someone at one of the poetry sites I visit issued a challenge to write about creativity--I took it to mean creativity as it applies to verse--here is what oozed out when I accepted the challenge (the scatological nature of this will be of no surprise to those who know me) since you asked if I manage to step barefoot in a large enough pile of dog dung, I might be able to find a metaphor, either in the tracks I left or in the cracks between my toes if I sniff with enough finesse, a simile may sift its way upward from the ambitious heap, like grandiose molecules ascending to heaven, or at least to my nose if my ears are keenly tuned, the squishing sound may be sibilantly sublime, or be alive with rhyme, or paint pious pictures if synesthesia suddenly ensues what was the question again? creativity? I yet need a different pile of dung, from perhaps another beast, for the canine is likely tired of my verbose purloining from the gift he left eagerly on the greedy ground
Posted on: Sat, 20 Sep 2014 21:26:01 +0000
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