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KathyS
Posts: 6,898
Registered: ‎10-19-2006

Garden Musings: In Your Own Words

This thread was taken from Becke's Garden Club Board.  TiggerBear  kindly made the suggestion that we should have a thread such as this one, here in the Kingdom. So I asked Becke if this thread could be saved and moved here, in the memory of her board, as her Garden club was removed from the boards this week.  Becke and Paul made the effort to get this to us.  Thank you so much!

 

Becke had started this thread to give all of us garden lovers a chance to voice our own feelings about not just gardens, but all things that live in this world of nature, itself.  Over the years, a lot of wonderful words, by a lot of wonderful people, gave a voice to Becke's Garden Cub. I felt a little piece of that garden belonged here in the Kingdom to live on, and to continue to be tended to with love.  

 

This is for everyone.  Read and contribute. And, Enjoy!

 

QM Kathy

 

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Garden Musings: The Butterfly Slept

The Butterfly Slept

 

 

I walk through the gardens this week

I see a little butterfly

content in her asleep

 

I wandered away and let it be

I will see much more

than the eye can see

 

Upon the snow capped leaves

I saw a melting drop

falling down upon my sleeve

 

It flowed to the ground

where I see the butterfly go

light without a sound

 

She drank in the dew

then waving her wings

up she flew

 

She comes to me and sings

on my sleeve she returns

 closing her wings

 

She sleeps and I reflect

Asleep, asleep, as night dawns her shade

where the ground is warm, and our bed is made

The butterfly slept

 

 

K.S.

 

 

 

 

 

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becke_davis
Posts: 35,755
Registered: ‎10-19-2006

Re: Garden Musings: The Butterfly Slept

[ Edited ]

Beautiful, Kathy!

 

 

 

 

Queen Bee Pollenasia,  Gnominal Ruler of the Gnomes, and The Baroness Barnesandnobilia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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KathyS
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In Your Own Words - Rest - Rejuvenating Spirit

I feel the need to come into the garden this morning.  Finding a cool, empty space, lying down, stretching the aches and pains in my head and limbs.  I took a pain pill last night, and it's left me tired.  I need to rest, but my mind won't allow it.

 

Gardens are restful.  My visions keep me from it.

 

I slowly walk up the stairs, holding tightly to the railing, as to not fall down.  My legs are leaden, boots of solid steel.  I lift each as though my life depends upon it.  I'm  angry tonight, frustrated, whether at myself, or the other, who creeps into my life, and kills it, as if I didn't exist.  One foot follows the other, until I reach the door to my room.  I turn the handle, knowing the solitude will bring me both relief, and torment.  I enter, but do not turn on the light.  Darkness, the enemy lurks within.

 

My anger overcomes me.  I scream, knowing I cannot be heard.  The screams are only within myself.  aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh, I yell and run to the far wall of my room, landing my head soundly against it.  Frustration and anger increase.  I do not fall.  I run back to the other side of the room. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!  Louder this time, I crash into the wall with my forehead.  Blood drips into my eyes, and down the side of my nose, onto my cheeks, and into my mouth.  I'm blinded for a moment.  I run to the another wall, again my body makes contact.  This time I fall to the ground.  My hand rubs the blood, mixed with tears, out of my eyes, nose and mouth, these eyes, which are now swollen shut.  I hurt.  The pain in there, and nothing external will remove it.

 

I come into the garden today, and rest my head. 

Quietly as I lay, I can just hear the breeze

swishing across the surface of the grasses

and through the trees

I close my eyes

and let the coolness wash over me

compressing lies

The gentle breeze

The gentle sounds 

The turmoil gradually leaves

my pores expand and pound

a vacuum opens with a flair

sucking in rejuvenating air 

I can breath, expells my skin 

I can open up and breath once again

I hear the birds in the trees

I hear the buzz of the bees

I know life is long

I know life is a song

 

 

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KathyS
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Musings: In Your Own Words - An April love poem?

[ Edited ]

April!  What is it about April that makes me think of love!  Then, it dawned on me....the song, April Love...it's an oldy.  Every April I would drag that piece of music out, and play it, and sing it....and muse over it.  Well, I haven't dragged it out, yet....then something else dawned on me...I was married in April!  And for the life of me, I can't remember how long I'd been married, or when the exact date is I got married....it could have been today!  I forgot it the day my divorce was final.  :smileysurprised:  :smileytongue:

 

This is leading up to this poem I wrote this afternoon.  All afternoon, I mulled, and fumed, and gritted my teeth over this stupid poem...and when I do that....it  feels strange.  It made me frustrated, and made me think about a marriage that didn't work.   And when I was through playing with it....I read it through...all the way, and realized that's what can happen in relationships ...whether a marriage, or just in love, itself. As a second part took over my mind, I slipped into a different stanza variation.  That's how my brain works....it slips a cog every now and again.  I don't know why that happens.  You can read this as two poems, or one.

 

An April Love Poem?

 

Exasperated moments!

sun shadowing the leaves

enters through the window

the window

ah, the window

the blossoms on the trees!

 

Love is in the air

who can get it right?

throwing caution to the wind

the wind

ah, the wind

across the seamless night

 

Smell the grasses growing

harvest green and gold

now to make an ant hill

an ant hill

ah, an ant hill

into a surly mole

 

Plummets sincere desire

into depth's terrain

masticating air

the air

ah, the air

blows April's refrain

 

Love, neat, oh so neat

together two strings

crossing frayed tips

frayed tips

ah, frayed tips

what plucks these to sing?

 

 

 

April's love brings showers

come into our space

breaking ties and

tying knots

when I look at your face

 

Ah, night, ah day

a heavy sigh I expel

how can I love?

how can I tell?

 

What days bring joy?

what night is ours?

where am I going

changing minutes to hours?

 

These strings pull tight

together again

but where is my heart

Oh where, or when?

 

April Love, where are you?

I asked you to stay

I held your hand

you slipped away

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_mOonSeeKer_
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Poem: AND THEN SHE WAS GONE

Hello, here's a poem I wrote last month. I have posted this in Writing Room but I thought you would like to see this. PLease tell me what you think. Thank you!

 

 

AND THEN SHE WAS GONE

 

She died when I was six

But I didn't realize her death.

I thought she was just sleeping 

And that she'd wake up in the morning.

 

But she never did.

She just continued lying there,

Looking so cold, empty...gone.

Aye, that was it - GONE.

My six-year-old mind 

Had finally comprehended that.

 

She would never carry me

In her arms again.

She would never comfort me

When I was afraid.

 

She had left me 

And she would never come back.

Was that life held for me?

To have someone I love die easily?

 

She was my mother

And so much I love her.

She once had a life 

And then she was gone.

 

 

Unpublished Works of Arvie Garcia

Copyright © 2010

http://whisperinglostwords.blogspot.com
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KathyS
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Re: Poem: AND THEN SHE WAS GONE

[ Edited ]

Arvie,

 

Thank you for sharing this poem with us.  It was beautiful.  It touched me very much.  I felt this child's loss. 

 

If you wish,  please feel free to share your thoughts about what you write,  at any time.

 

Kathy

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_mOonSeeKer_
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Re: Poem: AND THEN SHE WAS GONE

thank you very much Kathy! I'm glad you liked my poem. I guess i might as well tell you. The poem is true. I was talking about my mother.
http://whisperinglostwords.blogspot.com
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largerthanlife
Posts: 103
Registered: ‎08-17-2007

Re: Gardening: In Your Own Words

I am a little wary of letting my poetry be seen by others since, well, poetry is more in the realm of my sister and not myself.  But however, I really like this poem, even though it is not one that i really want my family to see.  It has not a whit to do with gardens but i thought i would share anyway.

 

 

Dead and Buried

 

Sitting across from me is him,

This monster that haunts my past

I should feel something, but I don’t

Not even hate

He is not worth hate, or sorrow, or pity

 

I stopped caring how he wrecked my life

Letting the past go, to be swept away on the wind

He is nothing now

Just a stranger I sometimes call family

 

It took years to forgive him

A decade of prayer and tears

I did it because I had to

I refused to let him steal another precious moment

 

He has ceased to be the source of my nightmares

The cause of my weeping

And the root of the antipathy toward my life

 

My Monster Man is now securely wrapped in a box

Sealed with cement, and buried under eighteen feet of dirt

 

And even though the man who held my monster

Still walks the earth, free to laugh and dance

My Monster can no longer hurt me

He’s dead, and I was the one wielding the ax

"Look, would it save you a lot of time if I just gave up and went mad now?"
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KathyS
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Registered: ‎10-19-2006

Re: Poem: AND THEN SHE WAS GONE

_mOonSeeKer_ wrote:

thank you very much Kathy! I'm glad you liked my poem. I guess i might as well tell you. The poem is true. I was talking about my mother.

 

Moon, I had a feeling it was, and I'm so sorry.  You can't write something like that, and not have it come from a secret place of love, where it touches life in your words, and others around you  Love is like that. Poetry is like that.  There are no secrets when you write from your heart.  I've sometimes tried to hide myself, but it's virtually impossible.  You have a true poets heart.  Keep writing.

 

Kathy

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Re: Poem: AND THEN SHE WAS GONE

 

KathyS wrote:

Moon, I had a feeling it was, and I'm so sorry.  You can't write something like that, and not have it come from a secret place of love, where it touches life in your words, and others around you  Love is like that. Poetry is like that.  There are no secrets when you write from your heart.  I've sometimes tried to hide myself, but it's virtually impossible.  You have a true poets heart.  Keep writing.

 

Kathy

 

 

Thank you Kathy! That's probably the best compliment I've ever had. Thank you! 

http://whisperinglostwords.blogspot.com
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In Your Own Words - Dead and Buried, by largerthanlife

Thank you for sharing this poem with us!  They don't have to do with gardens, literally, just anything that is original, and having to do with what lives inside of you.  I think poems are a form of flowers, they grow and bloom inside each of us, as the season changes.  Our lives change, and ever evolve. 

 

The subject title, you can change that yourself every time you want to post something, like I've done here with your poem.  That makes it easier for us to find and identify the subject of the post, whenever we need to.  Title your poems, or thoughts, in that subject line.

 

I like your poem, very much!  It took me a few times in reading, and rereading, but that's the nature of some poetry, the process in finding out what the author's intentions are.   I don't know if you want comments, or not. 

 

 I do think you need to have more confidence in your writing.  We don't know your sister, or you, for that matter.  But I see how you've expressed those thoughts.  I know we don't always want close family members to witness what's deeply inside of us.  Sometimes it's a scary place, and the possibility of getting criticized for just being who you are, is not a pleasant thought. 

 

I know it probably took some courage to post this one, I'm sure, and I commend that in you.   I'm glad you found this safe harbor.   Vulnerability is in all of us, to different degrees, and to put yourself in will come more easily as you keep challenging yourself.  Take my word for it!  I've been on these boards for a number of years, and it does increase your courage over time.  Don't worry, here, we won't be harsh on you.  We all have our days, and our idiosyncrasies; it's all a part of being human.....and we try to treat each other, as we would like to be treated.  You are who you are, and that's always a good place to be!  :smileyhappy:

 

I hope you will enjoy posting more poems, or just thoughts about your surroundings in nature, because we like to read them!  Wordsmithonia is a place about words 

Have a great day!

 

Kathy

largerthanlife wrote:

I am a little wary of letting my poetry be seen by others since, well, poetry is more in the realm of my sister and not myself.  But however, I really like this poem, even though it is not one that i really want my family to see.  It has not a whit to do with gardens but i thought i would share anyway.

 

 

Dead and Buried

 

Sitting across from me is him,

This monster that haunts my past

I should feel something, but I don’t

Not even hate

He is not worth hate, or sorrow, or pity

 

I stopped caring how he wrecked my life

Letting the past go, to be swept away on the wind

He is nothing now

Just a stranger I sometimes call family

 

It took years to forgive him

A decade of prayer and tears

I did it because I had to

I refused to let him steal another precious moment

 

He has ceased to be the source of my nightmares

The cause of my weeping

And the root of the antipathy toward my life

 

My Monster Man is now securely wrapped in a box

Sealed with cement, and buried under eighteen feet of dirt

 

And even though the man who held my monster

Still walks the earth, free to laugh and dance

My Monster can no longer hurt me

He’s dead, and I was the one wielding the ax

 

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largerthanlife
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Re: In Your Own Words - Dead and Buried, by largerthanlife

Kathy, thanks for the comments about the poem.  I have to admit that i was worried, but i am sure that if i actually want to write for a living i might have to actually start showing my work to living human beings.  It is kind of nice to do it in a place were it is rather anonymous, and i can stay somewhat separate from the whole thing.  

 

I welcome any comments that anyone can give, since i will hardly get better if i keep making the same mistakes over and over again.  Or just general comments are always nice. I love hearing about how other people see my work, it just takes me a while to get up the courage to show it to them in the first place.  I look forward to posting some other stuff sometime soon.  This was actually a good experience.

 

 

"Look, would it save you a lot of time if I just gave up and went mad now?"
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Re: In Your Own Words - Dead and Buried, by largerthanlife

I love your poem, largerthanlife!! I think it's beautiful. I like the way you wrote it: so full of feelings, so true. I wanna see more of your poems or other writings if you don't mind. :smileyhappy:
http://whisperinglostwords.blogspot.com
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_mOonSeeKer_
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Re: In Your Own Words - Dead and Buried, by largerthanlife

I wrote this poem last year. Hope you like it. Please let me know what you think. If there's anything I need to change, just let me know. Thank You. :smileyhappy:

 


About A Girl

 
She is a girl with a passion -

A longing that has not been granted.

She wishes to be like us

For she has never been wanted.

 

She doesn't have friends

For they thought her a waste.

She's always been a loner;

Darkness is her secret place.

 

Fear is her constant companion

And doubts - she has many.

She often walks alone late at night

People thought she's crazy.


She will often cry suddenly

Standing on the seashore 

And stare out at the sea,

Her heart wounded to the core.


It is when she cries 

That she becomes bitter.

She hates the world 

For making her wither.

 

She wants to go away - 

Away from it all.

Please. . . Please. . . 

She's about to fall.

 

 

 

Unpublished Works of Arvie Garcia

Copyright © 2009

http://whisperinglostwords.blogspot.com
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KathyS
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Re: In Your Own Words - About A Girl

[ Edited ]

Moon, don't forget to change your subject line before you post.

 

I find it hard to give actual advice, or recommend changes to anyone's poem, mainly because I'm not an authority on writing poetry.  If this is what you want, advice, I think you will find that in the writing board. 

 

The only thing I know or feel about writing poems, is it has to tell us a story, and how you do it is up to you.  Some poems I've read in my life are so obscure, I honestly can't make heads nor tails out of them, but they can be considered great or wonderful by the masses.  Some can't be interpreted at all, because only the writer knows what those words mean.

 

When I edited my own poems, I want it to feel what I feel...not necessarily in the words that I've written, but in the cadence of the stanzas.  At times, I like to sculpt my poems into shapes.  That's a lot of fun, if that shape reflects the thoughts contained in the poem, it self. 

 

Make sure the tenses are consistent, too.  Past tense mixed with present tense, can cause confusion.  Is it now, or was it in the past that this happened, or is happening?  And also, what mood is the reader in at the time they are interpreting your poem?  That's a rhetorical question.  The poems appeal to us, depending on the changes in our lives, by every reader.

 

I have music in my background.  I play the piano and I sing.  I hear a lot of different influences in what I want to write, and what I want to read.   I hear music, and I hear beats.  I can't get it out of my head, so a lot of what I write is more like lyrics to a song.  My poems don't always keep in a formal format, they'll start out one way, and can end up in another.  From verse to chorus.   I'm also a potter, and that's some of the reason I see shapes and design in what I write.

 

It helps to know what your objective is, when you begin, and sometimes you may not have an objective at all.  Like I've said, I'm not educated in writing, I just do it because I enjoy it.  I am also analytical when I read.  I do it in a subconscious way, at first, as I feel it.  If someone wants me to take their writing apart, and tell them what I think it means, that's more what I can do.  But, I don't really want to do that here, because it can get very personal.  I don't want to start analyzing people on the board.  I'll try only to give how something makes me feel.  I hope this makes sense to everyone.

 

Kathy

 

 

_mOonSeeKer_ wrote:

I wrote this poem last year. Hope you like it. Please let me know what you think. If there's anything I need to change, just let me know. Thank You. :smileyhappy:

 


About A Girl

 
She is a girl with a passion -

A longing that has not been granted.

She wishes to be like us

For she has never been wanted.

 

She doesn't have friends

For they thought her a waste.

She's always been a loner;

Darkness is her secret place.

 

Fear is her constant companion

And doubts - she has many.

She often walks alone late at night

People thought she's crazy.


She will often cry suddenly

Standing on the seashore 

And stare out at the sea,

Her heart wounded to the core.


It is when she cries 

That she becomes bitter.

She hates the world 

For making her wither.

 

She wants to go away - 

Away from it all.

Please. . . Please. . . 

She's about to fall.

 

 

 

Unpublished Works of Arvie Garcia

Copyright © 2009

 

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Morigami
Posts: 1,258
Registered: ‎01-23-2010

Re: In Your Own Words - About A Girl

[ Edited ]

(I just made this poem a few days ago. So tell me what you think.)

 

 

Not Easy

 

My life isn't easy, getting teased and bullied

Everyone around me seemed so pleased

 

I tried to get away from the pain

But it seems insane

 

To forget all of this

To never feel like I should miss it

 

They steal away my soul

And leave me with a big hole

 

Should I just die?

I sigh at the thought

 

For it would leave nothing

Just a huff of air and no one would care

 

Unpublished Works of Alexis Joubert

Copyright © 2010 


Blog: http://booklover-bookchicks.blogspot.com/
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KathyS
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Re: In Your Own Words - Alexis, poem - Not Easy

[ Edited ]

Alexis,

 

If you aren't responding to a previous post, or poster,  please try and write the title of your subject, or poem, in the subject line, as I have done here, by giving this post your name and the title of your poem.  You don't need to write your name in it, as I've done, just the poem title.  That way we can keep all thoughts/poems separate from others.

 

As I read your poem, I sensed  that these are thoughts of a young girl, and nothing in the world is as hurtful as being bullied.  I can only imagine the feelings of alienation.  The writer has a strong connection to this subject matter. 

 

Even though there are feelings of hopelessness, and there is nothing worse, these times will pass, and brighter days will come.  Time is a funny thing - you're in the moment one minute, and tomorrow always will bring a brighter day.  :smileyhappy:  I do feel what you've written.  I think  you've expressed yourself very well.

 

Kathy

LexieVamp wrote:

(I just made this poem a few days ago. So tell me what you think.)

 

 

Not Easy

 

My life isn't easy, getting teased and bullied

Everyone around me seemed so pleased

 

I tried to get away from the pain

But it seems insane

 

To forget all of this

To never feel like I should miss it

 

They steal away my soul

And leave me with a big hole

 

Should I just die?

I sigh at the thought

 

For it would leave nothing

Just a huff of air and no one would care

 

Unpublished Works of Alexis Joubert

Copyright © 2010 

 

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Re: In Your Own Words - Being an artist

largerthanlife wrote:

Kathy, thanks for the comments about the poem.  I have to admit that i was worried, but i am sure that if i actually want to write for a living i might have to actually start showing my work to living human beings.  It is kind of nice to do it in a place were it is rather anonymous, and i can stay somewhat separate from the whole thing.  

 

I welcome any comments that anyone can give, since i will hardly get better if i keep making the same mistakes over and over again.  Or just general comments are always nice. I love hearing about how other people see my work, it just takes me a while to get up the courage to show it to them in the first place.  I look forward to posting some other stuff sometime soon.  This was actually a good experience.

 

 

Adria,

 

 

As I said, I don't know anyone's age, or experience on these subjects.  It would be great if everyone would tell us a little about themselves, so we can get a better perspective, as to how to approach each person. 

 

Most artists feel the same way as you...no matter what form of art it is.  You're wearing your heart on your sleeve.  And anyone, at any time, can't hurt you.  You put yourself out there for the world.  Eventually, the skin gets thicker, as the self confidence takes hold.

 

I've never had my poems, or my writing, critiqued, at least in front of me, and in the sense that it's been taken apart... but I have had my visual art critiqued.  I was married, had two children, and decided to go back to college to major in art.  Fine Art was what I wanted to do.  I wanted to take myself seriously, as an artist.  And during that time, I took a modern dance class, just to stay limber after a serious back injury.  I approached it as physical therapy....but,  you talk about performance art....I'm a shy person, and that took everything I had, to dance alone, impromptu, in front of the class!  I didn't expect that.  I've never taken a dance class in my life...and you talk about scared!!  But, I did it, and it was the most freeing experience I've ever had in my life!  A more beautiful feeling, I've never had.

 

As I progressed in my art, I had to receive critiques, it was just part of the program, and all of us had to give them, too....a learning process with our peers, as well as from the instructor. We always tried to give constructive criticism, and everyone would discuss the pros and cons of each one....for the most part it didn't hurt too much, but it was hard for me to give them.  I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings...but we had to be honest.

 

At one point, on my final piece, after I put everything I thought I had into it, my instructor took me aside.  She basically told me she didn't see "me" in what I painted, and for me to do it all over again.  It hurt so badly, I had to leave class, as I was in tears.  We're talking adult housewife, here!   I thought, "what does she know about me, that I don't?  Who does she think she is, telling me that painting wasn't me!"  I was mad.  I went home and thought about what she said to me.  I stared at that painting.  Every section of that painting told something about my life...but in the totality of it, it wasn't me, my personality, at that moment.  I had to ask myself what she saw in me, that I wasn't seeing. 

 

I re-did the whole three piece painting....from start to finish.  I allowed myself to free my thoughts, and let those feelings speak outloud, in a visual way.  As I did this, the evolution of this art piece became more true to who I was, something we aren't always capable, at first, in seeing.  We are timid.  We want to please others, more than ourselves.  We don't want to see our flaws, or show them.....I received an A on that final.  That was my reward, finding something in myself, that had to come through, for others to witness.

 

The struggle is demanding, at times.  And with all of this, we predict what others will say, instead of just living in the moment, and acknowledging who we are, and accepting that person, ourselves, at that moment. 

 

Don't anticipate other's thoughts, when it comes to producing your art, no matter what that art is.  Accept as much input as you can, as you grow in these areas.

 

If you want to make a living at this form of art, take as many classes as you can.  Learn from others.  If you do this, you'll teach yourself what it means to be an artist.  Don't be afraid.  Everyone has been in the same boat, at different times in their lives.  And, most importantly, enjoy what you do.  Enjoy those moments of pure creative freedom.  If you can do that, you will find that space you belong in.

 

Kathy

Frequent Contributor
largerthanlife
Posts: 103
Registered: ‎08-17-2007

Re: In Your Own Words - Being an artist

I have to admit that i am certainly on the shy side.  Part of it is that i have a hard time connecting to people, and my people skills are rather rusty.  But the other part is that my head is so full, so alive, with so many different worlds, so many different stories that at times i spend more time in my own type of mental paradise, that stepping out into the world always seems less alive, less vivid, than the one that exists in my head.  That is one of the major reasons that i write.  I simply have to if i want any type of peace in my mind.  If i at least get the story on paper then at least i might be able to concentrate on the real world.  Some times i dearly wish my brain had an off switch.  It is rather distracting to be sitting in my classes and find that all i can think of is a perfect line that i should put in my next story/poem.  

 

I am taking a creative writing class next semester, so that should help with forcing myself to allow people to see my writing.  I am both excited and terrified.  The poem i posted before was the result of a previous creative writing class, so i know that when forced i can write.  But when faced with the prospect of having my stuff compared with the others in the class, who always seem a thousand miles ahead of me, i get a little discouraged.  I crave writting like nothing ever in my life before, and i don't know what would happen if i was told that it is a hopeless cause.

 

I am not even sure why i am sharing this here, except that i won't have to look anyone in the face tomorrow who reads this.  But there is also the feeling that there are people here who understand just how important words can be.  I haven't met very many other people who would understand just how incredible it is to bring another universe into existance, to bring it to life, and then let others live in it.  I never really had aspirations to be famous.  I just wanted people to share my worlds.  To understand just how beautiful and complex a place can be, even it only exists on paper.  

 

God, i fell like i just went to confession (which i odd since i am not catholic).  I just think i am going to chalk this up to being up late on a Saturday.  I get kind of loopy when i stay up late on the weekends.  If you find all of this crazy all i can say is that it is common knowledge in my family that i am a few sandwiches short of a picnic.  I'm stopping now, i'll come back when i am more sane.

"Look, would it save you a lot of time if I just gave up and went mad now?"