Writing is to descend like a miner to the depths of the mine with a lamp on your forehead, a light whose dubious brightness falsifies everything, whose wick is in permanent danger of explosion, whose blinking illumination in the coal dust exhaust and corrodes your eyes. ~Blaise Cendrars
Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer’s loneliness but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day. ~Ernest Hemingway
Nihilism is best done by professionals. ~Iggy Pop
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Posted from the Grove:
A reminder that this week’s Word Game is taking place tomorrow (Mon, 06.10), instead of Thurs. Meeting time is the same 5pm PT / 8pm ET. This new day for meeting will be in effect thru’out the summer
Also, next week will be the last regularly scheduled newsletter for the summer. Twice monthly issues of the Wordgrove Post & Review will begin the first week in July. Guest editors are welcome. Pick a week, perhaps late summer, and spend a month or two crafting a polished edition. Have fun with it. It will be posted online at: https://wordgrovepost.wordpress.com
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Prewritten for Mon (tomorrow, 06/1o) 5 pm PT/8 ET is: whip, science
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@Writers Platform
Glass Table:
~Greenie: A Dream You Dream
Dreams wiser than the dreamer, flights of joy rising higher than flights of fancy, the blowback when dreams invade the world
~Wizardofoz: Heaven Can Wait
The last frontier and great Unknowable, dread it or face it with excitement; one hand raised, he’ll volunteer; yes he’ll go, but wouldn’t it be neat instead for live evidence to fall from the sky with real answers
~Stejovis: Various Sonnets (previously reviewed)
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Prewritten: write a sonnet
~Stejovis: in the manner of an Italian sonnet
Eagles fly the same space where imagination soars, where once they collided in a mind-meld, eyes too; aloft, the small world below, full wonder and amazement, then the dizzy fall, crash landing to awareness; Score: Adventure-8, Broken bones-0
a simple word sonnet (quoted)
lonely
bird
calls
across
open
sky;
who
needs
me
now,
my
nest
is
empty
~Piffin: Countenance
The rituals of worship slowly take hold, free the mind for devotion; then emerges the vision of God’s own brightest jewel, the visage of one’s beloved; adoration for the God who gave her beauty, gave her radiance with a heart
~BarTalk: Rue Street
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Impromptu: Plans for the summer were discussed, no impromptu
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Wordgrove Post & Review 