…one of these first lines. I’m just making them up as I go along. Use them if you can…

in the wild days of

if you could tell me what and where

sara, you only have my heart

dancing on the heads of an infinity of angels

you could never

I want to swab your cotton mouth with my tongue.

this doesn’t really fit in anything i’m writing right now, but i like it.

Family. The word brings so much to mind. Familiar. What we know. What you grew up with. Who you have become. My family turns up often in my writing, in poems for my children, about growing up, about the relationships with my brothers that have grown throughout the years. Write a love letter (or a rant) to your family – or just one family member. Post a link to your poem in a comment here so we can come read it!

I found this great post on finding your muse at Creative Latitude. The author is a graphic and web designer, but his tips for finding your muse work for anyone. Among them…

Shake up your muse by doing things differently (one of my personal favorites)
Take your muse to the gym (because working out gets the creative juices flowing)
Listen to music (because it soothes the savage muse)
Find a kid (because they have such a fresh way of seeing things)

Check out what else he has to say and maybe some of it will rub off.

Sometimes it helps to do things differently. To drink a hot chai. To go for a walk. To stand on your head. Miscellaneous tips for getting your muse to peek out of her house go here…

I’ve just been scribbling a lot the last couple of days. I’ve had so much mental stimulous that I almost can’t actually formulate anything new except snippets of ideas. But this line (lines?) keeps bouncing into my brain. It’s not ready to be born into a whole poem, but maybe someone else can coax it out.

He has always been
New York
to me…
the place I assume I
will someday end up
or always wonder
what if?

stake out your local open mic venue. sit in the back and just jot down fragments that make your ears prick up. if your ears don’t normally prick up then either (a) your venue sucks, (b) you’re genetically deformed, or (c) you’re not listening close enough.* take 1 of those fragments and use it as a first line.

1 night at the Cantab Lounge, I wrote down something and this poem emerged from it. feel free to steal “I dream the bomb” or, better, steal your own first line.

If I Should Die Before I Wake
I Pray the Lord my Soul to Take

I dream the bomb
it’s hard not to
with Cold War parents
A Canticle for Leibowitz
the scene in Terminator 2
that’s all Sarah Connor
fence shockwave

I dream the bomb
machined graphite
crosshair fins
ball blunt shark nose

I dream
the bomb’s energies
flash fire
whistle crescendo
tear silk screen skin
before I wake

*remember, C’s usually the Correct answer.

“Exiled

Searching my heart for its true sorrow,
This is the thing that I find to be:
That I am weary of words and people,
Sick of the city, wanting the sea;”

That stanza comes from St. Vincent Millay’s “Second April”. I have a copy of this book from 1921. These lines have always struck me. Weary of words and people, I have found myself that way many many times. And like dear Edna I have found comfort and inspiration from the sea. I, like her, have spent many summers on the coast of Maine. But you need not book that flight to our most northeastern state to find that kind of inspiration. Look around. Is there a mountain nearby that could be hiked, a pond to be sat next to, a park to sit under an old tree? I think that it is about finding your peaceful spot. In that spot, when I let quiet sit with me, I have found many a poem. But more importantly I have been able to hear my internal voice. She is often more calm than my daily over-booked life, but sometimes she also rages. Sometimes she sobs. When I truely listen to her voice I feel enriched, can i say powerful? Find your “sea”. Listen to the lap of the waves and carry a pen and pad for the moment when words flood you.

Sometimes I find it nearly impossible to write a full piece of anything. When that happens I get out my indext cards (well, really just an old notebook, but you will get the idea). I start writing one liners. here are some for you to run with.

The inside of a kiss

Your compromise was a yawn, foul mouthed and exhausting

Seven year old kills snake with her daddy’s pistol.

She is lazy about her emotional discipline.

See I can go to these indext cards (okay, really my coffee stained notebook) and pick something random to jog my mind. Maybe I write something and maybe I just find new lines to add to the list. Alot of my one liners come from over-heard conversations. Go out and sit in a public place and listen. Write down what you hear.

…a good book or three. There’s nothing to get a muse thinking like a good read. Poetry, philosophy, fiction – there’s plenty of words out there for your muse to chew on.