flail about in search of a tool to
pry open Creativity's Caponian vault.
Laid open the vault contains only
inexact sentence fragments too coarse to hold
aloft, to be deemed worthy of admiration.
No, my Creativity lies wasted like
diseased, arthritic bones with their
marrow sucked dry.
But Creativity never really dies, instead
arthritic, marrow-dry coarseness waits
to be healed, watered, refined,
reborn.
This week's psuedo-angst filled poem inspired by the words:
Flail
Pry
Inexact
Aloft
Disease
Words courtesy of. . .
Word Beads is a weekly writing meme. The challenge is to string the week's five chosen "words below with other words of your choosing to fashion a sentence, several sentences, a paragraph, several paragraphs, a poem, or even a short story." The word sets are generated automatically by a Perl script which draws words at random from a list of approximately 9,000 English words.
9 comments:
oh wow ~ incredible!! and exactly where my thoughts were this morning ~ your creativity is inspiring!!
I love this.
It also sounds like our creative impulses are traveling in tandem.
-t
Beautiful...
Simply Beautiful...
Job well done, Lady Lue.
I thought your angst was sincere, not pseudo.
This is meant as a complement though it could be mis-interpreted to the contrary.
Word Beads. Wow. Very cool.
Everyone... aw shucks! Thanks ever so much for the compliments.
Alpha Dogma: I called it pseudo angst because while I was wrestling with my creativity, it did seem a wee bit melodramatic. I didn't want anyone feeling the need to light a prayer candle on my behalf or anything! ;)
I love the word beads!
I wish I had more control over my creativity that seems to do whatever it wants with a mind of it's own....
I like your word beads :)
Awesome... sounds exactly like I've been feeling, too.
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