Monday, April 30, 2012

Creative Cycle

What happens when you’re cold and dead
to all the words that you have read,
the stories floating in your head,
the inked-up pages you have bled?

Discover now that I'm resigned
to think our words are reassigned.
Like spirit, they can’t be confined
but born inside another’s mind.

© Ginny Brannan April 2012

image by Manu Pombrol












Shared at The Mag #115 -- image from Tess Kincaid.
She provides the image, we provide the story!

10 comments:

  1. i guess my comment earlier did not take...it is like ancient storytelling, tales passed down generation to generation....myths...our stories do carry forward if we tell them...i hope to leave a few for my children to pass on to their children, you know...smiles.

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  2. Very beautiful take on the prompt... i especially loved the lines-
    "Like spirit, they can’t be confined
    but born inside another’s mind."

    When you drown in your crystal clear tears.

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  3. I like the concept of our words being reassigned .. prompted me to think about the parallel universe theory as well.

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  4. I hope whoever gets reassigned my words has a sense of humour! LOL. Lovely whimsical idea...

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  5. Im with you on this one Ginny, Jungs collective unconscious , here we all come . Great concept.

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  6. What a fabulous idea! Sure beats sharing thoughts with my identical twin this side of the astral plane!

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  7. Great write! Right to he image!

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  8. Yummy rhythm and rhyme here...

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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.