Monthly Archives: August 2015
Reacting, reflecting on the world around me is part of the poetic urge. If I look at the hillside, burning with autumn hues, words form in my mind, then take shape on paper (or more likely, the screen). Seeing a full moon, anticipating an eclipse shrouded by rain clouds on an October night––what comes to mind? Perhaps hobgoblins, perhaps black cats, (who knows?) for a poem often shapes itself independent of the initial thought.
The crisp air of autumn,…..
When life becomes too confused or complicated for meditative time, it’s probably when I most need to pull back, and for a variety of reasons cannot. Then, come dry spells. For me that means I have lost contact with the cascade of thoughts or observations that usually catapult like a waterfall from sub-conscious to conscious. No matter that I carry about a small pad to jot down the occasional word or phrase that may spark a poem. The thought lies like…..
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