Do you think I can join those who have the amazing power of words? To weave in the imagination of your reader a tale, a tale that can thrill, a picture that is made a million times over in the minds of each reader. Touching soul to soul with another person, evoking emotion, inspiring, teaching, conjuring genies, and soaring. Soaring high, high up without the need of wings, nor high powered engines. Soaring to the planets, the vast expanses of the universe. Can I join this club? Is there a way to expand that little spark inside of me that writes, that creates thoughtful little tales. That part of me that has been repressed and abused because of the voice in my head telling me that it is usless to spend your time on this because there is no way that I could earn a living by this trade. I have always written from my soul, it is my soul on display when I paint with my words. Can I be so vulnerable to allow others to view me in my neacked display of writing? To view my imperfections my mispellings and gramatical follies (like this beautiful little folly on display right now). Crafting with words is like crafting in any other medium, but it is a bit more personal. Not everyone who looks at your writing on a shelf, or even what you send them. Not everyone will take the time to give your writing a chance. Your voice could be kept silent on the page as people pass it by, yet there is that chance. Where you could speak from the dead, where you can guide those you will never meet or might never know, "a voice from the dust."
Writers craft, what form can it become for me? Could it be anything more than my impressions of the world, something that I dreamed up? Have I stopped dreaming, I suppose I have. Writers craft, I need to read others works. Their words ignite the fire, their words turn the key. I feel locked up inside, until I read and read again, words from the writers craft.
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Mists
Surrounded by mist, the air is thick with the smell of water. The vapor is all around this foreign place, where only ghosts inhabit now. A top the mountain, a precipice only reached by a breathtaking ride up on a tram.
I experienced it only once, up Bridal Veil Falls, what a gloriously romantic name for a place. I suppose we were in a cloud, I was disillusioned when told that it was a cloud. I thought clouds should be soft and fluffy, not wet. We didn't get to eat in the restaurant, my dad could scarcely afford the fare to bring us up in the first place, let alone the cost of the pricey meals that they served.
I remember the descent, like a long slow elevator, down drop down, and at last we reached the bottom where we shakily stepped out. A force of nature, a massive mud slide, took out the tram and the structure that used to sit besides Bridal Veil, it broke my heart to hear of it.
It created an achy feeling in me to see it, the mud changed the falls and filled up the little lake below it as well. Now it is different, more like a large indentation, like a river. The falls are not as majestic as they used to be either, maybe the water will cut them out again, with time.
Other mists, the thick stench of chlorine at the gym, the smell of sweat, the smell of the tea tree oil that they used to scent their locker room and dry sauna. I used to try and "sweat out" all my toxins, so I would go to sit in their dry cedar sauna. It was indeed dry, the heat licking away the moisture of the wood, the floor, my skin.
It smelled odd, the remnant of the pleasant scent of cedar now only faintly smelled. The wood felt scratchy and uncomfortable as I sat, dressed as it were for swimming. My hair felt damp close to my head, but also dry and stringy as the heat dried it. The smell the chlorine, was detectable from the pool outside the door.
I decided to try and relieve some of the dryness in the sauna by squeezing the moisture from my hair onto the stones in their heating element. Ahh, there is steam but only temporarily. So I left that uncomfortable place and immediately I felt the moisture return to me in the outside air, only the slight chill was uncomfortable so...
I decided to try a different sauna and entered one filled with steam, warm steam, hot steam, steam also scented with tea tree oil, it is overpowering. There people sat in the dark recesses, sitting with their eye's closed, seeming to meditate and "take it all in." I couldn't stand this for long either, the steam burned my face and lungs. So I left, thinking I had failed somehow my mission to detoxify.
On another night, I stand out in the cold. I am waiting, thinking and waiting. The mist is thick, the fog surrounds everything, swirling in the orange light cast from the street lamp. I close my eyes and focus, the mist feels right, like my mood. Brrr. will my dad never come to pick me up? I feel like I am the only one left in the world, I lean against a sign in the parking lot because I am tiered of standing.
The silence is so profound, every sound is muffled by the mist. When my dad comes, the tires of his car crunch, a foreign sound on such a quiet night. I open the door and the light from the overhead lamp in the car seems too harsh and alien in this world. Finally relief from the cold, I warm my fingers by rubbing them and holding them near the vents at the front.
Mists in my bathroom, clinging to me, familiar and thick. I will never get my hair dry if it doesn’t go away, so I open the window a crack and open the door. Then I regret the loss of warmth as the goose bumps jump out on my arms. I wrap the towel tighter and rush to dress. Then as I dry my hair, subtle amounts of steam rise away from the heat. My hair is so thick I have to pull it out with the brush and dry it near the roots. Even when I think it is dry it often feels damp near my scalp. I avoid the mists now or else my hair will curl again.
(My mind on gluten) Mists in my mind, dulling, grasping away my concentration. I furrow my brow and think very hard at the task before me. Sorting out taxes, cleaning my desk, it feels better when it is done.
Clean and clean, to make the confusion go away, to drive out what I don't want to think about. Working to exhaustion, until the wee hours of the morning. Finally I can sleep, finally I have done enough, though I can think of more to do.
I lay down in my bed though my mind still races, now thinking of everything that I have suppressed. I can't sleep, I make some hot cocoa and press the warm mug against my forehead, easing the tension. Finally, the effects of the warmth and the cocoa and slowing down allow me to sleep. But my rest is not deep enough and I am tired the next day.
Mists in the little forest behind my house. I walk out slowly smelling the fresh morning, the dew hangs near the ground like a shroud. The spring grasses are glad of it and perk up somehow. The dew is thick on the grass and I wish to taste it, but it is elusive and I only catch one drop on my tongue. The sun warms the air, brighter and brighter. The dew lifts as a brides veil, up off the grass, the mists leave.
The mist is outside right now, I can smell the familiar scent of rain and now it is raining. The night is cold, I wonder if it will snow...
I experienced it only once, up Bridal Veil Falls, what a gloriously romantic name for a place. I suppose we were in a cloud, I was disillusioned when told that it was a cloud. I thought clouds should be soft and fluffy, not wet. We didn't get to eat in the restaurant, my dad could scarcely afford the fare to bring us up in the first place, let alone the cost of the pricey meals that they served.
I remember the descent, like a long slow elevator, down drop down, and at last we reached the bottom where we shakily stepped out. A force of nature, a massive mud slide, took out the tram and the structure that used to sit besides Bridal Veil, it broke my heart to hear of it.
It created an achy feeling in me to see it, the mud changed the falls and filled up the little lake below it as well. Now it is different, more like a large indentation, like a river. The falls are not as majestic as they used to be either, maybe the water will cut them out again, with time.
Other mists, the thick stench of chlorine at the gym, the smell of sweat, the smell of the tea tree oil that they used to scent their locker room and dry sauna. I used to try and "sweat out" all my toxins, so I would go to sit in their dry cedar sauna. It was indeed dry, the heat licking away the moisture of the wood, the floor, my skin.
It smelled odd, the remnant of the pleasant scent of cedar now only faintly smelled. The wood felt scratchy and uncomfortable as I sat, dressed as it were for swimming. My hair felt damp close to my head, but also dry and stringy as the heat dried it. The smell the chlorine, was detectable from the pool outside the door.
I decided to try and relieve some of the dryness in the sauna by squeezing the moisture from my hair onto the stones in their heating element. Ahh, there is steam but only temporarily. So I left that uncomfortable place and immediately I felt the moisture return to me in the outside air, only the slight chill was uncomfortable so...
I decided to try a different sauna and entered one filled with steam, warm steam, hot steam, steam also scented with tea tree oil, it is overpowering. There people sat in the dark recesses, sitting with their eye's closed, seeming to meditate and "take it all in." I couldn't stand this for long either, the steam burned my face and lungs. So I left, thinking I had failed somehow my mission to detoxify.
On another night, I stand out in the cold. I am waiting, thinking and waiting. The mist is thick, the fog surrounds everything, swirling in the orange light cast from the street lamp. I close my eyes and focus, the mist feels right, like my mood. Brrr. will my dad never come to pick me up? I feel like I am the only one left in the world, I lean against a sign in the parking lot because I am tiered of standing.
The silence is so profound, every sound is muffled by the mist. When my dad comes, the tires of his car crunch, a foreign sound on such a quiet night. I open the door and the light from the overhead lamp in the car seems too harsh and alien in this world. Finally relief from the cold, I warm my fingers by rubbing them and holding them near the vents at the front.
Mists in my bathroom, clinging to me, familiar and thick. I will never get my hair dry if it doesn’t go away, so I open the window a crack and open the door. Then I regret the loss of warmth as the goose bumps jump out on my arms. I wrap the towel tighter and rush to dress. Then as I dry my hair, subtle amounts of steam rise away from the heat. My hair is so thick I have to pull it out with the brush and dry it near the roots. Even when I think it is dry it often feels damp near my scalp. I avoid the mists now or else my hair will curl again.
(My mind on gluten) Mists in my mind, dulling, grasping away my concentration. I furrow my brow and think very hard at the task before me. Sorting out taxes, cleaning my desk, it feels better when it is done.
Clean and clean, to make the confusion go away, to drive out what I don't want to think about. Working to exhaustion, until the wee hours of the morning. Finally I can sleep, finally I have done enough, though I can think of more to do.
I lay down in my bed though my mind still races, now thinking of everything that I have suppressed. I can't sleep, I make some hot cocoa and press the warm mug against my forehead, easing the tension. Finally, the effects of the warmth and the cocoa and slowing down allow me to sleep. But my rest is not deep enough and I am tired the next day.
Mists in the little forest behind my house. I walk out slowly smelling the fresh morning, the dew hangs near the ground like a shroud. The spring grasses are glad of it and perk up somehow. The dew is thick on the grass and I wish to taste it, but it is elusive and I only catch one drop on my tongue. The sun warms the air, brighter and brighter. The dew lifts as a brides veil, up off the grass, the mists leave.
The mist is outside right now, I can smell the familiar scent of rain and now it is raining. The night is cold, I wonder if it will snow...
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Word Painting
Hi Everyone!!
I feel like trying out an experiment. I want to create a mental image of some things that I have seen, smelt, and may be some things I have heard.
First of all, the mountains near my house. I looked up at them the other day when it was a clear bright morning. The peaks stood out in stark contrast to each other and you could see back to the furthest reaches of the mountains. Two stood together like sentinals or like gates and one stood behind like a majestic giant. They were all covered in a verdant green yet you could still see places were the granite rock outcroppings were poking through.
Yesterday I glanced up, after a light rain, and saw lush clouds hugging the tops of the mountian. They looked like fluffy cotten strung out accross the peaks. The sky was a steel gray with even darker overtones, yet there seemed to be a lightness to the air like the dawning of a new day.
Hmm, smells
I love the smell of fall, musty, fresh, like a sigh of relief over the summer finally being over. The air has a crisp light feel to it. You can breathe deeper and more fully. You can appreciate ther contrast between the dark green grass and the reds and golds and still even greens of the leaves. The dark earth, loamy and fresh smelling is attractive to me. I took a walk down to the park and found a secluded spot were I put my feet up on the bench, an eagle project completed when I was about five, and I rested there. I was listening to the small stream that runs behind it and hoping that the dog who was running around in his lopping, happy manner would leave me to my solitude. I can still smell the fresh earth and grass beneath me, and the clean quality of the air.
Emotion - Surprise!!
I was peeking around in my garden, looking to see what had grown, when a sudden movement and the indication of brown fur made me jump back in surprise. Furitively I peeked back under the squash leaves and saw a little mole sniffing around and blinking, blind in the open air. So I ran and got a plastic jar that had contained bubble wands and was suitably sized for such a little guy and then I scooped him up in it and observed him. His little soft looking claws, his squat little body. His eyes were goopy, from disease, I know not. I showed him to all of the kids around, who cried out with delight over the little creature. However I didn't know what to do with him, so I had the kids set him somewhere until I could figure it out. Unhappily however he died an ignominous death and the kids gave him a suitable funeral in the back yard.
I will write some more word paintings later, right now I have to get going.
~Strawberry Girl
I feel like trying out an experiment. I want to create a mental image of some things that I have seen, smelt, and may be some things I have heard.
First of all, the mountains near my house. I looked up at them the other day when it was a clear bright morning. The peaks stood out in stark contrast to each other and you could see back to the furthest reaches of the mountains. Two stood together like sentinals or like gates and one stood behind like a majestic giant. They were all covered in a verdant green yet you could still see places were the granite rock outcroppings were poking through.
Yesterday I glanced up, after a light rain, and saw lush clouds hugging the tops of the mountian. They looked like fluffy cotten strung out accross the peaks. The sky was a steel gray with even darker overtones, yet there seemed to be a lightness to the air like the dawning of a new day.
Hmm, smells
I love the smell of fall, musty, fresh, like a sigh of relief over the summer finally being over. The air has a crisp light feel to it. You can breathe deeper and more fully. You can appreciate ther contrast between the dark green grass and the reds and golds and still even greens of the leaves. The dark earth, loamy and fresh smelling is attractive to me. I took a walk down to the park and found a secluded spot were I put my feet up on the bench, an eagle project completed when I was about five, and I rested there. I was listening to the small stream that runs behind it and hoping that the dog who was running around in his lopping, happy manner would leave me to my solitude. I can still smell the fresh earth and grass beneath me, and the clean quality of the air.
Emotion - Surprise!!
I was peeking around in my garden, looking to see what had grown, when a sudden movement and the indication of brown fur made me jump back in surprise. Furitively I peeked back under the squash leaves and saw a little mole sniffing around and blinking, blind in the open air. So I ran and got a plastic jar that had contained bubble wands and was suitably sized for such a little guy and then I scooped him up in it and observed him. His little soft looking claws, his squat little body. His eyes were goopy, from disease, I know not. I showed him to all of the kids around, who cried out with delight over the little creature. However I didn't know what to do with him, so I had the kids set him somewhere until I could figure it out. Unhappily however he died an ignominous death and the kids gave him a suitable funeral in the back yard.
I will write some more word paintings later, right now I have to get going.
~Strawberry Girl
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