I was inspired this morning as I walked to practice piano for an upcoming recital… this would have been great, had I been inspired to practice. Rather, I was inspired to set the opening of Wordsworth’s The Prelude to music.
My roommate (bless her) stopped me just in time: “Ryanne, if you write a melody and add lyrics, you’ll also want to add harmony and piano. You don’t have time!”
But I felt strongly the annoyance of being unable to create due to the pressures of my ordinary, required pursuits.
So I wrote a little rhyme to vent:
A non writing writer’s a monster they say:
A little too frazzled and nearly insane.
She lives in an enchanted, storybook world
Yet can’t venture in, for life is a whirl.
One single word leads to many and two-
Well, they multiply to be more than a few.
And should she dare to compose a small line
She risks the danger of falling behind;
The everyday life has no cares for the muse,
Though the poet’s soul, she hardly did choose.
So cursed with a mind that brews up ideas
And a heart that ever ceaselessly feels,
She stumbles about with a businesslike stride
And forces her little brainchildren to hide
And wait for a time when life will relax
It’s grip made of boring and ord’nary tasks-
So she might finally write them all down,
These inkling ideas that, impatient, abound.
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