Sunday, February 15, 2009

The Blank Blackboard of Creativity

I was suffering a bout of writers block, a sort of lapse in creativity.

So I’d, diverted my attentions away from blogging for the time being. I had a few other projects that needed some attention.

Work a little while on some of my photography stuff, tried to clean up my wood shop and working a little bit on the garden shed, then off to sorting the stain glass and mosaics for future projects.

Plus getting ready to get our business up and going in the next couple of months by spring…

But this one little story kept creeping in my mind; it is about the looking for the creative side of one-self. Being lost in a fantasy world of enriched inspirations while trying to put something artful together, in a world others had gotten lost…

All I had to do was to pay attentions to the subtle clues around everywhere and form guidance or a map if you will, back to one’s creative side, a spirit…

Boy, it sure sounded good in my head though. Now that it is written out, well, I suppose I will be editing it a few times here and there.

from deviantart...

Search for the Lost Poem

There’s a time
When the winds are still
A forest path
That leads to nowhere

Lost for words
Hearing a fainted flute
Brings you in further

A path by the pond
There’s a toad laughing
Birds in the trees keep singing

All that is gold
Can fool you
It just is
What it is

Down the trail there’s a stone
With strange markings
Not knowing what they say

Next to a dam
A wise beaver points
The other way
You won’t find it here
What you came for

Whispering through the leaves
Are the voices of those
Who wandered

Their unwritten poems
Songs never sung
Artist left aimless

Leaving the woods
Throwing your best
To the breeze
Hoping not to feel so vulnerable
Or too harshly criticized

Finding all that
Appears to be gold
Will be fooled

Sitting by an old oak
Taking in the surroundings
The sounds
Swept up
In the currents of air

Two dragonflies
Circles the oak

Following them
As they wait for you
To catch up

Taking you closer
To the edge of the forest
Out into the meadow
To where you started

Words fall from the sky
Scattered to the ground

Standing back
Phrases start to emerge
Stanzas form
To the writings of self-style
And the awareness of
Found discoveries


Shadow said...

mmm, did that comment go through, i don't know...

Shadow said...

nope, so here it is again...

i feel and have felt your beautiful words before, they make perfect sense.

Noelle said...

George, this is so beautiful....I felt like I was walking along experiencing your writing. How perfect, no need to edit! Glad to see you back!

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

George, this sings to the heart of all of us who struggle to find the words for our thoughts. How is it that we want to express what we see, hear, think and feel? I wander aimlessly in that same woods - hoping to see the words fall and form before me. Thank you for a wonderful poem. You have inpsired me this morning. Good to have you back! :)

George said...

Thanks Shadow, Sometimes I like taking the reader away from reality, out there in fantasy land on everyday matters for a brief escape.

I have to hold back for the fear of going over the top and then it would only make sense to me.

So your response is encouraging...

George said...

Noelle, I'm glad you'd liked it... You don't think I need to mess with it any?

I do like my escapisms though, in writing that's what makes them fun...

George said...

K.. Blocks, I usually don't have them to often, but when I do it kind of saddens me, so that inspires me to write about it.

I think its cool that the forest is one of my places of inspirations, but one can find them self lost in an aimless void till finding a way back to their familiar clearing...

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Noelle said...

No, George - leave perfection alone.

Helen's Angel said...

I know nothing about peotry so I can hardly comment, but I saw your pic of Stonehenge at the top of your blog. I used to live just half a mile from this place. I was going through a truly terrible time in my life but despite that I loved living there. There was a lot of physical space which was at a counterpoint to my lack of mental space at the the time. I think as well that was the point at which I realsied that I was a country girl.

Anonymous said...

George, that was beautiful! I have walked in those same woods, and in the face of drought, found fragrant rain in the meadow too! Thank you for reminding me about the gold!

Crafty Green Poet said...

I recognise the journey, I've never found the wise beaver though, I'll need to wait until they're re-introduced to Scotland i guess..

George said...

G709, it brought me to a phrase I'd always like, (all that glitters is not gold.)

And you are welcome, drop by again sometime...

George said...

Thanks, Green Crafty Poet. I need to get back to your place again soon.

Brosreview said...

Reading your creative posts / poems makes me escape from this world. I recall running into the woods whenever I would be furious at anybody in my grand mum's house. So, I can relate quite well to this poem. Lovely!!! Keep them coming!!!

PS: I am following your blog from now on. I hope you shall too.

George said...

I will also...