Two years ago, I was pulled outside by strange morning light. Shadows on the grass and concrete told me something was happening in the sky. A pink hue spread over everything like a blanket. In my bare feet and pajamas, I stepped into our backyard. The usual view of ugly power lines obstructing the view was transformed. I whipped out my iPhone, snapped a photo, and wrote a haiku across the lines.
I realized that writing across those power lines was a metaphor for the writing life, a reminder that the process of putting words on the page requires that we see the good and bad bits of our everyday lives in a new light.
As a Californian, I have a love/hate relationship with power lines. They fall on parched grass and spark fires that destroy and kill. They also bring us the electricity that juices up our appliances and devices. But on that cold morning, my three backyard power lines held more than electrical power. They transmitted creative energy with an invitation to write poetry.
Yet another reminder that two things can be true at one time.
That’s why my Substack is named Power Lines. After all, I’m a writing teacher and when the universe serves up an illuminating metaphor, it’s a sin to ignore it!
A couple weeks ago, when I was supposed to be working on a project that was hurting my head, I stared out my office window and watched rain fall during a storm.
Whether it was authentic inspiration or creative avoidance, I let that marginal view crisscrossed with power lines offer writing ideas. While I don’t think I’ll ever be one to suffer from toxic positivity, I believe the practice of re-seeing ugly stuff as beautiful doesn’t hurt. There are some things I can control and most I cannot. The view from my office isn’t going to be free of power lines any time soon. I might as well live with it in a way that reminds me to be inspired.
Here are three haiku that brought light to a damp and dreary day in February.
Your Invitation
Find something ugly. Write about it. Haiku worked for me, but you do you. Freewrites, poems, or paragraphs are fine. Set a ten-minute timer and let the words flow without worrying about punctuation or spelling.
Let ugly inspire beauty so two things can be true at the same time.
There’s a place to share in our chat. Your words can make that space beautiful too.
The third annual Poetry Pie Writing Challenge is coming soon! Details in the March 21st Substack. I can’t wait to write haiku with you—anyone can do it. It’s a great way to put your toe in the poetry pond!
The March Women’s Mini Retreat and the April Once-in-a-While Book Club are both sold out. Email (LorrieTom@LorrieT.com) if you’d like to be put on the waiting lists for future offerings.
Great Prompt. Thanks for new perspective!
my window, you
are too small, too high
but you frame the stars
I hate the windows in our house. The stupid people who renovated the house put in these tiny windows that are half the size of all the other houses in our development. They drive me crazy. So it was a challenge to find the beauty. And yet I've been making it a project to look out my window whenever I pass to find something beautiful outside to contemplate. And today we were talking about apostrophe and Homer and apostrophizing inanimate objects. It felt right to address my window directly to give it a piece of my mind.