On writing
Here’s a struggler for the muse,
looking for the rush of insight,
the thrust and turn of thought,
meme blades seeking out the real,
the true,
the blood to spill onto a page.
Here’s a wonderer,
sitting at a keyboard,
a sheaf of paper,
the edge of some class notebook,
fingers poised,
pencil raised,
ready for the flood to come.
Here’s a vandal,
sneaking through classics,
crawling through anthologies,
randomly reading the first lines of novels,
dragging his sponge across the page,
seeking unspent thoughts for his own.
Here’s a dreamer on the hillside,
watching clouds and stars and dancing shadows,
treating thoughts like seeds,
and words as leaves,
begging nature for its freshest breath.
Here’s a child,
rhyming madly, playing stories, making, laughing,
loving the sound of her voice,
the rhythm of nonsense,
the taste of surprise.
Here’s a writer…
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Charles,
On JesusCreed, you said, “I think the anabaptists were more of a one body for all roles than what I’m trying to articulate”
What exactly do you mean by “a one body for all roles”? Thanks for the clarification!
Benjamin Bush Jr
Charles, you’ve got a wildly productive imagination. This piece makes me want to ditch my term paper, sit down in some leafy hollow with a bunch of ancient tomes, and start writing a 600 page novel. Creativity is so much better than “summarizing!” Great work.
Ariel,
Hey, I’m glad this is inspiring to someone. This was written during a bout of writer’s block as an attempt on my part to game the system. Ah ha, I said, I’ll write about writing, I’ll inspire myself by contemplating inspiration. Take that writer’s block.
25 June 2007
Faith like a dream.
Steadfast like a rock among the rapids.
Quickly before the moment has passed
Look into the water and see the gathering malestrom in the deep.
Faith like a million droplets in a summer storm.
Take delight in the rain.
Move and have your being in it.
“Be still and know that I am God.”