Daily Prompt <3 The Wound, The Light
15 July 2016
“Art is a wound turned into light.”~Georges Braque
Make art about the wound, about transforming pain into light.
Posts tagged ‘writing coach’
Daily Prompt <3 On Work
28 June 2016
“if you’re old enough to read this you know what work is”~Philip Levine
Make art about what work is.
Daily Prompt <3 Are We Prepared?
27 June 2016
This morning, keep thinking about, hearing, a line from a poem by my mentor and friend, the poet Liam Rector, from his poem “This Summer.”
“Our motto: Fight to live; prepare to go.”~Liam Rector
Make art about preparation, about being prepared. Or about fighting to live.
Still listenin, Big Dog. Still miss you.
You can read the full poem “This Summer” here.
Daily Prompt <3 What Will We Leave Behind?
26 June 2016
“I leave to you a curious loom,
That I have wrought my dreams upon;
I beg you lay your hand to it
and weave a pattern when I’m gone.”
~James Lovell
Make art about legacy.
Daily Prompt Love <3 Country Traffic Jam
25 June 2016
Encountered a little slow down on the road yesterday 🙂 Three calves had broken out and were gleefully chasing around, having a high old time 🙂
Make art about unexpected obstacles. 🙂 Or about unexpected freedom 🙂
Daily Prompt <3 See You Later, Arrivederci, Au Revoir, Auf Wiedersehen, Slán, Adiós
24 June 2016
Brexit.
Make art about choosing to leave, even when the choice leaves the future completely uncertain.
united kingdom exit from europe relative image
Daily Prompt <3 What Lightning Desires
23 June 2016
Wrote a poem this morning 🙂 Haven’t done that in a while 🙂 Called “The Girl Lightning Loved” 🙂
The Girl Lightning Loved
didn’t know how deeply she burned, was burned, her bones wicked through lifetime after lifetime….~Mary Carroll-Hackett
Make art about what lightning, about what lightning desires.
Daily Prompt Love <3
6/21/2016
I was raised Catholic, and in cultures that are very comfortable with the dead.
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace.
Amen.
Make art celebrating the dead. Or write a prayer for the dead.
6/22/2016
Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
‘Cause I’m going to make this place your home
Settle down, it’ll all be clear
Don’t pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you’re not alone
‘Cause I’m going to make this place your home
~written by Greg Holden and Drew Pearson, performed by Phillip Phillips
Make art about remembering you’re not alone.
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❤ ❤ ❤
Solstice Prompt <3 Memories of Lovers and the Body as Grace
20 June 2016
Here’s a solstice poem I wrote a few years ago, memory of a solstice back when I was a girl of eighteen, enchanted with a beautiful boy 🙂
This poem appears in my book If We Could Know Our Bones, from A-Minor Press ❤
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Remembering the Body as Grace
We all live in a house on fire. Tennessee Williams
1
I dream back the hot slow sky your body was above me, goldleafed and dappled in early sun, in those running heated days of baggy shorts, thin shoulder straps, loosed barefoot in the woods, where the world wore the soft warm pelts we tumbled in, skins multicolored scarfs we slid out of, slid into, each other. We were hungering home.
2
I wore some long breezy skirt, thinking Stevie Nicks would approve; in those days music made our maps, At a party to honor the March stars, I sat in your lap on Alan’s floor, after too much tequila, naming fish, aquarium after aquarium lining old apartment walls. Outside, a vernal moon split the day in two perfect halves, calling the first point of my Aries into startling alignment with your laugh.
3
Thirty-one suns have crossed the celestial equator since then, science and memory rearranging, the Earth’s elliptical orbit, bending, changing, precession, axis tugged in another direction. Spring even now is being reduced by one minute per year, singing as it goes. Naked to the native acre, bone-clear, the body knows what it knows.
4
Age has freed us from any need to hide, that sweet surrender of knowing celestial objects near the celestial equator are visible worldwide.
5
Assuming the body as love, my body remembers—you sleepy-eyed and unshaven, hair long, lit by light breaking into that space, where we tangled like sweet-sweating animals. What we didn’t know then, spring sliding home into summer, we do now, having worn these faces, lived in these skins, long enough to comprehend gravity as grace.
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Make art about a solstice memory, about the body as grace.
Mary Carroll-Hackett: Poetry and Prose 
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