Poetic Inkwells and More

  by Clara Mitchell I’m on break between stanzas.  I am so happy to be on break that I did some break dancing. There is a time to dance. (Ecclesiastes 3:4 KJV)  My Sudden outbursts of dancing lift my days. Break time is almost over. I begin to gather my notes.  Carefully I arrange each page, side by side for further review. I reach for my red pen, Remembering the former days of school Red ink revisions are ruthless Words that vie to live are removed.  Replacements await at each sweeping stroke,  I must prune my writing. God is the vine (John 15:5 KJV)  We are the branches.  It's in the pruning that we bear more fruit.  Pruning my writing affects me too.  It is hard to exchange a part of me.  The poets or any writer face periods of red ink.  The pruning is now over for the first draft.  Our creation is torn apart in a moment-- I rest now as in a score of music.  Silence fills the air.  I rest on each note written...