Inspiration again

I think it’s interesting how one poem can just roll down the nearual connections leading from my brain, down my arm, and all the way to my writing fingertips without really feeling like I did any work at all, when the next poem I try to write takes fifteen attempts and nearly twenty four hours of reflection in order to get a final piece I’m happy with. It’s all about inspiration. It was easy to write the first poem—about a bee stinging me—because I had gotten stung that day. Easy enough. But it is not always so easy to pull up inspiration and know what I really want to write about. Maybe the assignment was a little harder too—I don’t know. But I think it might be helpful to carry around a notebook or a piece of paper or just a pen and some skin. Then, whenever that inspiring moment hits me, I’ll have something to write it down with.

Inspiration is sometimes hard to come by. I feel that by searching too hard for it, I might lose sight of a moment that might be worth remembering. Every moment seems to fly by us so quickly, especially here at college where we are always looking forward to the next assignment that’s due, the next big party, the next time we see our long distance significant others, or whatever the case may be. I find that we as a society are always saying things like, “Hey, look at that, it’s practically six o’clock already,” when in reality it’s something like 5:40. In general, we rush ourselves through our lives and forget to notice those moments that our ancestral humans could have spent entire lifetimes pondering.