Memory
The twig recalls the feet of the bird No matter how lightly grasped It bends then quivers As it is released Remembering Until it stills Gone The bird has flown
Tag: creative writing
After the creating
A poem about the artist returning to self after creating all day seen through the metaphor of the hawk.
Fire and breath
Clarice Lispector was a Brazilian writer of Ukrainian-Jewish descent whose singular, poetic voice reshaped modern literature in Latin America. Her work often drifts beyond narrative into something more elemental—part thought, part sensation, part prayer. With novels like Água Viva and The Hour of the Star, she wrote not to explain the world but to touch its mystery. “I write out of pure longing, not ambition,” she once said—and that longing pulses through every line she left behind.
Overcoming Morning Anxiety: A Creative Journey
When Imagination Wakes Me
At 3 a.m., it’s not cortisol but imagination in disguise—whispering through undone tasks and shadowy corners. I rise, make coffee, and write. The mind settles when given ink and quiet.
The mind field: navigating memory and experience while writing
This piece explores the voice behind the poet, the stitching of memory, and the anchor points that root us in a world that often slips past.
Ten Thousand
Whatever you work in this life Whatever you create with If you strive And give of yourself fiercely If you surrender to the art It will answer And its reply Will in turn create you The painter will be painted The musician will be played The sculptor will be moulded The writer will be written […]
Groove
The best choices are never planned The road taken often looks like the wrong one If I even bothered to use a map anymore Which I don’t The seat of my pants Is wise I made it so By falling back on it so often Gravity is easy Habit divine The trick is choosing the […]
Circle back
Who are you at 3am Sitting on the front step Staring into the darkness Lit by thousands of stars Perhaps a full moon (But not together They are sort of a one or the other Shine The stars fade when the moon is bright) Who are you then? At 3am As you sip coffee and […]
Cling
Fingertip By fingertip Hauling out of the ether I listen with only half an ear to the sounds of droplets plump with water Trickling down iron a laughing wet chuckle Slushing through the pipes Forming limpid lines Then dropping Plopping on concrete below Brief life over hardly born There are things that form Only to […]
An artful living
Why wouldn’t I create? We have this ability to make ourselves incredibly happy for hours With something that comes completely from within No outside person or thing required I pick up a slim black tipped pen Or a camera Or a notebook And write, click, paint, Walk out into nature Or drink deeply from my […]