Time (a poem)

(I wrote this as my submission to the Muses at The Tenth Daughter of Memory.)

By moon’s silver glow

we hold fast to those

golden threads we spin and cast

out to drag the past behind us.

Time moves on yet here we are

looking back at what follows behind,

caught in the siren song

of what could have been.

“Let go,” Time whispers and folds her hand

over ours as she smiles and we ache

with weariness yet stubbornly cling

to what we know.

“Let go,” she demands and we’re scared

of the insistant command but we listen

and the golden threads slip away into the dark

ocean of forgetfulness.

“Come,” she says and holds her arms

out to us and the moon dances its joy

on the black waves of the past when

we move forward under the cover of Time.

Saved by the bell pepper.

I haven’t felt like taking photographs for a long time. I did try, but always looked at the ones I took and went, “bleh!”, because that is what it was … just bleh! There was no sparkle, no ‘wow’ … nothing.

Who knows why this happened? Maybe my muse left the building, maybe I couldn’t see beauty anymore? Something was up, or missing or lost … until yesterday when I cut open a green bell pepper to put in my salad and there it was … beauty.

The seeds hadn’t come loose and scattered all over the inside of the pepper; instead it lay in perfect, velvety little pearl drops inside this luscious jade basket. I wanted to lick it, it looked that good.

I got my camera instead.

Seeking Beauty (by William Henry Davies)

Cold winds can never freeze, nor thunder sour
The cup of cheer that Beauty draws for me
Out of those Azure heavens and this green earth —
I drink and drink, and thirst the more I see…

Trust your broccoli.

Where does your inspiration come from?

Some people believe in Muses; beautiful-floaty-sparkly-external beings that have the power to gift you with inspiration and brilliance, or withdraw it if you piss them off and don’t give them enough attention.

Others believe that it comes from a place deep within yourself, your subconscious mind, which is like a treasure chest waiting to be explored.

Anne Lamott has written a brilliant book titled “Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life”, and in it she explains that her inspiration comes from listening to her intuition – or listening to the broccoli.

“There’s an old Mel Brooks routine….where the psychiatrist tells his patient, ‘Listen to your broccoli, and your broccoli will tell you how to eat it.’ …when you don’t know what to do, when you don’t know whether your character would do this or that, you get quiet and try to hear that still small voice inside. It will tell you what to do. The problem is that so many of us lost access to our broccoli when we were children. When we listened to our intuition when we were small and then told the grown-ups what we believed to be true, we were often either corrected, ridiculed, or punished. God forbid you should have your own opinions or perceptions – better to have head lice.”

Anne’s advice can be applied to every part of life, whether you are a writer or not. People need inspiration, whether you are packing your child’s lunchbox, having a brain-storming session, preparing a marketing proposal or planning a holiday.

When last have you gotten quiet and tried to hear that small voice inside?  When was the last time that you listened to your intuition and not to the clamoring, blathering and utterly ignorant blabbering in your own head?

I know that I haven’t been listening to that small voice for a while now and that it is time to get back to my broccoli.

My favourite quote from Anne’s book is this:

“Don’t look at your feet to see if you are doing it right. Just dance.”