that all the stones here in the ditch were colored yellow caramel-brown. and there were not so many stones here as above. the stone tried to say hello to one of the stones nearest but the odd colored ditch stone did not answer.

after a couple of days the embankment stone felt lonely. and in its want of companionship it came up with an idea. the embankment stone surmised that no one was speaking to it because it looked so different. so the stone rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled so it was covered with the dirt from the ditch. and this worked just as planned. covered in dirt, the embankment stone looked quite a bit like all the other stones in the ditch.

soon after this, one of the ditch stones tumbled by. the ditch stone asked the embankment stone if it had noticed what had happened to the beautiful newcomer with the shiny black spots. the embankment stone delightedly replied ‘oh yes, I am that stone. I rolled down from above.’ and the ditch stone laughed and laughed saying ‘silly, you are just the same as us all.’

the ditch stone rolled away tittering. the embankment stone could hear the sniggering from the other ditch stones as the story of their conversation was told and retold. the embankment stone felt even more lonely then. and try as it might no matter how it rolled or scooted, the dirt covering it stayed firmly in place. it had done a great job with its camouflage.

so many lonely days passed that the embankment stone lost count. all the ditch stones made a wide path clear of it in their rolling about the ditch. sometimes the stone heard whispers of ‘crazy’ and ‘dangerous’ as the rough shaped ditch stones went by at a distance. for a while the stone tried to say hello when new stones came near. but no one ever answered and at last it gave that up too.

the sun was high and hot for most of the time and the pale-brown dirt now covering the embankment stone felt permanently baked on. and sometimes, for just a moment, the stone forgot what it really was underneath.

and then dark clouds came. and the rain fell so hard the stone could not see if it was night or if it was day. and when the sun finally broke through the clouds, the embankment stone was washed clean and gleaming.

and in its surprised happiness, the stone began to call out. the stone called to the ditch stones. asked them to look and see what had happened. to look and see that it had been telling the truth all along.

but only quiet returned the calls of the stone. and so the stone took its view away from itself and looked in every direction—finding there was no stone anywhere in sight. the rain that had so splendidly washed the stone clean, brought it home to itself, had washed the ditch stones entirely away.

~

inspired in part by the SES prompt: falling slowly

tags: appreciation, autonomy, belonging, integrity, self image

7 Comments »       (what is this?)

comments & replies

My sincere thanks to everyone who gave me input on the questions in the previous post. Your kind advice and support are very much appreciated, and I’ve left replies to all of your wonderful comments in the previous thread.

Going forward, I’ll be doing a lot less reply writing. I am hoping for the day when things are less hectic and I can re-evaluate that decision, but for now this is how it needs to be. Be assured, it is a time management necessity rather than a lack of desire or appreciation.

I will, as always, be reading every comment. I always love what you have to say.

snail mail address change

my snail mail address has changed - I’ve exchanged physical mail with some of you - so if you would, please check the contact page for the new address and update your records -

Thanks again & sending best energy!

tags: comments, snail mail address

2 Comments »       (what is this?)

Today I’d like to presume upon your kindness to posit a question
amidst my ramblings.

First - a bit of preamble:

I am in the process of doing some reorganization
in my work and personal life
in an effort to better manage my time, get my work
done, and get enough sleep, exercise, etc., to be healthy.

I am currently blessed by a large abundance of work projects,
along with the creative energy to fuel them
which is of course indescribably wonderful,
and my non-work life is no less abundant,
perhaps even more so.

And so I began making stepwise adjustments to my time
commitments a couple of months ago, and
I’m continuing to do so.

I’ve been thinking about the blog a great deal. I really
like blogging, it has fueled an unexpected expansion
in my work, and I’ve met this wonderful community
(you all) that I get to interact with; I am strongly motivated
to try and find a way to keep doing it.

So this is where is where you and my questions come in.

How do you all feel about getting replies to your wonderful comments?

Would you stop commenting if I were to reply to your comments
only occasionally, or perhaps not at all?

I always read and will continue to always read every comment on the blog.
I love them. It is so wonderful to hear what you all think,
and I appreciate your words here so very much.

But, if I stop doing replies to comments it will put just a bit
more time into my week, and that is a precious commodity for me,
at least right now.

And I realize that not doing replies isn’t going to save me
hours & hours every week. It will be a small get.

But my experience is that it really is the small changes
that often add up to the biggest results in my life.

Making changes (for me) isn’t usually about gargantuan
journeys (but of course, I’ve been there too)
rather, change seems to come from small increments that
adjust the arc of my path by just
a degree or two
and pretty soon, that tiny increment has me
traveling in a whole new sphere.

So, I’m thinking to make this ‘no comment reply’ change to
my bloggy habits. And if you have a moment or two
to let me know what you think about that
your time and words would be most appreciated.

tags: comments, question, replies, time manaagement, work life balance

12 Comments »       (what is this?)

Sometimes, I do not want to write what I am supposed to be writing. Not for lack of inspiration, or passion, or even words.

I should be doing the final edits on a stack of mostly done poems. There are about 40 in the stack currently, and new poems go into the queue every week, so I really do need to get caught up. Which is what I really should be doing right now. But obviously, I’m not.

For the record, I really enjoy the revision & editing process, hair-pulling though it can be.

I love to see a poem find its full expression. I love to take the raw writing and craft it into a smooth shape, glaze it just so. I love those inevitable moments when the writing circumvents me entirely and at last draws from my keyboard what it was trying to say all along—I love the reminder that sometimes, I just need to get out of the way and let it happen.

But, there are times (like now) that I don’t want to craft anything. I just want to write about a moment.

The return of the barn swallows daubing new mud on the winter wear of their nests, the rise of the creek with its fast waters and river otter undulating along the bank, the delight of reading books of poems and letters by E. Bishop over breakfast.

My tremendous joy at having breakfast and doing this reading cat-like in my favorite chair, moved strategically into the sun in front of the window where I can glance up now and then to watch the creek flow by. How the warm sun somehow fits perfectly with the warmth I’m finding in Bishop’s poems and letters.

These are incredible things. Moments that reveal the perfection of all things. I am endlessly, deeply, grateful for them. And I just wanted to acknowledge the gift that they are, write a little bit, and share them with you.

tags: appreciation, writing

6 Comments »       (what is this?)