Friday, October 15, 2010

The Find

The Cave

Where does your writing come from? Where does mine come from? This is an especially important question when we're feeling a sense of writer's block.

For a while I've felt I couldn't find poems anymore. So last night I sat down and thought about where I've literally been and what I've been doing. I let myself feel certain sadnesses I haven't been willing to embrace. And this was when I finally found my poems. I wrote and wrote last night. Here's just one, appropriately called "The Find."

The Find

To me, it is just
a cave— a bouldered space
held dark against this mountain.
To you, it opens
dreams of dragons, pink and green
as the dragon-scale shoes
I bought for you just yesterday,
knowing it would be too soon before
you came upon this place, only to find it had become
just a cave... an empty bouldered space.

At the Cave photo, by L.L. Barkat.

Because this photo tells a story, in my mind, I'm also offering it for Three From Here and There's Storytelling prompt...

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Blogger Maureen said...

I'm so glad you "found" again your wonderful voice.

This is tender and moving.

11:56 AM  
Blogger Michelle DeRusha said...

I'm glad you find your poetic voice again -- this one is a beauty. My favorite: "Dragon dreams of pink and green."

I know I saw those dragon scale shoes somewhere...on one of your other blogs, perhaps?

11:56 AM  
Blogger Megan Willome said...

After writing so much poetry during my mom's illness, I found myself unable to write after she died, until I joined an informal poetry group. I'm slowly finding that place you talk about. In some ways, my poetry is the same, and yet, it's also different. I'm different.

1:08 PM  
Blogger Linda said...

You found your voice again - and this poem is wonderful.
I find I must have quiet to even begin to find my voice. It is a something deep inside that is easily drowned out by the noise around me.
Lots of other things too...but that is essential.

2:57 PM  
Blogger sarah said...

I'm so glad for you. This is a beautiful poem. I don't know that you can actually write a bad one!

My writing is given to me. I just take dictation.

3:54 PM  
Blogger Real Live Preacher said...

Where writing comes from is very mysterious. I'm on the same quest myself.

5:05 PM  
Anonymous Louise Jennings said...

My poetry comes in fits and starts. There are seasons when it flows and times when I must work hard to birth it. When it comes easy the joy is overwhelming; when it comes with sweat the satisfaction is great.
Your cave image will stay with me, I think, and I want to track down my cave with a greater dedication to discover the dragons which hide there...

1:40 PM  
Blogger Jessaca said...

Hello there,
I see that you posted something over at 3 from here and there and wanted to stop by and say oh wait I'm typing so I will type "HI". Lovely writing you have posted and what a great photo to go along with it.
Have a great weekend

4:12 PM  
Blogger S. Etole said...

that last line ... that sticks

7:24 PM  
Anonymous Sandra Heska King said...

Let's move those boulders and go find some adventures.

9:56 PM  
Anonymous Bradley J. Moore said...

I really get this one - To you, the cave is just a cave, but to the young heart it is full of dreams and wild imagination. There is a recognition here of the emptiness of -- a loss of dreaming? I don't know if that is what you meant, but that is what I got.

6:03 AM  
Blogger Amy said...

wow, that contrast from very, very bright to very, very dark is striking. your words, i believe, will linger long...quite beautiful paired with your photo offering. glad to have stopped by.

10:23 AM  
Blogger Kelly Sauer said...

I am so glad you linked with Three!

I am thinking of you often these days - "how could she be struggling with her poetry?" - and you keep inspiring me as you continue to try to write. I've been journaling poems lately, trying my hand again at finding my rhythms and my songs. You give me courage to keep on. Poems, I have always believed, are good writing for the in-between times...

6:17 AM  
Blogger Joelle said...

Magic. You still know it, L.L. But I too feel the poignant loss of mystery that comes from being ... older, maybe, tired, experienced in disappointment. Being sure of less--a sense that seems to grow with age--doesn't always equate to awe. But I'm hoping that fairytales will return to me some day, alive and breathing as hot-dragon breath on my neck.

9:26 PM  

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