From The SFC Prompt ALLUVIAL MINING- Looking under rocks for ideas
I was never a grave digger, but I did learn as I watched a gravedigger use a back hoe to break ground for a grave that it’s a skill a not unlike the one I was learning at the time.
The modern day digger could bring this smallish piece of heavy machinery into a cemetery, navigate it down the little drive that was really only big enough for cars to proceed one by one, he could raise it’s arm up through the trees ( without breaking a branch or knocking off leaves ) that shaded some of the graves- then he did his part and before you could say ” Bob’s your Uncle ” he’d be done and gone before anyone saw him because let’s face it, how would that look to a family seeing their loved one off?
Frankly, I was amazed. I can’t even use a weed wacker without getting the line tangled up or hacking some poor innocent plant to death and here was this grave digger at work during the day opening a grave like a Ninja.
Did I find that inspiring? Did the writer in me see something, did she learn something?
Oh. Yes. I did. And I’m still dining off those moments to this day.
Some moments, when you can step back and let them open up and play in front of you are so full of sights and sounds and color and textures it’s possible to feel overwhelmed. So soak it in and record it anyway you can and squirrel it away for future consumption.
Today I wrote a poem that was stark and brutal- the prompt itself encouraged us to write a poem about our origins and where we thought we were going:
We’d like to challenge you to write a poem of origin. Where are you from? Not just geographically, but emotionally, physically, spiritually? Maybe you are from Vikings and the sea and diet coke and angry gulls in parking lots. Maybe you are from gentle hills and angry mothers and dust disappearing down an unpaved road. And having come from there, where are you now?
I guess I was wondering, how could I take my life- which was pretty much over before it began- let’s just say I was never expected to do much or matter much and I haven’t.
So how do I dress that up?
I didn’t dress it up. Not even a little. It turned out a lot of people liked it-which honestly surprised me:
I’m Not A Viking, That’s For Damn SURE
I came from nothing
I going nowhere
I am from the worst house on the street
surrounded by fences topped with
jagged barbs called ‘words’.
I am from the town of
‘Settled For Less”
hidden in the county of
” Good For Nothing.”
I came from nowhere
and I am going nowhere
that’s where I am from
and that’s where I will stay.
So why did people like such an angry poem? Aren’t poems about love and passion and perfection in form and clever turns of phrase?
Pablo Picasso “We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth, at least the truth that is given to us to understand.”
In the end though, I am really inspired as a writer by stories- all kinds if stories from a buffet of sources. My family loved to tell stories, especially ghost stories. I loved to read I love to listen to music. I’m not picky about the quality, I just want something to whisper into my ear and I want it to give me the chills and I want it to light my brain up and make me glad that I am a writer:
Okay, I found that clip awesome so I wanted to share it and I did.
But seriously, did I find it inspiring? Will I write a story or a poem about the feeling it gave me, or will that tattoo above his hip end up making an appearance one day because I was sitting there thinking as I write…now what, now what?
It will happen, it always does.
Like I said, take it in give it a home and see where those images and impressions take you.
I’ve mined for ideas in all sorts of places and what I wrote about here were three in particular- my own experiences, writing prompts and going over books and stories and art and music that I enjoy with the goal of learning something new and becoming a creative person with something fun to share.
For your consideration: