After taking a few days aside from writing and try to recharge creativily as it were, I found myself sitting here for close to six hours working on a poem. Distraction after distraction held up my work, followed by an old enemy of mine when it comes to writing. Impatience has been an enemy of sorts where I work tirelessly on a piece, until I grow impatient with and by my speed and ability to finish fast enough. Thus my work standard gets effected and the result may appear as this poem below will appear.
A rush to complete a work because of impatience and grow sloppy as it were, is a great problemof mine at times. Therefore as it happened with this piece, I decided to use this as a post to see how others get through something like this. When creative Storms create more junk in which cannot be used for the given piece and one is left with a jumble of words and pieces with now home as it were. That is how I describe it at best, a rushed piece of work that may start out well and end with a rushed piece that does not match the same rate as the remainder of the work.
I had begun writing pretty well on a topic that I felt was moving on well, until I got hit with a creative storm that blew my flow out of field and along with it the poem I was working on. Which followed is the remainder of this poem that in my opinion does not match the start. But I believe in letting creative juices flow where they shall go and see where I then will have for work in writing pieces. I do hope that folks understand where I am getting at. This poem now goes to discuss the creative storms that may go on within as one sets to write or do what the artist does. The storms that comes with it also can be a part of the course.
When Creative Storms Dance It’s no scandal a candle sits there, That light the darkened sky I declare. To brighten where I stand coins left in hands, Watching shadows dance as the light expands. As storm winds blow it burns out slow, And becomes a show where shadows grow. Here imagination takes a short trip, To where the limits of that night lost grip. The rain that falls creates an unknown tune, Wrapped in a self made warm cocoon. Watching a show created deep inside, To entertain as the storm passes this side. Where imagination rolls, limits pass, Like glass the ceiling shatters creative class. Let it flow where e’er you go, wander free, Creative flow comes none need to agree. Unknown shadows dance within a dark mind, Where candles light no creative light will blind. The storm within creates a warm pace there, Few will care from where it comes yet try share. © Pat Fitzgerald 2022
Thank you for taking time to read this post, It is my hope that you found something that was enjoyable here. If you or anyone wishes to comment, I welcome, BUT ask that folks are polite in comments. This is because I strive to have as positive a blog as possible in which people could visit.
At times when publishing a post I do so with some mistakes and typos make their way onto a published piece. I assure folks that all mistakes and typos are corrected and updated as soon as I discover any that have made through to a published post.
Also A personal goal of mine was to strive to reach 1000 subscribers for this blog, which in my view would be epic for a small time blog that works mainly on poetry and a little photography for enjoyment. At this point I am at 982 subscribers for this little home I have here. My hope is it can grow to surpass the goal by new year. BUT I accept that I will be a little short. BUT thank you to all who helped grow this blog to the numbers I have here.
In finishing Please take care and stay safe.as always when possible try to show a little caring love to those who may be in need of such at this time.
Until next time Cheers. Also May your New Year be as peaceful and enjoyableas your hearts desire. Have a blessed and bountifull 2023
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