As a writer, nothing moves me more than words. I fall in love with them a lot. It’s not hard; all I have to do is open a book, magazine or anything with the written word. Whether it's about a person, an animal, a tree, a flower or a lady bug, I feel the words with a passion. I devour them like a literary cannibal. They cast a spell, tossing me into far to reach places. Words ring in my head, they taunt me, seduce me, stroke me, lull me, and manipulate me until I have to let go to cook dinner or go grocery shopping. Breaking the word spell is like being jilted by a lover; it hurts to leave before I’m ready to let go.

I am challenging myself to create a fictional tale each week. My goal is to push myself beyond my comfort zone in not keeping my writings to myself. I will write a variety of compositions that include playwriting, screenwriting, poetry, short stories, non-fiction, and a draft of a fictional novel I’m writing. At times I get jammed in my thoughts and would love for you to throw out ideas that would help me move my writing beyond a snails pace. I will be posting exercises and challenges for myself and others who wish to join me in my creative journey. Look forward to your comments. (just click on the below comments option)

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Rondeau Poem

Muse Me

Sing to me muse--bestow.
Picasso, Giotto, Michangelo,
School is nearly over,
My mind turned to clover.
Where did my muse go?

In truth, it’s an open blow
I suffer like an old crow.
It’s worse than a hangover.
Sing to me muse.

My hand will not flow;
Sestinas, Rondels, to-and-fro.
I may as well be in Hannover.
Perhaps I should pray to Rover.
Why am I not gung ho . . .
Sing to me muse.

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