Stunning, Ann. The music is indeed a perfect accompaniment to your luminous writing. I love your image of the poem as an underpainting. That idea would make a wonderful writing prompt for a workshop. (Hmmm 🤔) And your questions at the end will surely spark some deep reflection. Especially, where do ideas live before we think them? I think of them in a sort of cosmic green room, patiently waiting for us to tune in and listen with our hearts.
I'm so glad you liked this one, Julie. Music adds emotion and life to words like nothing else. I really love to write to it--especially with the same song on repeat. Minor Fossil's Nocturne made a room for me to work inside. I could see the dark forest and the Moon especially in the brass section. Moth in the bright keyboards. The process is so meditative for me. A luxury.
And yes, I kept thinking of Edgar's image of the slow writhing paper boat--ahhhh glorious. I just let it keep floating beneath the page, and it made telling the story so much easier. A poem like his is magic in the way it conjures an image that wanted & needed to exist. It's a gift that gets shared. Now we all get to own something priceless. Maybe Devin Kelly said that? But it's so true for me.
I love your vision of a cosmic green room--yeah, that seems about right to me. Ideas are not trapped in our heads. They are everywhere. xo
I read it on a train ride home, in a brief breathing room of a busy day. It landed well!
I have a question for you. In your creative process, do you picture anything/-one in particular that you're writing to? You usually address it with "Dear Ones," but I wonder if you have any deeper thoughts about that.
It's a subject I've been thinking about lately, so I was just curious what your approach is. Your writing always feels very directed to the reader.
Or maybe it's one of those things that's hard to answer. :)
Thank you, Hasse, I’ve asked myself this question many times. I feel there is an intimacy between writer and reader that is something so sacred. I feel unworthy of the miracle of it every single time. And I have to find a way to put those doubts aside, to have the audacity to press “send.” Yes, everything I write is for one person, and written with great love. It’s meant to be shared one-on-one. One mind very tenderly befriending another.
That is beautiful, Ann. I understand that notion that there is something audacious about putting something out there. In fact, that kept me from doing it for many years.
I get the sense that you almost view the reader as someone both completely specific, and yet completely undefinable.
Rumi's poems were supposedly often like tributes to a friend he had had and lost, and how their conversations would flow, long into the night. Examples like that has got me thinking about that aspect of the writing process.
Thanks for sharing. It is always interesting to learn about how other people do it.
Here I am reading poems and thoughts on moth life when my nightmares revolve around them. Especially, after having experienced moth infestation. The luna moth is spectacular and I like how you intertwined the facts and poetry. Beautiful.
Now to your other question on how we find inspiration and what it is that makes poetry sing. Reading and learning is definitely a source of inspiration and in particularly work that is different to your own. I often write about inspiration and how it's found because it's a learned experience in a way unlike what many might think that it just hits you one day. As for the latter part of the question, I think that's going to fall under the readers' field. What makes a poem sing is how it's received and how readership relates to what you've written, simply put. But it's a question that you could write a whole post about.
Pilgrim, I'm touched that you read about moths and found some beauty here, especially given your understandable aversion to them. Thank you for your open heart. I love insects outside, but have no qualms about escorting them out of my house...sometimes I tell them "sorry, but you have the whole outdoors!" :-) Lunas are so amazing. I agree that inspiration is a learned practice of noticing what causes strong emotion or curiosity to well up in the heart. I just start with a tiny spark of awe and then soak it in some gorgeous music. What comes out the other side, pleases me after I keep squeezing it down to what I really feel. And if one other person connects to it and receives it with love, then that completes the circuit for me. that's everything. I appreciate your taking time to tell me how this one spoke to you.
When I found out they had no mouths, it really touched me. Only seven nights to fly. But that's seven more than we get, right? Thank you for reading, my dear friend and neighbor.
Ann every word you submit to your beautiful prose and poetry stories is like a song already, an ethereal and yes, as Julie says below, luminous ode to nature and all the secret parts most of us don't see or even imagine. Minor Fossil's music is both enhancing and entrancing, sending us deeper into you world of tiny miracles... thank you, this was exquisite in every way. 🦋x
Thank you, Ann, for always leading me to experience the natural world with depth and a renewed awareness of its beauty. Your choice of the accompanying music infused it with magic for me. 🦋💚
Roseanne, I’m always so thankful for your wholehearted reading. Minor Fossil’s song added so much to my story. The writing was immersive and luxurious with a soundscape like this. I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend!
Dear Ann, each story you write is a gift. I'm drawn to the tenderness and soulfulness of your words. You remind me to spend my wingbeats wisely, to go where I'm pulled, to plant seeds (or lay eggs) that will nourish lives after mine is over. It's Thanksgiving day, and I want you to know that I'm grateful for you.
Stunning, Ann. The music is indeed a perfect accompaniment to your luminous writing. I love your image of the poem as an underpainting. That idea would make a wonderful writing prompt for a workshop. (Hmmm 🤔) And your questions at the end will surely spark some deep reflection. Especially, where do ideas live before we think them? I think of them in a sort of cosmic green room, patiently waiting for us to tune in and listen with our hearts.
I'm so glad you liked this one, Julie. Music adds emotion and life to words like nothing else. I really love to write to it--especially with the same song on repeat. Minor Fossil's Nocturne made a room for me to work inside. I could see the dark forest and the Moon especially in the brass section. Moth in the bright keyboards. The process is so meditative for me. A luxury.
And yes, I kept thinking of Edgar's image of the slow writhing paper boat--ahhhh glorious. I just let it keep floating beneath the page, and it made telling the story so much easier. A poem like his is magic in the way it conjures an image that wanted & needed to exist. It's a gift that gets shared. Now we all get to own something priceless. Maybe Devin Kelly said that? But it's so true for me.
I love your vision of a cosmic green room--yeah, that seems about right to me. Ideas are not trapped in our heads. They are everywhere. xo
I really enjoyed this! As I read I felt as though I were Moth, flying through life, in search of all that is. Thank you for sharing. 😊
Sam, this makes me so happy. Poets can fly, after all--right? You certainly can. Thanks so much for reading here. 😊
A wonderful story. I was particularly moved by the line 'Here, flew Two, who carried tomorrow in their wings' - sublime.
Thank you for sharing🙏
Thank you, Ralph. When I try to imagine 200 tiny eggs, I feel in awe of the extreme generosity of our beautiful world. 💛
Your poetry and storytelling are a real love letter to nature, Ann. You really capture it, and allow us to do the same. :)
Great piece!
Aw, Hasse! Thank you for seeing what I'm hoping to show. We are so loved.
I read it on a train ride home, in a brief breathing room of a busy day. It landed well!
I have a question for you. In your creative process, do you picture anything/-one in particular that you're writing to? You usually address it with "Dear Ones," but I wonder if you have any deeper thoughts about that.
It's a subject I've been thinking about lately, so I was just curious what your approach is. Your writing always feels very directed to the reader.
Or maybe it's one of those things that's hard to answer. :)
Thank you, Hasse, I’ve asked myself this question many times. I feel there is an intimacy between writer and reader that is something so sacred. I feel unworthy of the miracle of it every single time. And I have to find a way to put those doubts aside, to have the audacity to press “send.” Yes, everything I write is for one person, and written with great love. It’s meant to be shared one-on-one. One mind very tenderly befriending another.
That is beautiful, Ann. I understand that notion that there is something audacious about putting something out there. In fact, that kept me from doing it for many years.
I get the sense that you almost view the reader as someone both completely specific, and yet completely undefinable.
Rumi's poems were supposedly often like tributes to a friend he had had and lost, and how their conversations would flow, long into the night. Examples like that has got me thinking about that aspect of the writing process.
Thanks for sharing. It is always interesting to learn about how other people do it.
💛
Absolutely gorgeous, Ann.
Thank you, Angela. I had such a gorgeous time working on it. A total joy.
So beautiful, Ann. I love the way you zoom into the smallest, exquisite detail in your writing and illuminate it for the rest of us.
Thank you, my friend. The greatest from the least is an irresistible idea. A single butterfly egg contains eternity . . .
Here I am reading poems and thoughts on moth life when my nightmares revolve around them. Especially, after having experienced moth infestation. The luna moth is spectacular and I like how you intertwined the facts and poetry. Beautiful.
Now to your other question on how we find inspiration and what it is that makes poetry sing. Reading and learning is definitely a source of inspiration and in particularly work that is different to your own. I often write about inspiration and how it's found because it's a learned experience in a way unlike what many might think that it just hits you one day. As for the latter part of the question, I think that's going to fall under the readers' field. What makes a poem sing is how it's received and how readership relates to what you've written, simply put. But it's a question that you could write a whole post about.
Pilgrim, I'm touched that you read about moths and found some beauty here, especially given your understandable aversion to them. Thank you for your open heart. I love insects outside, but have no qualms about escorting them out of my house...sometimes I tell them "sorry, but you have the whole outdoors!" :-) Lunas are so amazing. I agree that inspiration is a learned practice of noticing what causes strong emotion or curiosity to well up in the heart. I just start with a tiny spark of awe and then soak it in some gorgeous music. What comes out the other side, pleases me after I keep squeezing it down to what I really feel. And if one other person connects to it and receives it with love, then that completes the circuit for me. that's everything. I appreciate your taking time to tell me how this one spoke to you.
Thank you Ann, so beautiful 🙏
Thank you for saying so, dear Vanessa. Much love to you 💛
Ann, this is so very beautiful. It brought tears. What a miracle, this moth of green fire.
When I found out they had no mouths, it really touched me. Only seven nights to fly. But that's seven more than we get, right? Thank you for reading, my dear friend and neighbor.
It brought me to tears too!
Butterfly wings and skeletal things have never been so enchanting. This well-crafted story and accompanying music combine to provide a sensory treat.
I draft on your enjoyment, Kim! So glad you enjoyed this.
I now look at moths with different eyes thanks to you Ann. Beautiful.
That is the loveliest compliment. Thank you, Shital 💛💛💛
Beautiful story. Thanks again Ann!
Thank you Philip! What a dream to write while immersed in this glorious music.🎵💛
Ann every word you submit to your beautiful prose and poetry stories is like a song already, an ethereal and yes, as Julie says below, luminous ode to nature and all the secret parts most of us don't see or even imagine. Minor Fossil's music is both enhancing and entrancing, sending us deeper into you world of tiny miracles... thank you, this was exquisite in every way. 🦋x
So much love to you, Susie! Your encouragement is very much needed and I appreciate you 🙏💛
An intriguing and inspiring ode to the voyage of life, combining art forms that intensify the impact of your gentle message. Thank you!
Thank you, Vincent. I love the way you say that. I’m so glad it worked for you in this special way.
Thank you, Ann, for always leading me to experience the natural world with depth and a renewed awareness of its beauty. Your choice of the accompanying music infused it with magic for me. 🦋💚
Roseanne, I’m always so thankful for your wholehearted reading. Minor Fossil’s song added so much to my story. The writing was immersive and luxurious with a soundscape like this. I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend!
Dear Ann, each story you write is a gift. I'm drawn to the tenderness and soulfulness of your words. You remind me to spend my wingbeats wisely, to go where I'm pulled, to plant seeds (or lay eggs) that will nourish lives after mine is over. It's Thanksgiving day, and I want you to know that I'm grateful for you.
Anne, I’m thankful for your loving support and the kindness you give so freely! Happy Thanksgiving to you! 💛