Looking for some juice...
Posted by Robin Haws on Monday, February 22, 2010
ACCESS DENIED
That's what my brain is telling me this morning as I try to search for an idea for a blog post.
Where did I put that Creative Juice?
Thought it was behind the milk.
I suppose I'm a little distracted today. I'll maybe be blogging about that distraction soon.
As a writer, there've been plenty of times of "denied access" in my life. When I was younger, I'd turn to other writers and the way they always said it better. Turn to them for inspiration. For escape. For comfort in the thought that if you just keep writing, someday you write something worthwhile.
And, as I reread old journals and even old blog posts, I can see that every once in a while, shining through the drivel, is something worthwhile.
So, today, I'm thinking I'll leave it to the others. The writers that came before me, who's words will live longer than most of mine.
I was reading an old journal earlier, feeling maybe a bit too nostalgic for a great many reasons, when I came across a poem. When I read this particular poem, I can hear the voice of my Great Great Uncle Earl.
He was an amazing man. If any of you are from Oklahoma and know of Sullins Stadium in Ponca City, well, that's named after him. I had the great fortune to know him for a large portion of my life. I had the greater fortune of being one of his favorite people ever. As he was mine. I always loved listening to him tell his stories, getting packages in the mail from him, visiting his home and looking over the archives of his life.
Who knows how many years he had loved this poem and repeated it. I remember that he once sent me a card. Well, he always sent me cards but, this one had an image of a lonely cowboy on the front of it that embodied the word "wistful". Inside, he wrote this poem. It went with the image so well. I thought about the cowboy on the cover and the poem inside as if the words were from the cowboy himself.
The poem is by a man named Bill L. Hill and I'll always hear my Uncle Earl's voice when I read the words...
"There was rain so cool upon her face, as I kissed her that last time. Our hearts beat deep and her face was sweet, her body warm and fine.
And my mind rebelled at the gloomy thought of having to ride away. So, I held her close and her breath was warm on my face that rainy day.
But, my time was short and the moment there was soft exquisite pain.
Then my love let go and I rode away in a cool, blue summer rain."
That's what my brain is telling me this morning as I try to search for an idea for a blog post.
Where did I put that Creative Juice?
Thought it was behind the milk.
I suppose I'm a little distracted today. I'll maybe be blogging about that distraction soon.
As a writer, there've been plenty of times of "denied access" in my life. When I was younger, I'd turn to other writers and the way they always said it better. Turn to them for inspiration. For escape. For comfort in the thought that if you just keep writing, someday you write something worthwhile.
And, as I reread old journals and even old blog posts, I can see that every once in a while, shining through the drivel, is something worthwhile.
So, today, I'm thinking I'll leave it to the others. The writers that came before me, who's words will live longer than most of mine.
I was reading an old journal earlier, feeling maybe a bit too nostalgic for a great many reasons, when I came across a poem. When I read this particular poem, I can hear the voice of my Great Great Uncle Earl.
He was an amazing man. If any of you are from Oklahoma and know of Sullins Stadium in Ponca City, well, that's named after him. I had the great fortune to know him for a large portion of my life. I had the greater fortune of being one of his favorite people ever. As he was mine. I always loved listening to him tell his stories, getting packages in the mail from him, visiting his home and looking over the archives of his life.
Who knows how many years he had loved this poem and repeated it. I remember that he once sent me a card. Well, he always sent me cards but, this one had an image of a lonely cowboy on the front of it that embodied the word "wistful". Inside, he wrote this poem. It went with the image so well. I thought about the cowboy on the cover and the poem inside as if the words were from the cowboy himself.
The poem is by a man named Bill L. Hill and I'll always hear my Uncle Earl's voice when I read the words...
"There was rain so cool upon her face, as I kissed her that last time. Our hearts beat deep and her face was sweet, her body warm and fine.
And my mind rebelled at the gloomy thought of having to ride away. So, I held her close and her breath was warm on my face that rainy day.
But, my time was short and the moment there was soft exquisite pain.
Then my love let go and I rode away in a cool, blue summer rain."
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