writing : blog
Only When I am Quiet and Do Not Speak Only when I am quiet for a long timeand do not speakdo the objects of my life draw near.Shy, the scissors and spoons, the blue mug.Hesitant even the towels,for all their intimate knowledge and scent offresh bleach.How steady their regard as they ponder,dreaming and waking,the entrancement of my daily wanderings and…
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Wow. We have been overwhelmed by the response for the upcoming 37days retreat (Sept 26-28, 2008) and the retreat is SOLD OUT. We will welcome participants from ten U.S. states and Canada at the beautiful Bend of Ivy Lodge in the fall for that gathering. If you are interested to be put on the waiting list should a space open…
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The End and the Beginning After every warsomeone has to clean up.Things won’tstraighten themselves up, after all. Someone has to push the rubbleto the side of the road,so the corpse-filled wagonscan pass. Someone has to get miredin scum and ashes,sofa springs,splintered glass,and bloody rags. Someone has to drag in a girderto prop up a wall,Someone has to glaze a window,rehang…
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Questions Before Dark Day ends, and before sleepwhen the sky dies down, consideryour altered state: has this daychanged you? Are the cornerssharper or rounded off? Did youlive with death? Make decisionsthat quieted? Find one clear wordthat fit? At the sun’s midpointdid you notice a pitch of absence,bewilderment that invitesthe possible? What did you learnfrom things you dropped and picked upand…
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Elephant Love Fourteen thousand pounds Shift silently Over ruts worn deep By the lure of water. A behemoth link In the tail to trunk chain, Slinking under night’s cover Toward the wide, gentle sea. Each massive foot, Distinct as a thumbprint, Hints at treetops and weather, Speaks of dry and cracked earth. Using sub-human decibels, He sounds out over miles,…
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If There is Another World If there is another world, I think you can take a cab there– or ride your old bicycle down Junction Blvd. past the Paris Suites Hotel with the Eiffel Tower on the roof and past the blooming Magnolia and on– to the corner of 168th street. And if you’re inclined to, you can turn left…
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Our National Poetry Month Poemapalooza is drawing to a close. By my estimation, we’ve got a week left, or perhaps less. I can never remember which months have 31 days. Is it the months on the knuckles, or the ones in-between the knuckles? Let’s throw caution to the wind and play it by ear. It will end when it needs…
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There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein. -Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith Every writer has experienced moments in which all they can find is excuses. Not words or poetic turns of phrase or metaphor, but only excuses. Except for writers like Joyce Carol Oates with her 70 published books or whatever…
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Yes It could happen any time, tornado, earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen. Or sunshine, love, salvation. It could, you know. That’s why we wake and look out – no guarantees in this life. But some bonuses, like morning, like right now, like noon, like evening. – William Stafford
Let’s say you’re 15, almost 16. Let’s say your boyfriend invited you to the Prom and you needed a black dress to match his Montreat green tartan kilt because he’s Scottish and plays the bagpipes. Let’s say you found the style you wanted, but can’t find it in black. Imagine the despair, the gnashing of teeth, the eating of Oreos….
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Patti Digh is the author of six books, including bestsellers Life is a Verb and Creative is a Verb. She travels the world teaching others about mindfulness: to live fully, love well, let go deeply, and make a difference. Patti's comments have appeared on PBS and in The New York Times, Fortune, the Wall Street Journal, the London Financial Times, and many other international publications. She writes a thank you note every morning.
