The person who makes an app that translates
real-time thoughts into words on a screen
will change the creative process forever
… for good or ill
On the outside I sit outside in the dark silence
On the inside my bosom is clamorous with
Painterly disconnections of truth and grace
… I could go on
I could go on if I only had that app
For alas, the sodden night is dark and
I cannot strike my thoughts upon a page
… without parched light
This truth is as literal as it is metaphorical
For in the process of fetching parchment
My mind will corrupt these moments
… these raw moments
You asked me for a poem today.
I raised the roof of my skull
like the hood of a jalopy,
I replaced the sparkplugs and
Revved my six cylinders, smoking
Choking an unbreathable cloud,
My tarnished shroud.
You asked me for a poem today,
And here I am full of meager
Moments where I once savored
Modest madness. Where I neglected
Love and paid up with hungry longing,
All my regrets for reckless crimes.
You ask me for a poem today.
Just one day, a poem!
But all poems are made somewhere in the stars,
Carrying ships of perfumes and refracted prisms,
They know no start or end,
They violate all clocks and calendars.
I won’t know when the words stop flowing.
You might catch it if they do.
Creative Process
Artists CREATE a sense of distance
By fading colors to purples,
Or geometrically
Drawing far things smaller -
One-point perspective:
When lines converge,
Vanishing
To a
.
Big bang!?
CREATION!?
Spon--tan--e--ous
Matter projecting
Outward from just one point
Rotating, then coalescing
Into numberless galaxies
Of stars, planets; in some cases………..LIFE!
This new year
I tuck you away
Like a sweater I no longer wear
You whose squiggly ink
occupy hardcover journals
I cherishingly placed
on a wooden bookshelf
You I've outgrown
You a place I no longer go to
You who are fading with time
Leaving only faint lines in my psyche
From where I draft new ideas
You the ghost of last year's thoughts
I have nothing to lose, by submitting.
My poems aren't perfect, I'm admitting.
A crime of bad rhymes, I'm committing.
A disease of word misuse, I'm transmitting.
I try to be hard-hitting, but my diction is unfitting.
There are times I feel like quitting,
Then a gem is born, after some diligent editing.
My words are mirrors
of my thoughts and feelings,
my pen a hopeful maiden,
twisting and turning on the page,
feathery phrases my props,
to lure your chivalrous hands
to take me for a dance,
hoping to send electric waves,
leaving you in a trance,
to offer a home for my poems.
an adventure
an exploration
erudition
in a turn of phrase
made ccessible
thrown through space
form of perception
feelings speculations
full of exhilaration
profundity
in a new cry
an expression of
personaity
in a thesis of ideas
abstractions
in a life flow of motifs
incarnate
full of vitality
assertions of the soul
manifestations
of memory
activity
embodied by imgination
reality
of precision
in
a condensed
concept
without
decay
Writing is therapy,
medicine for my
inner child;
my soul.
Past abuses, terrors,
inner monsters,
conquered with a simple pen.
I face demons,
cowards who run away
when enlightenment’s sword swings.
From journals and dreams come
imagination’s fuel;
brand new thoughts,
ideas, concepts and expectations,
inundating my psyche.
Archangel Gabriel’s generosity is
nectar for my soul;
honey for my spirit.
Healing s best part,
my imagination soars to
prodigious dimensions,
where I create universes
all my very own;
My worlds.
Some days the poems literally flow
Can't hit the keys fast enough
Other days the struggle is so immense
We find it extremely tough
The creative process is a fickle thing
It can fill you with so much joy
But at times it can drive you insane
Your faith it tends to destroy
Feels like you'll never ever write again
You've used up all your words
For the rest of you're life, no more poems
They've flown like a flock of birds
Then you wake one day, your head overflows
Again, you can't type fast enough
Crazy is what I call this creative process
But love it no matter how tough,
Every single thing we enjoy -
whether it touches sight, hearing,
sense of smell, or the working
of hands and feet - was given
by the God who created us.
Before man thought to produce art,
manufacture goods, or write stories,
poetry or music, God put all the raw
materials in our minds and hands,
all we would ever need -
then waited for us to develop
sensitivity to his leading
and the responsiveness
which produces obedience. Those who
achieve the greatest success and
benefit mankind most are ones
who hear that inner voice,
that spark within, listen
with their hearts, and follow.
Some days the poems literally flow
Can't hit the keys fast enough
Other days the struggle is so immense
We find it extremely tough
The creative process is a fickle thing
It can fill you with so much joy
But at times it can drive you literally insane
Your faith it tends to destroy
Feels like you'll never ever write again
You've used up all your words
For the rest of you're life, no more poems
They've flown like a flock of birds
Then you wake one day, your head overflows
Again, you can't type fast enough
Crazy is what I call this creative process
But love it no matter how tough
© Jack Ellison 2013
Writing just for the sake of writing alone
Will never appear as sincere
Should be spontaneous free flowing verse
Simple rules with which to adhere
You'll soon experience the creative passion
Flowing unimpeded through your veins
Soaring to the heavens on a gentle zephyr
Feelings of exaltation will reign
No other words describe it so simply
Just write when the feelings surge
A simple prompt and off to the heavens
Reacting to the signs that urge
To the uninspired I offer condolences
Can't imagine a life without rhyme
A rudderless ship cast adrift on the ocean
Oblivious to a world so sublime
So writing for the sake of writing alone
Sure won't appear as sincere
Hopefully the urge will hit you one day
You'll know this passion I hold dear
© Jack Ellison 2013
To envision is key
To create is progressive
To admire is satisfaction
To envision is moving
To create is flying
To admire is landing
To envision is expansion
To create is application
To admire is remembrance
To envision is involvement
To create is freedom
To admire is realization
To envision is creation
To create is admiration
To admire is envisioning
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