easy

yesterday was such a strange day. after the days of jazzy motion, i suddenly was out of the flow, just when i came across the idea to write a poem every morning for the remaining days of September and felt, it would be just fitting after the posts i already had made in oil on copper in the last days.

but would you guess it: the moment i planned to capture them, the words faded. yesterday really turned in one of the days when you have all kind of things and ideas in mind, and whatever you start doesn’t want to work out. not even the simple poem you thought you scribble in 5 minutes, and that calls you back again and again, and so you find yourself, fussing over 12 lines of a poem ad absurdum. changing and changing and changing it, and ending back at square one.

to add to it, my horoscope stated “what it all means” for the title of the day. which felt double odd, as it was a day of questions rather than of answers. in a black moment of humour, i attached the line to the poem that didn't want to fall into place. but then, maybe it wasn't supposed to. for what it did, at the end of the day, made me browse the "how to be creative" pages. and there it was, the line that felt like an explanation of what the day meant.

"Being good at anything is like figure skating- the definition of being good at it is being able to make it look easy. But it never is easy. Ever."

so i put the alarm early today. and wrote the poem of this day with the first cup of tea. on the way to the bakery, the thought followed that instead of just posting the poems here, i could send them out. look for a fitting e-zine for each of them. which adds the task of checking zines and writing submission mails to the plan. but then, why make it easy, anyway.