Truly Bard self indulgent scattered writing

since i was a little girl i have written stories.  i don't know how to write them now.  they are too crisp and perfect and linear.  they are not words burtsting like black berries in my mouth, flashes, colors, bells.  and i read them aloud with shivering breath under a knowing moon with suns in my eyes.  radiating rhymes, and feeling little sensations
cookin' up a bigh love pot in my head
it feels good to forget punctuation and trust my breath

marmalade chunks makin a a sickly sweet plop plop in the cup.  i close my eyes to type this morning to better hold the dream world in my head.    what hidden agendas are in these fingers?  what hidden agendas cower from me?  words are carried over from dreams and danced into the morning.  they struggle to form in my sleepy mind.  eyes crusted over boldly and tongue sluggish, i drag myslef to the cumputer clutching the remains of another world.  i am not the code breadker in the morning, just the messenger relaying the message.  the code breaker can come in later.  i can be that weeks later if i have to. 
write now i am just a messenger, carrying news and secrets from another place into the present moment.  remember to be a spy today, remember to think always like the poet you are.

i think i could live for a while on coffee and poetry nad just a tiny bit of food.  i shall start a new diet.  a word diet.  i shall speak them sparingly employing only the most poingnant ones, all the words that make me sigh to speak them out loud.  send them afloat on a current of enraptured breath. 
let's start today as if on purpose.  let's start today knowing that the world is out there fodder for my imagination and my emotions.  i'll concentrate on the enery behind my writing, reveling in the words i wish to form relationships withnad not think so much about being concise or even understandable to anyone else.  today i will pay attention and stay present and speak as though writing a poem on the air, my tongue will be my pen today and all the world my paper.
i'll find new obsessions and discover links between them and my current obsessions (blackberries, keys, teeth, etc.) discover that there is a link between that obese, drug addicted, racist woman and that little daisy springing up between the cracks in the sidewalk outside our shop.  we all have stories to tell.  maybe the daisy and that woman have similar stories.  the mornings are good for writing with energy even if my body doesn't exactly have a lot of that, my soul does…it's still wearing sleep mist over it.
mmmmm….marmalade

Re: Truly Bard self indulgent scattered writing

Tawny, welcome to Diving Deeper!

I really like this supposed bad writing of yours, it's truly sumptuous. I have so many favourite lines, I'll have to make a conscious effort not to quote the whole thing.

Re writing stories:

i don't know how to write them now.  they are too crisp and perfect and linear.  they are not words burtsting like black berries in my mouth, flashes, colors, bells… [ellipsis mine :) ]

it feels good to forget punctuation and trust my breath

More on words:

i shall start a new diet.  a word diet.  i shall speak them sparingly employing only the most poingnant ones, all the words that make me sigh to speak them out loud.  send them afloat on a current of enraptured breath.

This reminds me of what I loved about writing morning pages when I did them:

the mornings are good for writing with energy even if my body doesn't exactly have a lot of that, my soul does…it's still wearing sleep mist over it.

And:

write now i am just a messenger, carrying news and secrets from another place into the present moment. 

!  Really, I think that pretty well sums up what this workshop is about. Getting out of the way and just allowing ourselves to be the messengers for what wants to come.

Write on!

Ruth

Re: Truly Bard self indulgent scattered writing

ELLIPSIS!  That's what those are called!  I knew it was close to eclipse :)

Re: Truly Bard self indulgent scattered writing

Tawny,

i think i could live for a while on coffee and poetry nad just a tiny bit of food.  i shall start a new diet.  a word diet.  i shall speak them sparingly employing only the most poingnant ones, all the words that make me sigh to speak them out loud.  send them afloat on a current of enraptured breath.

Well, ditto to everything Rudyan said, and I will need your new diet, because from reading this, I gained five pounds and grew myself a garden of flowers and words in my mind.

Very nice, very sensual, very rich with writers' feelings. I like it so much.

Welcome to DD!

Andrea