Question for the Author:
Where do you write? Is ambiance important? Do you have rituals or habits when you write?
I write anywhere and everywhere, all times of the day and night, using anything I can write with and on. At least, I get my notes down that way. Often, I will begin a poem using my preferred Pilot Precise V5 extra fine black ink pen on a lined pad of paper. But I always end up on the laptop, typing it into my wordpad files. I like having the convenience of sites like dictionary.com, rhymezone.com, and Google for reference, only a tab away.
I find that music stimulates my writing process, so I often listen to it while I'm working. Or, conversely, music can stir my creative juices, and I'll start writing in response to listening to it.
I can turn off the outside world, if I'm really into a poem. Give me something to drink-- coffee, tea, or CocaCola, and I'm set.
I really don't have any rituals or habits, but I am vigilant about backing up my files-- I have them saved on my computer, copied on a flash drive, and written longhand in a journal.
Stopping By Bar On A Rainy Evening
Stopped in at a bar on
The way home the
Other night. It was one of those
Post-reading nights, late, with me all
Pumped from performing at the mic, and
I didn't want to go home right away.
Never can go right to sleep, those nights. The
Gravity of the lights and conversations and
Brews drew me into the bar's bright orbit.
You know how I love a cold
Beer, and what it means for me to be
Able to sit and enjoy the drinking of it.
Reason enough, just to relax and reflect.
Only that's not all of it, not the only incentive.
No, I like the prerogative, the sanction, the
Authority, to drink, get intoxicated, or not, as
Regularly or rarely as the case may be.
After the restrictions of childhood religion, just to walk
Into a bar is pleasure in itself. I studied the blue
Neon, the bottles echoed in the mirror, the
Yellow spilling from the kitchen, the woodstains,
Even the rain streaking the black windows. This
Veneer of commercialized civilization satisfied my
Eyes, calmed my
Nameless disquiet. For the price of an
Inebriating, enlightening beverage or two, I found
Nirvana on the cheap. There's my choice of poison,
Going smiles before I sleep.
© Dianne Borsenik
Photo Collage by Jen Pezzo/Kerowyn Rose © 2009