|A Los Angeles Childhood - Words and What They Can Do|
|Thursday, 23 May 2013 18:11|
This morning I was riding my exercise bike, a 1976 Schwinn Exercise bike my mother fondly called her WD-40. She used it after a heart attack and going through cardiac rehab. It is set against my bookshelves in the part of my studio known as my working library.
I have reading material right there next to me and have been working on SEVEN PLACES IN AMERICA: A Poetic Journey by Miriam Sagan, with whom I just finished a poetry class, and THE TRUE SECRET OF WRITING, by Natalie Goldberg, with whom I have studied over the years.
Out of these two books this morning came a random list of words. These words became a Haiku:
Alert: Polish Bones.
Just yesterday I was at Hillside Market in Santa Fe where I attend a weekly writing group on Tuesdays 10-12pm. I searched and searched for six words with which I could build a Sestina.
Today I have those words plus one to spare.
I am always amazed at how inspiration just pops up, random, without struggle. When I get anxious and figure nothing will come, then Mom's rescue bike comes into play, or a walk with my dog down our dirt road, or a cup of French press, and voila. Something comes forward to inform me that it's time to get out my fountain pen and get to work.
I would love to have you join me on this glorious day to welcome in life. My daily mantra when I awake and my small dog beside me awakes: Thanks, and thank you for reading My Jewish Childhood Blog.