The wings are symbolic of freedom. To me writing is the most important kind of art because words live. To me, ink meets paper to create something spiritual. Not only can we see the beauty of words, but we can feel it. I would define my style of writing, poetry or otherwise, as poetic justice because I am always seeking to free people, to include myself, from the limited ways we tend to think and to feel. This is not always an easy task and so as I write, the keystrokes are heavy with the responsibility my purpose carries. The weight of the kinds of things that I write always looms in the background of the page as if daring me to go on. And this is always the moment when I know that I must.
Welcome back to another episode of Writer’s Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge as hosted by Colleen of Silver Threading and Ronovan of Ronovan Writes. Now, I drafted this post as a piece of creative writing in general at first as part of another prompt. Then I thought to myself, “Wonder what the writing theme is today?” That’s when I went to Colleens blog and found Mystery. “Cool! I was already writing about the mysterious fog.” So, below is my creative piece and writer’s quote.
Dear fog, your kind of a mystery. I mean, what’s going on in there? I imagine its like when the clouds rise from their heavenly thrones like marching bands just to see what the ground feels like. Like when angels bow and secret themselves in the blanket of the air. Something familiar enough for the humans to recognize without fear. Fog. That moment when spirit meets earth in search of its other half. Floating its way through time wrapped in clouds and smelling of forever. I wonder if we become one with eternity just by walking through you. Like hands dipped in hope; the smell of expectation against our noses; a taste of courage on our tongues.
I think the Earth and everything around it is connected – the sky and the planets and the stars and everything else we see as a mystery.
Welcome back to another episode of Writer’s Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge. As you may notice, I have decided to go back to the traditional WQW for now. You can imagine my excitement when Colleen stated this was OK. If you can’t imagine it, below is my happy dance:
Yecheilyah’s Happy Dance
OK, to the point.
My inspiration today comes from James Baldwin:
“All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are forced, at last, to tell the whole story; to vomit the anguish up.”
― James Baldwin
I love Baldwin’s last line “Vomit the anguish Up”. At first I thought about struggle literally but then I thought about writing and combining the two. This got me thinking about the struggle of writing and struggles incorporated into writing. This lead me to Baldwin’s quote. It still has me pondering, but what I got out of it for now is how each artist, writer in this sense, have a responsibility to tell the truth and in so doing have the courage to speak whatever struggle that truth reveals. This struggle can be historical, personal, or emotional but at some point a writer has to dig deep. I think this is because good writing is about the struggle and how said struggle has been survived. It could be the villain’s survival, the heroes survival, or the writer him / herself. Why? Well, that’s real life. Struggle makes people strong. Where is the overcoming if not for the struggle?
“James Baldwin — the grandson of a slave — was born in Harlem in 1924. The oldest of nine children, he grew up in poverty, developing a troubled relationship with his strict, religious stepfather. As a child, he cast about for a way to escape his circumstances. As he recalls, “I knew I was black, of course, but I also knew I was smart. I didn’t know how I would use my mind, or even if I could, but that was the only thing I had to use.” By the time he was fourteen, Baldwin was spending much of his time in libraries and had found his passion for writing.
During this early part of his life, he followed in his stepfather’s footsteps and became a preacher. Of those teen years, Baldwin recalled, “Those three years in the pulpit – I didn’t realize it then – that is what turned me into a writer, really, dealing with all that anguish and that despair and that beauty.” Many have noted the strong influence of the language of the church, the language of the Bible, on Baldwin’s style: its cadences and tone. Eager to move on, Baldwin knew that if he left the pulpit he must also leave home, so at eighteen he took a job working for the New Jersey railroad.
After working for a short while with the railroad, Baldwin moved to Greenwich Village, where he worked for a number of years as a freelance writer, working primarily on book reviews. He caught the attention of the well-known novelist, Richard Wright – and though Baldwin had not yet finished a novel, Wright helped him secure a grant with which he could support himself as a writer. In 1948, at age 24, Baldwin left for Paris, where he hoped to find enough distance from the American society he grew up in to write about it.
After writing a number of pieces for various magazines, Baldwin went to a small village in Switzerland to finish his first novel. Go Tell It on the Mountain, published in 1953, was an autobiographical work about growing up in Harlem. The passion and depth with which he described the struggles of black Americans were unlike anything that had been written. Though not instantly recognized as such, Go Tell It on the Mountain has long been considered an American classic.”
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That’s it for me. I hope you enjoyed this weeks Writer’s Quote Wednesday Segment. Until next week, yall be great.
For this weeks episode of Writer’s Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge, as hosted by Ronovan of Ronovan Writes and Colleen of Silver Threading, I am inspired by the wisdom of Jimi Hendricks. I have decided (obviously) to use today’s theme “Wisdom” and have written also a poem to accompany today’s quote titled, “The Light”.
“Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens”
― Jimi Hendrix
The Light
Ain’t nobody got time
For the sun
Got no time to be spendin
Burning hands
And fingertips
Reaching for the light
Everybody got an opinion
Tongues itch in the dark
And unfold like ancient paper
Because everybody knows
And yet no one listens
For the language of the sun
Everyone thirsts
But no one drinks
Everyone speaks
But no one thinks
Cause ain’t nobody got time
For the sun
Got no time to be spending
Burning hands
And fingertips
And tongues
On the sun
On the truth
On the light
The wings are symbolic of freedom. To me writing is the most important kind of art because words live. To me, ink meets paper to create something spiritual. Not only can we see the beauty of words, but we can feel it. I would define my style of writing, poetry or otherwise, as poetic justice because I am always seeking to free people, to include myself, from the limited ways we tend to think and to feel. This is not always an easy task and so as I write, the keystrokes are heavy with the responsibility my purpose carries. The weight of the kinds of things that I write always looms in the background of the page as if daring me to go on. And this is always the moment when I know that I must.
The PBS Blog 