Tag: writer’s block

poem: sliver light

Silver light streamed
through clouds
pregnant with snow.
The fragile, warbling rays
were enough to turn
the white blanket
that so recently
conquered the landscape
into innumerable fallen stars.

Every tree branch
wore a coat of ice,
dazzling translucence.

The sight filled me
with profound joy.

For the first time
in weeks,
i felt the dance
of words and verse
move through my soul.


asha fenn, December 2017

i ask again

poem: writing’s work

Months ago,
something terrifying happened:
writing became hard.

Having word follow word
no longer felt effortless.
The flow of story
would wash over me,
not with the glorious
of a waterfall,
but like rapids –
filled with bumps and turns
and inconsistent quality
and speed.

Letters smashed artlessly
across the page.
i think they knew
i had lost faith in them.

My words must have known
that my fear
had left too many works
utterly forsaken –
story and novel
in boxes and harddrives.

So, they moved back,
away from my greedy hands.

They became coy,
hard to follow,
even harder to press down
onto the page.

They refused to cooperate
until i promised
to do better
by them.

Tonight, line follows line,
a marvelous orgy of poem
that might be a monument
to horrible, self-absorbed drivel.

i cannot judge,
because everything i do
feels woefully inadequate –
but, my heart
has begun to beat again
just because
of this glorious

During a pause
in this miracle,
i open up my hands,
palms heavenward,
and sing thanksgivings
that the river
has begun flowing

22 november 2015

Painting! Huzzah!

poetrytriptych1Yesterday, after dinner had been digested, I had washed off my make-up and changed into pajama bottoms, I put a whining dog in his jacket and on his leash and together we crept back out here to the studio.  While the dog slept, I painted.  The idea of a haiku being fused into a painting – using three panels to create one coherent whole of word and image – has been exciting my imagination.  I finished the painting I blogged about earlier (see left), then I started working on another even more shamelessly word-based poetry triptych.

In the meantime – and for no reason that I could fully define – I felt incredible waves of bravery that inspired me to finish the sea smoke on another painting and to pick up the image of a dancer dancer alt 320x480and start working on her again.  Before I knew it, yesterday had turned into today and I needed to wrap up the grumpy dog to make the trip back to the house in the wee hours of the morning.

Today, I started my “day off” by writing for a few hours this morning – poems that had been trapped within my skull too long, rattling around and demanding their freedom. Since it was freezing cold, I welcomed the extra time tucked in bed, warm under covers, just the tablet, the pen and my eyes exposed to the world. After lunch had been digested, I found myself dragging the bundled dog back to the studio again.  He snores from under a pile of blankets while I blog this blog and stare at the dancer painting still resting on the easel.

Of course, I have to throw. Bowls thrown yesterday need to be trimmed. 2014ashafenn0130I have 40 plates that need to be fired, and nothing to go with them for the thermocouple shelves (which, to use the space best, need to be reasonably tall pieces) and a gallery crying for large bowls.  This is a no-brainer.  Moreover, I have commissions to finish.

But, even with all that looming, I know that throwing a couple of bags of clay will take no more than two hours.

When I am done with the pottery-work, or before I get started with it, I think I will let myself get back to the glories of painting.