I wonder as I wander, but I’m not really wandering, just wondering

One of my most productive days is when I am sitting in a quiet classroom watching students take standardized tests. Something about that non-creative environment stokes the fires of my creativity. Like wild horses who have broken through an unstable wooden fence, my thoughts take off at some point during the testing period and I run chasing after them, just trying to get everything down on paper.

I didn’t know I’d be giving a test today. It’s summer school. Standardized testing in summer school? Yep.

So today, I was in a hot, stuffy gym watching a group of students sweating over comma splices, similes, metaphors, and point-of-view questions and…Nothing.

Nothing.

No thing.

No.

Nothing was coming to me. And I freaked out. Why wasn’t anything coming to me? My gaze continually traveled over the desks, the faces of the students, the walls, the windows, the graffiti, and…nothing.

Only God can judge me. My eyes read the tattoo on his arm over and over again. For some reason, there was a stack of copy paper on the table next to me. I pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote those words down. Then I wrote down a few other lines to go with that line. And, suddenly, the gush of words flowed to me. Someone stepped off the water hose and the words broke free.

By the end, I had finished the short story that I’ve been working on. And I had a poem written. That poem was crap. But crap has the potential to be polished later on and sparkle on the page. Right? Right. So, I’ll add that to my creative writing journal, but I won’t be sharing that one.

After the students had finished testing, I continued to doodle and the doodles became words that became lines, that became stanzas and, voila, I had composed a poem:

If hope were dope, I’d
get high off you. I’d
smoke your dreams and
send them back to you
with wings and a small
flame to set those
dreams on fire.

 

If love were a flame, it
would burn my insides,
consume my inner being,
set me on fire, keep my
desires and your dreams
from going up in smoke.

 

If peace were clouds
in the sky, I’d seek them out
always. Want to rest in
the shade of the magical
days of us, days where I
can luxuriate in your
presence. Us 2 alone.

 

If smiles were the sun,
the warmth of your
smile would dry up my
tears, decrease the sum
of my fears. Basking in
the rays of the sun of
your smile, I won’t need
protection. SPF 2, will do
just fine. Just me and you.

I don’t have a title yet, but today was productive. And I just love productive days. One thing a day until my dreams have finally come true. Happy reading, writing, music making, poem writing, story writing, gourmet meal cooking…whatever you spend today doing!

Peace & Love,

Rosalind

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About Rosalind Guy

I'm broken & my soul is weary/ my weary soul rebels, fights/ anything & anyone who tries to heal me/I beat my head against a wall of memories/ trying hard to break free from the chain of memories/ I can only be free by saying it so/ i weave a necklace from words and finally/ I find freedom/ free free free. As you can see, words are powerful to me. As Maya Angelou said, words are wallpaper of the soul. I have lots of nightmarish memories that threaten to break me, but I learned a long time ago about the power of words. They can be used to heal and destroy anything that threatens to destroy the person. Words coupled with love have the power to save and heal. I am author of three books: Skinny Dipping in the Pool of Womanhood, Tattered Butterfly Wings, and Blues of a Love Junkie. I am a high school English teacher. I am a former reporter. I am a mother. I am a woman. I am a fierce advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves, those who's voices go unheard. Check out my Amazon author page at the following link: http://www.amazon.com/Rosalind-Guy/e/B00BGH5F88/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1432491754&sr=8-1.
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