Still, unmarred, nothing spoils the tension of its surface; no disturbance in graceful spreading waves, no waterbugs to dance, entrance, engage the eye, no underneath, no rules exactly scribed to guide the cutting shears;
Perfect in shape and thickness, intended as a tool, aged in desperate need, useless as a fool;
Spilled upon its surface then, in circles, cuts, and symbols, springs from mind, craving-driven output, oxygen to our kind.
Writers Envy 
Reblogged this on Anna Dobritt — Author.
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Thank you, Anna!
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I love that your writing has so much there that it draws me back in immediately for re-reads. Then, I struggle as an English teacher for the words to form the response. That’s my reaction to this. Like a sheet of fresh snow that the squirrel even hasn’t discovered yet, your still-water canvas drew me in, as I share that oxygen, and I get restless if a day goes by without creating something.
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Thank you š I’m at my most prolific – posting every day – when I’m working on my novel. I don’t know if I post to take a break, or if something I write toggles a blog post-switch. I think poetry is a quick way to get something off my mind. But I can be sloppy too.
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You’re just trying to entice me into novel writing… I’m pretty addicted to daily poetry writing since I flew out of the womb in my dramatic-entrance rebirth a year ago. I stopped writing after high school, when I donated my whole being to a strenuous relationship and raising awesome kids (10 years apart) through it. Who knows who I will be now that I’ve started my own life…
I haven’t even written a short story since elementary school. Creative nonfiction calls me as a writer, but my mind is loving exploring fantasy as a reader. I have Moby Dick and Dune on my nightstand (for a while now, unfinished, even though I am loving both). My passions overexcite me every minute of every day. I think I have a problem…
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It’s a good problem then. I dabbled in a few poems as a teenager – not more than a score or so – then set down the pen until 2012 when I wrote a pretty harsh piece after the sister I was closest to died. I guess that sparked something: I’ve written steadily since then. My 30-year in the waiting novel began in December 2013. I had always wanted to write this book but didn’t know how to begin. One night I’m reading in bed when – Eureka! – it hit me. I wrote the first chapter that night. (I don’t think I actually said Eureka….)
You’re a great writer with a lively mind. I’ll be happy whatever you write. Just don’t ever stop!
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I started writing at the time I ended my 24-marriage. Then I almost stopped writing when something else afterwards shattered my beliefs again. But, here I am, struggling now only to adjust to this current new mental healthiness, mapping where the internal mines are located, and wondering, now what as a writer? Lol, with the Eureka. Thank you for the writing encouragement; it helps me immensely as I start to grow belief in myself, in general.
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You’re welcome. You’d better write every day now that I’m used to it š
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