Six Word Stories (12)

An artist can’t help but leave a part of themselves within their work, whatever form it takes. That is the beauty of art.

I also believe that of creation, and the laws the universe follows. The Creator leaves his fingerprints within every law, truth, and formation in the universe.

Have you ever really noticed the beauty of a frozen pond? Dance on the ice all you want. Chisel it, cut groves. Every frozen ripple tells a story.

But when it’s time, and the sun shines warm, the water will flow again. Is it aware of the imprints it once held?

Words represent ideas, and they flow like water. Their affects travel father then we might think. Be careful with them.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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When Creativity Looks Like Doing Nothing.

Do you consider lying around as lost time?
Many kinds of creativity happen chiefly in our thoughts.

It takes a massive amount of just sitting and thinking to create new worlds for a book.
Paintings start in the mind before coming to life on canvas.
A sculptor must visualize the goal before the first cut or chisel.
Creativity can look a lot like doing nothing. I know mine often does.

What about yours? Are you giving your mind a space to create?
My kids often slouch in their chairs, roll their eyes at me and say. “I’m so bored!” In reply, I laugh. “Ha! Good, your growing brain cells. Now go play.”

Quiet thinking, being bored, is good for creativity. It forces us to find something. That’s when a potted plant becomes an unexplored island, or a spoon on the table, a boat lost at sea. Without that initial boredom, our brains wouldn’t feel the need to create stimulation on their own. Boredom can be a beautiful beginning.

Are you ready to make space to be bored? As an adult, I find it’s difficult. I have many things seeking my attention, it’s hard to sit and think.
Busyness can overwhelm. When this happens, we can look like we’re bored, but is really procrastination.
Personally, that means I’m experiencing performance anxiety. I fear I won’t be able to do something, so I’m afraid to even try. This looks like sitting around drumming my fingers. It looks bored, but it’s not, and it’s never a good thing. I am not advocating for it. When I learn how to overcome this stumbling block, I will let you know. (Don’t hold your breath waiting for me. It might be hazardous to your health.)

But I no longer find times of quiet, wasted time. I don’t continually need to fill my space with sound. I close my eyes and think. Listen to the sounds of the world. It is as pleasurable and inspiring as music. When was the last time you tried sitting and doing nothing?

I encourage you to find time during your week to practice a few moments of it. Let the dancing dust in a ray of light turn to fairy tales. Let the squeak of a rocking chair shift in to the swing of wood. Watch the wind through the trees. Listen to the chitchat of your kids. You might find inspiration there you didn’t expect. You might find a moment’s peace. Cherish it. It’s worth more than gold.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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The Day I Prayed to Die

The day I prayed to die,
I didn’t need any more why’s.
Wasn’t looking for reply’s,
there were no tears left to cry.

The day I prayed to die.

I wasn’t seeking heaven’s gate,
didn’t know if hell would be my fate.
Just knew I couldn’t longer wait,
to reach the end of livings state.

The day I prayed to die.

Question it a selfish prayer?
Of others, I was keenly aware.
But my pain just didn’t care,
it had become too much to bare.

The day I prayed to die.

No longer worth the constant strain,
exhaustion was my daily chain.
I knew I could no longer feign,
on others, I was now a drain.

The day I prayed to die.

Better just to cease to be,
everyone would then be free.
Grieve then moved away from me,
was my unstable inner plea.

The day I prayed to die.

I got no answer on that day.
Silent heaven wouldn’t life betray.
A barred path to its doorway.
Hell also couldn’t let me pay.

The day I prayed to die.

That day passed into the next,
continuation left me vexed.
I was blinded and perplexed.
“God, please, no more checks.”

Again, I prayed to die.

With no end and no relief,
exhaustion now pared with grief.
Greif was growing disbelief,
my prayer demanded a debrief.

Yes, I prayed to die.

Anger at the silent space,
God’s hand, I couldn’t trace.
Left me reeling, self disgrace,
numb to mercy’s embrace.

Still, I prayed to die.

Yet, God’s grace held true.
By degrees, it ever grew.
Working on my tainted view.
Willing to pull me through.

Even though I prayed to die.

See, my God will have his way.
His hand carry’s every day.
Promises will ever stay,
when his child walks astray,

or even prays to die.

Slowly life changing me,
life I wished I could flee.
Locked to earth by God’s decree.
Not my life, but his, you see.

He wouldn’t let me die.

Here I am, still in the mix.
God knows, I’m no easy fix.
Though I’m still one, he picks,
whatever life inflicts.

Steady prayers still fly,
though none ask to die.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Bubble Hunting

A sheet of ice that spans the street, black like darkest slate.
From underneath water seeps, through clogged and rusting grate.
Bubbles trapped under ice dance despite the cold,
as little boots sliding fast can find no proper hold.

Back and forth, ghost like in sheen, the bubbles bounce and bob.
Weight is shifted up above. Stomp! That did the job.
One bubble popped. White rings are left to mark the impact’s crack.
How many can be caught and taught with a well aimed mighty thwack?

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Insomnia’s Kiss

Racing
Chasing
Unconsciousness
Losing
Confusing
Wakefulness

Muddled
Huddled
Protectionist
Muzzled
Puzzled
Projectionist

Insomnia’s kiss

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Stories (8)

I have grown to love my six word stories. Many times I just don’t have a lot of words. But when I make myself thinking 6 small words, and how I could fit just those 6 together, it forces my mind open and relieves the pressure.

One thing you wouldn’t know about me unless we are close friends, is my life for sea creatures. There life dance are things of such beauty.

Not to mention, a lot of them taste fantastic…

When I find even six little words, hard to grab a hold of, I know it’s time to pray. “God, if you gave me this need to write, will you also give me the words?”

I believe God has a great sense of humor. Do you? I mean, come on… What was he thinking when he made broccoli? Not to mention its ghost cousin cauliflower?

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Poetry? Email List & RedBubble Shop

I have started an author’s email list. Would you like to get updates on future publication and art projects? Then you should sign up! My email list will also be the first to have access to any discounts and coupons on future projects.

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I have also just finished setting up my new Red Bubble Shop! I am excited to make my art work available to you and the world. Please check it out and tell me what you think. See something you like? Share it with your friends. Even if you don’t care to make a purchase, sharing my shop with other will help me fund my upcoming publication projects. You can find my Red Bubble shop at MaryGWriting.redbubble.com.

I wish you a blessed New Year’s Day, and Year!

The Wonder of Color

Have you ever wondered at the wonder of color? The bright, the bold, the muted and soft. The endless hues that make up the color wheel. The variations you get mixing them. The creativity, chemistry, and math. I wonder at the wonder of colors.

My favorite huge is forest green. The deepness of it. The peaceful emotions it evokes when I see it. The smell of crushed pine needles. What would the world be without forest green? What about yours?

Imagine if your favourite hue just disappeared.
I think I would weep.

Have you ever thought about the power colors have to influence your mood? Dose a sunny yellow brighten your day? Dose a deep blue calm you? How about a playful pink, or a shimmer of silver?

Color wouldn’t be without light. That electromagnetic radiation bouncing around our word, being absorbed or rejected by objects and our eyes. The way it all works together, or doesn’t, to give us the thing called color. Mesmerizing madness are the words that come when it’s all described. Magic! But also science, this wonder that is color.

I have dreamed of a world that lacked light before. A world of blackness, of touch, feel, smell, hesitation, question. A world where everything has a home, or it disappears. A world where the human senses are all enhanced by our blindness. What a different world ours would be without light, without color.

Colors tell stories. We know that red checks mean something. Fever? Cold? Embarrassment? A flush of Joy? Too much wine? Shades of red tell so many stories. Some beautiful, some uncomfortable, some painful. Red, the color of love, and blood.

Blue is the hue of cold. Dose it send chills down your spine? Or darken it to royal and it tells a story of lush luxury and poise. Darken in to navy and it reminds me of strength. Lighten it and its baby blue is like a child’s light-hearted giggle.

What color gives you warmth? Is it a burst of yellow? Yellow tells the story of present sunshine and wildflowers. The kiss of honey on bread, the smell of mead. In reverse it whispers of sickness, soiled garments, wasting age. All these are yellow, and yellows are these things.

Primary in their existence, the blues, the reds, the yellows. Mix them? The world explodes with color.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

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