Spring At Last

The rains stopped. The sun has glowed three days in a row, and I am enjoying it when not at work.

After work, my play consists of hanging out at an online poetry workshop, where all my notions of poetry are proving woefully inaccurate. I thought I knew what poetry is. I thought what I wrote was workable, had potential. I’m learning that creative words, unique metaphors, don’t necessarily make a poem. And that cliches and abstractions are harder to avoid than I thought. I’ve not been reading much else besides this website, and I’m feeling the lack. I need to get lost in a story for awhile.

The biggest part of painting perhaps is faith, and waiting receptively, content to go any way, not planning or forcing. The fear, though, is laziness. It is so easy to drift and finally be tossed on the beach, derelict.

–Emily Carr

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