Sometimes on the verge of waking up I have remnants of dreams piecing themselves into visions. One I had this morning felt like I was driving up a mountain road. I could see a highway bordered with redwoods clearly, and, for that matter I began to see everything else clearly too. I had been asking myself the question, what’s next? What’s next as far as my writing goes? It’s like I am waiting for my future to inspire me.
I’m not sure that’s the right direction. Instead of looking forward why not look back? Is there a spark somewhere in my past? A friend, Marianne Lyon, Poet Laureate of Napa County, asked a group of writers to share poems in preparation of an event about inspiration.
Instead of thinking about my inspiration in terms of what’s to come, I thought back to how it began.
The Power of Words
In second grade our class recited verses from the poem,
Bed in Summer, by Robert Louis Stevenson.
My part was to say the line, “…dress by yellow candlelight”
Instead I said, “dress my yellow candlelight”.
Students laughed at my mistake.
Now I find inspiration
in the power of words, even the tiny ones.
What inspires you?
I think “dress my yellow candlelight” is far more poetic. xox
Thanks, Laura: I think you’re right!
I never knew that.
Barbara,
What a lovely memory. I sometimes find ideas and inspiration in unusual places. Once I gazed at a flaw in a rug which reminded me of a scar. The result was a short story about a national guard cadet confronting students at a protest. The man had a scar. I love the fact that your choice of words in your poetry sometimes are light and humorous.
Thank you, Marilyn: That’s amazing. I’ll never look at a torn rug the same again. Stories are all around us waiting to happen!
This might be one of my favorite posts from you yet! What a great way to look at a situation.