Thursday, October 17, 2013

Thrive Thursdays: Last Minute Right On Times

It is often "funny frustrating" to me how the creative process chooses to work, how and when it chooses to make you the "creator". As though the creative process takes on a life essence of its self and, not bothering to whisper, shouts loud and clear "You there! You are MY muse. Now it is time to have my way with you." This means rain or shine, 8:30 morning calls or burning the midnight are essentially the creative process's bitch. My what a whirlwind adventure that can be is!
I have had words brewing and mingling with the season's inspirations for a couple of days now. It was unclear whether they would present themselves as a poem or an essay of sorts. After the lazy day I had (thank you Hulu for helping me discover you have America's Next Top Model...a weak spot for me) I was left wondering what the heck is Thrive Thursday going to be about. Let's take honesty a step further...I was in tears. The creative process timing can be discouraging, but there is nothing like the words of your Mum and a humbling prayer "Lord give me words for thriving today," to turn things around.

As my tweet from post-Thrive stated "A walk in the woods demands a camera, flip-flops (a girls gotta be 1 w/ nature ;), note taking apparatus (ie phone w/ #Evernote) #prepared." When in doubt...take a walk on a beautiful Autumn day, camera in tow and let the moment take ahold of you. Remember the brewing words? How about a poem?!? A poem? How sweet. What poem would that be?*

Autumn Is
Autumn is
A hailing specimen from the halls of
Eric the Red, they call him blood
His might unquestioned
Festooned with a warrior's reapings
He is a crisp and bone depth nectar of his ancestors
Autumn is
A walking figure among the throngs
Of knowledge hungry Yale and Harvard minors
He is hidden there, silent and bidding
Donning fishermen sweaters and rimmed wisdom
Giant and unwavering as a tree
Fire branded roots and bearded fiercely
Perhaps a pirate, searching for earth's time, that he may bed her
Capturing, besting that which he would have always
Autumn is
A musk pervading the senses with his harvests
He is basking baked delight
A glowing presence in the window of a chilling breath
The shrill echoes of a child's memory
Weaving savvy, a sweet containment
Autumn is
Patient as he salvages
Kissing Summer's envy
The punching crunch heard on every corner
You must not forget him
Autumn is
Thin steel fingers mercifully cold
Bone chilling, larger than mine
His grounding is inducing
Beard trimmings littering the ground
Mementos left for finding
Piled high for leaps and bounds
His fire left to warm the rough comings
Autumn is
Bit by bit shedding his soul
Sacrificing to an unrelenting earth
His heart it be not black, but a frenzied canopy of a red sire's offspring
The fire and flesh, the dying and the sleeping.
Autumn is my master.

Is it obvious I'm quite infatuated with Autumn? (insert wink)

Photography me got to have some fun too!


Thriving Moments: Letting the creative process take its good ole' sweet time. A poem and pictures.

“I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”
~L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
Footnotes (who wants to knit me some socks?):
  • *Matilda of course!
  • **This is an original poem by ME, Maddie. Victory Dance
  • Music - Liz Lawrence. You must listen to her music!

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