Tonight my heart is filled with hope and excitement. Kind encouraging words have made me doubt my ability a little less. And I feel excited over what kind of adventures the writing assignments will lead me into.
Getting emails about the student discount card, and applying for student grants. It’s finally starting to sink in. For the coming year I’ll be a student of creative writing. The idea still blows my mind. Who? Me! That cant be true… Except it is.
I sent out my applications and text samples and in the end got accepted too so many of them I had to choose which ones I thought suited me best. It’s felt unreal and mind-boggling. And my inner critics and saboteurs have made everything they can to try to discount the significance of what that means. But my passion for writing shines brighter then them, and I’ll be damned if I ever again let then scare me into not attempting something I want very much.
It will mean less time for participating in writing prompts and blogging. Although I can’t see myself quit writing poetry as often as possible. I’ll keep you updated on what’s going on, and when time allows share what I learn and write.
It isn’t really the end of summer yet. Some weeks with warmth and light remains. But my mind is already moving on. Thinking about the coming fall, it’s return to routines and it’s changes. Of harvest and reaping the rewards of work and toil.
The light will leak out of the sky and we’ll be plunged into darkness again. I’m cautiously optimistic about suffering less from my depression this winter. But time will tell.
A glimmer of hope and faith Let’s seeds of hope germinate Growing tender shoots Sending out questing roots Searching for purchase in the arid plain Watered by tears of grief and pain
Growing stronger each day As the soul realizes she may Free the muses to let creativity flow Allow faith in budding ability to grow Trust in the Goddess boon Receive nourishment from sun and moon
Evolve according to the season Follow the heart’s bright beacon Until passion sings in the blood Flowing freely, transforming the lifeless mud Into rich and fertile earth Where a scarred soul might find rebirth
I should be asleep, but can’t because all thoughts swirling. Realized after reading others poetry, that writing the turmoil out probably where a better way than watching tv.
So sat by candlelight, watching the moon and poured it on paper.
There’s thunder in the sky, the sickle flashes by. As I hurry to cut down the corn.
I reap with a happy sigh, as swift swallows fly. The field must be done by Sunday morn.
I’ve struggled and hoped, clinging to a frayed rope. Until roots took hold, new futures were born. Now I’ve got to be bold, leave behind what I’ve been told.
Forget about the lonely tears I weeped. As I reap the dreams that I have sown.
The harvest moon glow, when I life changes sow. As I sing beneath the sickle moon.
I’ll rise above my woes, when the change of seasons blows. As I dance scy-clad to her freeing tune.
Forget about the lonely tears I weeped. As I reap the dreams that I have sown.
I’ve sown the seeds, that my soul will free. Time to harvest them just like the corn.
I’ve learnt to know my needs, to my muses feed. Now let creativity my life adorn.
I’ve struggled and hoped, clinging to a frayed rope. Until roots took hold, new futures were born. Now I’ve got to be bold, leave behind what I’ve been told.
Forget about the lonely tears I weeped. As I reap the dreams that I have sown.
Written for earthweal’s weekly challenge: LAMMAS. I was so inspired by the song in the prompt, a 14th century song about the death and rebirth of the barley crop (video below), that I had to write one of my own.
Of sowing and reaping, growing and weeping, of dreams becoming reality.
Steve Winwood singing “John Barleycorn must die” – a 14th century song about the death and rebirth of the barley crop
The world according to RedCat 
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