Yes I'm having a poetry week- well early in the morning after my walk, my Bible study, I write a poem- it might take a few word exercises to really push that wonderful creative synapses to occur, but it does. I am left with with a poem suitable for a Lit magazine or a children's poem.
I have a multitude of text books to dip into- one that is working at the moment is jotting down snatches of what is happening in your inner life and then observe the outer life. Mesh some lines, thoughts together and the poem will flow.
I am so happy to have written- just for me, it makes the day sure to sparkle and by the end of the week- I should have seven new poems.
I saw a black glove as if
just unhanded, one finger pointing
others elegantly knuckled (but dew-kissed)
on side of bitumen road...
Monday, 20 April 2009
On a hot summer's day, here is the line up to view The Golden Age of Couture Paris & London 1947-57, staged at the Bendigo Art Gallery. An art gallery always has such incredible vibes for me to just sit and write. I loved the ooze of style, the flamboyant sketches of the designers and the minute sewing of embellishments by the dress makers. Of course one would need a gala occasion and a gala figure to wear such garments, but I heard many a spectator, murmuring, wish fashion could be like this again.
It can: in a poem, a story, a memory.