I go through spurts, as I’ve written before, where poetry is a part of my life. Right now I’ve got a poet in my head. Nothing is coming out that is very enlightening, but I’m enjoying it. I’m reading Poemcrazy again, for the umpteenth time. I cannot rave enough about how much that book has changed my life.
And maybe it’s because I’m going through something that brings up emotions and thoughts, strife in some ways, that I’m more attune to words. Words in songs fill me up with magic. The song “If I Die Young” by The Band Perry has me in a fantasy mode. The quality of words and how they roll off your tongue to invoke images that might not mean anything to anyone else, but to me, they open me up to something.
If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
Satin, bed of roses, river, dawn. All words that in the song mean something else, but for some reason, I can’t not think of a fairytale when I read them.
I want to write and write like I can’t get enough out of me. Words and thoughts build in me like an explosion waiting to be written. There is so much I’m thinking and feeling that it’s overwhelming at times.
The clouds building up each day over the mountains, the color of a Dianthus flower, the oppressing humidity, the scent of pines that I remember when I was young and at my grandparents cabin, sweet juicy raspberries picked fresh and filled with warm sunshine. All these things I see and I can’t figure out how to get them all out.
Which is why I’m back to reading Poemcrazy. It helps me work things out. I can read one chapter from anywhere in the book and I want to try writing. It doesn’t matter the subject. Everything get’s me thinking.
Even a new children’s story about a little honey bee behind in her collecting, has me thinking. Girly thoughts.
Meeting an older man who treats me like a lady has me feeling feminine and when I feel that way, the words are delicate. Freeing .