Poetry as a metaphorical art is all about connections, about synthesizing seemingly disparate things to show how they are at once like and unlike. Although
I have been contemplating a phrase from the Book of Common Prayer. Even as I read it silently, I hear this particular prayer sung in
Is “Coffee Shop Quirky” a legitimate literary genre? If it isn’t, then it ought to be, as that seems to be my niche. In honor of this most revered holiday, National Coffee Day, I would love to share an old short story of mine that celebrates the creative relationship between draughts and drafts, caffeination and imagination. After all, “A steaming beverage is often the friendliest of muses.”
In No Time to Spare, Le Guin seems to challenge Franklin’s pervasive, pernicious quote that we must “write something worth reading or do something worth writing about.” What is worth reading and writing about? Galaxies, journeys, and revolutions, certainly, but also cats, trees, and eggs. What is worth doing? Imagining different worlds, exploring important questions, and creating magnificent narratives, most definitely, but also caring for pets, cultivating traditions, and cooking breakfasts.
Badly pronounced words do not trouble me, for it indicates that the speaker is more used to reading and writing than talking. Badly used words, however, trouble me immensely.
Believers, like ballerinas, must daily strengthen themselves in truth, else we risk losing touch with the source of both grace and truth: Christ and His Gospel.