I didn't win and why it does not deter me

I entered another contest and did not win. I wasn't even an honourable mention.

It used to hurt. It doesn't any more. Now it makes me want to write more, to put more of myself out there.

Why I Write

For Snoopy, the author

It was a dark and stormy night.
The words are crisp and clear, but I am afraid
of where they lead and what they do not
say about reality. They show no sense of location or
circumstance. What they offer is vague and open.
Their position in this world is hidden by their
randomness; a cat says more by sauntering
through a doorway.

Suddenly, a shot rang out!
Mistakenly, a life was taken. Thoughtlessly,
my mind wandered into itself. Truthfully,
I say what must be said.

A door slammed.
A car crashed. A bird flew into an airplane’s engine and
the story took a turn for the worst.

The maid screamed.
I opened my eyes to the truth.

Suddenly, a pirate ship appears on the horizon!
Words leave clues to the path to follow,
to the destination of the story, and the moral
the author puts out for our education. To read is
to learn is to gain the answer to our abundance of questions,
even those we do not know we need to ask until,
too late, we call out for attention, and
receive only silence.

Why do I write? To see what words appear next
on this page, and to know
I put them there.

© Catherine Woods 2017

*Certain italicized words are from Charles Schulz, circa 1971.

I close my eyes

Words appear on this page

as if from magic or witchcraft,

but they are neither. It is only my muse 

speaking out 

loud and strong and clearly

making herself heard. Like a siren, she

draws me into her spell; her on the rock, solid as

diamond, whispering, weaving her words through

my mortality; me flailing about, treading water

unsuccessfully, drowning in visions of

chaos and wonder.  Then I awaken to

books, papers, and abstracts, knowing I’m concrete and

sentient and safe in reality,

until the next time that I close my eyes.

© Catherine Woods 2017