“Creativity, as has been said, consists largely of rearranging what we know in order to find out what we do not know. Hence, to think creatively, we must be able to look afresh at what we normally take for granted.”

– George Kneller

CONTRIBUTE YOUR POETRY, CREATIVE WRITING

 AND IMAGES OF YOUR VISUAL ART!

Submit your poem or creative writing  and any photos of your art

by emailing them to Carol@Creative-Edge.org.

Images should be sized for the web at 600

pixels wide and/or tall if possible.

 

Welcome to our online forum for sharing your creative explorations with the world! Revealing your work is an easy yet powerful way to validate your efforts, and gives your singular view as a gift to the world.

If you are striving to know yourself better, or to connect with others on this journey of discovery, this forum is a valuable way to deepen into the process, especially if you are just starting out on this exploration of self and community. When you share your personal perceptions and listen appreciatively to others, you can gain insight to the eternal forces mirrored in our collective lives and in your own soul. Often these hidden treasures are buried in your images, poems or stories you tell.

We invite you to look for emerging themes from your own or other’s intuitions and creative works. Then, we invite you to comment on how they facilitate your life journey. By posting and responding to posts of others, we all get an important glimpse into life’s unfolding in a much larger way than any one of us can make alone – we also bond together with companionship and support. We particularly invite work which supports understanding and encouragement of the creative process, and hence, the process of life.

CREATIVITY FORUM

Click on each entry title to see more.
Thank you to all who share their creative expressions!

My Life Has Never Been ‘the Same’

My Life has never been ‘the same’ – Because of you we met My love, my marvelous, my friend. You who came into my life Untamed, undressed and unafraid, Gathering the stars… You inspired light-up in my heart Movement in my limbs, Stillness of my soul.   My Life has...

Desensitized

"I am weak, I am weary, I am worn" Traditional hymn Orange full moon stallsBack to the eastern horizon it fallsIn retrograde motionA dancing notion The western hill eats the moonThe eastern mountains greet the sunThank the good LordRetrograde motion has been...

A River In Mild Duress

A celestial moon calls meTo an opening.A cauldronOf sea-sand and foam.Another riverUnder mild duress, but willing.From your legs of cypressA water baby,Born with kitchen wisdom. Will the water thatCarried us hereClaim us back againAs fish?Perhaps. Relationships ebb...

End Times

We’re at the end times now, with my father in law.  He had an infection that has sapped his strength so much so that he can’t roll over in bed or sit up.  He’s at home now, and the waiting game has begun.  This is the third time, and hopefully the last, that I’ve been...

On Growing Old

They sat together on the grainey grey rocks, only the space of her leaning hand between them, a hand twisted and gnarled, blue veins like tiny mountains erupting from the brown spotted surface of her skin. He reached out and put his hand over hers - a half sized hand,...

Many Hands – Thank You

Many hands: children, family, friends, lovers and neighbors – have manifest for me a life of wonderful. My library; one of hardship, good fortune and joyfulness. My journey; From wholeness...A seeker of wholeness. My words and images; Written or voiced, Rally to...

Finding Your Passion: Thoughts on Creativity Revisited

A look back at historical Creative Edge posts Originally posted in 1996 (Newsletter #25) by Donald Mathews I (recently) found myself looking for clues for personal life direction—my soul’s longing and my salvation. From experience as an artist, I know if I follow what...

Savor Your Life

Savor your lifeas if it werea blue ceramic bowljust the size tofit into your handfull to the brimwith plump red berriesthe ones grownby stooped old farmersin their ownperfect gardensnot the ones flown infrom some else'sfaraway life. Savor your lifeas if each daydrips...

Dancing With Dagma

 "Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin.Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in.Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove.Dance me to the end of love.Dance me to the end of love." - Leonard Cohen Have I not been a dancer the whole of...

Primitive Road

No signs beyond the warning,‘Primitive Road,’In the big wide openOf high plains, fields of wheatAnd soon-to-be-planted earth.  Something begged me to knowThe hum of this road,Her closed whispersAt a slow-measured-pace,Alongside tufts of grainAnd dust-devilsToward the...

Witness

I am witness to my own birth. Like mythology’s Venus Born out of sea foam Another life… And another again Unfolding. Resurrection Is available to all humans. And our garden During Spring Equinox When balance of day and night, Light and shadow, Moves toward the light...

Wild Man-Animal

When the wild man-animal is out of his cave to frolic unrestrained, carefree in joyfulness… just for the fun and freedom of it, one does not need reason to dance on waters’ surface, to be a disruptive force within the order of the universe. Nothing suits the truth of...

Ann Foley

      Creative Edge provides a welcoming, non-judgmental space for exploring artistic expression and the keys it holds to our deeper understanding of ourselves and the world around us.  Being a member of the board and partaking in Creative Edge programs...

Sounds of a Cello

You are music to me. From your breath the resonant sound of a musician’s heart awakens into murmurings of pleasure and possibility, or left behind… a song to celebrate the glory of a single life… As I listen closer to the tenor of your message, the moan of sorrow and...

Impetuous River Reveals

Earth, stone, water.  Grounded.  Giving birth to inspiration.  Yosemite.  Remembering... A miraculous place of wildernessfound on this one-of-a-kind day. For many years, like looking for my origin, I tried finding, again, this gathering of stone, water, and tree, with...

Clocks

"Clocks"Acrylic Paint with clock parts I was twelve years old when I experienced mortality in full force for the first time. The clock hands also point to twelve, sometime around when dad was pronounced to have left us. Old parts of a clock battery turn the clock from...

We Are All Shooting Stars

We are all ‘shooting stars’ in the Cosmos of possibility A brief flashing from primal nothing to everything. I am still here dancing with the Universe, growing tomatoes, suffering the pleasures and adversity of aging, joyfully surrendering the folly and expectations...

Original Song

Where is it written and where have I heard the tale that, in the beginning, we are all given a song, forgotten as we tumble to earth- that thunderous journey, crossing safe border from womb to world to spend our days searching for how our own notes fit together....

Doomsday

A doomsday prophet proclaims the end of the world is coming, and I think yes, but not yet. Of course the evolution of earth's lifetime will result in destruction, still - not yet.  I haven't filled my dance card, kissed enough toads, or journeyed into a mystical...

Fox’s Pulpit Above The River Lune

They lean in silent watchfulnessThree Cypress trees whose skyward longingWas crafted by prevailing winds.They rest now boughs on graveyard wallsAnd stand as sentinels to the few soulsWho choose the ground near Fox's PulpitTo reside, in the lingering auraOf his three...

Lessons From A Young Child

Children are an inspiration. They instinctively know how to imagine their way into life. They don't have to be taught - they just DO. Somewhere in the growing up process it became more difficult for most of us to be so present in our imaginary worlds. I know I have...

The Whole Cosmos Is My Body

The whole cosmos is my body I am waking up to every birth without exception every scale of magnitude and environs every death I will be dying today in the shifting tides of the orderings disorderings through all particulate matters the organic tapestries in sickness...

Sailing Off to the Edge of Time

Night slipped in under the door pouring across the floor rising to the ceiling. With the dark came the fear also rising beneath my feet into my heart and gut. It struck me there, curled in bed under the sheets wrapped in blankets pillows over my ears. Praying I would...

WordPress Resources at SiteGround

WordPress is an award-winning web software, used by millions of webmasters worldwide for building their website or blog. SiteGround is proud to host this particular WordPress installation and provide users with multiple resources to facilitate the management of their...

Creative Expression is Natural to all Human Beings

A look back at historical Creative Edge posts July 2018 Originally posted in 1989 by Donald Mathews Typically in the arts, the focus is on the art object or performance—the outward expression. Then, critique identifies what has been done right or wrong according to...

Solstitium

A good night's sleepas a few​ microb​ial induced​symptoms recede ​f​orceful dreamingshaving had solid closures but ​none of those images​are coming back to me ​t​hus in good health ​wakingto Solstice I am with the Sunstandingstill ​+ ​Beholding this moment​beckoning...

Aran

In Memorium: Bennett White (~25 October 2017) Into the wind. That’s the way I remember him. On Inishmor, on the way home from Dun Aengus, the old fort perched on the cliff behind us soon our backs bent, leaning over the handlebars, turning pedals, exertion carrying...

Childlike She Danced

She became aware of the music first, a faraway tickle of notes dancing upon the spring-like air rising and falling as if from a songbird's feathered throat. She felt herself lean into the sound just the smallest hope in her hips unfelt longing in her toes and she...

Temporary Homes

I sleep in unfamiliar beds, Cousins hold the place that once held my sister and brother. Grandparents, Aunts and uncles provide a movable home until Mommy and I can get Somewhere to call our own. Mom leaves me, I don’t know for how long. I stay a whole year at Grandma...

Music

I hear music and laughter in the next room. I lie in my crib, long to be held, to be where the music plays. I cry, long and lusty, Wanting someone to carry me out to where the fun is happening. I am full of sadness, since no one comes to hold me. Soon my eyes are...

Early Summer Storm

Sunlight trickled through the trees tumbled lightly onto me caressed my cheek with warmth dappled my thoughts and senses Awakened sparks in dewy moisture left behind by sprinkler’s grace and in steamy tears on my face Remnants of joy’s expression tattooing the cheeks...

Thoughts on Creativity Revisited #1

A look back at historical Creative Edge posts April 9, 2018 Originally posted in 2007 by Carol Mathew-Rogers Today is the first day of this new year, 2007. I sit at my desk and ponder my connection to The Creative Edge: The Way of the Arts. As a new board member at...

Dissolved

The poet dissolved while reading The New York Times in a tub of warm warm water the book reviews. Fluting across water boundaries into the air  and out the window. Trying to explain in his sweating head why, oh why he keeps on writing words on paper. Or more honestly...

This is the Month I Didn’t Die

My mouth is wide open But I cannot swallow. In the beginning I needed a life of excitement and danger A colored light moving on a rippling wall A man tearing at my heart All was needed to wake me from the cold stone I was carved from. A run-down walk-up apartment...

Grandpa Victor Grahn

Grandpa prays before every meal, Reads his large print Bible every day. One full chapter out loud followed by a hymn. Every Sunday early we go to church, We sit in the front pew. One Sunday I felt sick, but Grandpa made me stay. I threw up over the railing right in...

Grandma Mary Grahn

She shows her love with what she does, not so much with words. Her home is neat and clean, the pantry full Jars of many colors, raspberry sauce, green beans, pickles, relishes, rhubarb. She bakes biscuits, bread, coffee cake. Bread dough rises under a white towel...

Celebrate Being Straight

Learning how to deal With the opposite sex Can be so challenging   (There is much wringing of hands)   Sometimes it seems I am living with an alien From a distant planet   Something clicks sometimes And sweet "I love yous" Fly back and forth   Do we really need...

Pima County Auto Route, 1/11/2018

He says: "Let's go to the Dove of the Desert" Yesterday we were at the Casino And I won $13, his lucky number   So today it is the Dove of the Desert At WA'K or B'AK, the oldest continuously inhabited townsite in the lower 48,   Irrigated fields off the Santa Cruz...

Daffodil

Reaching out to a daffodil  On Sunday when the sky flew  My thoughts created raindrops  "What do you want?" I said "I'll give it to you then"  You know what I mean  So if you want this Do you want it retail or wholesale? No returns permitted  But if you don't  It's...

Thaw of the Frozen Soul

Hard truths betrothed to ecstasy  Lie in the fallow frozen ground  The screeching crows unhallowed ground    Now from that frozen fecund way  A spring of rilling water runs  Beneath the chilling iceberg runs    If frozen heart when level straight With little vision...

Apparitions (how little did we know)

1 Time travel is now. a real responsibility. as in. here I am. through the bliss. of jet-powered flight. freshly transmuted. from the 20th century. and eager for conversation 2 Night is become day. and day is night. now. in the cinemaesthetic. trance. how weirdly it...

Predicament

(notes on waking up in Kingsport Tennessee November 14, 2017) 1 A miraculous family convergence last night. right here. beloved two living sisters brother-in-law. beloved nieces and great-niece. the necessary laments and ritual shakings of heads. thanks be with...

Thanksgiving 2017

The phone rings, not the cell phone, which I keep on the night table near my bed, but the phone, land-line, in the kitchen. I glance at the clock. Seven in the morning on Thanksgiving Day.  My Colorado son, Lance, calls to wish me well, discusses his plans to visit...

“Paco” Francisco Granados Ferro

“Paco” Francisco Granados Ferro living in bird land with St. Veronica from Granada spreading pomegranate knowledge to all who will listen about the war the civil war before the last world war we hope from the hills of Spain that lives in pain across the shore and out...

The Darkest Night

Turning on all Rebellion against rebellion itself The fire angels Burned in tallow candles Enumerating the night Spells cast By the Ouija Board And unheard of Whispers from beyond Upthrust In the nude light Shells of special consciousness Pealed Like evaporating...

Holly Pebbling 5-25-80

This is a poem that I wrote when I was separating from Holly’s Mother, and I was interested and impressed with how much she had to survive at the very young age of three or four. My younger daughter Holly lost her husband on October 1, to a motorcycle accident. She...

I Quit Playing Myself

Once upon a time I was a little boy Who liked lollipops And Ginger Roses And now I am old And it is time to stop. Even about that, I don't know Do I remember what the Ghost Said to Hamlet? Am I a straw mouse In indigo bunting? Or am I a hummingbird, Swift upon wings...

Untitled

The Czech version: Padl na mne velký smutek, Jak ten život rychle utek. The English version: I got hit by deeply sad and profound feeling Seeing last few layers of my life now peeling Jerry Stepanek October 2017

They Were Dancing In The Isles In 58

they were dancing in the isles in 58 during the "Jazz festival." then in 67 for the "Pop festival" for the first "Blues Festival" now for the "International Blues festival" but what is important is keep on dancin' like Zorba to understand it all Stephen Brown October...

Flax

"FLAX" the label on the back of the white linen nightgown full-length, pure-white three bone buttons along front neckline opening. Bought ever-so-many years ago worn regularly during all seasons washed and sun-dried, weather permitting. I loved that nightgown...

Monstrance

Monstrance is an altar dedicated to the Great Mother in all her aspects. The image shown is a detail, about 20"X15" of a sculpture that is nearly 7' tall, 3' wide, 2' deep. The whole piece weighs about 300 lbs.   John Dotson March 2017  

Repose

Your head in the blue sky your feet in the blue lake your back at rest against your pack. You are a mountain of food for two ants crawling up your arms. You are an invisible speck for the juniper Pine clinging to the top of the granite cliff. You feel the cool...

February, 1981

the lacy curtains sheer and patterned sometimes rippled outward on a breath of the sky through the open window to the moon high in the branches of a black leafless silhouette against a black sky the little hope of flesh had passed our bed was quiet my lover lay asleep...

Untitled

Past fifty it's hard to find new sacrificial victims to blame for ones unhappiness. All these years I've been waiting for the soulful perfection of others to appear like a magical key and unlock my heart. Then I would be filled with loving-kindness; it would roll in...

Love Is Not A Word

Love is not a word in search of a definition Not a matter of grammatology font style effects My fingers touch your skin and the heat transfers The deeper lava flows hot as your beating heart Back and forth I descend into the wants of your eyes I feel the rise and fall...

Big Sur

A few miles up from the ocean reached by truck on rugged road lined with pale pink buckwheat, and ruby lit Indian Paintbrush, I sit by an old wooden cabin feel sun's beginning seduction. Rays closer than usual probe my skin, alert my blood to its glory. An easy...

Untitled

He is smiling sweetly Talking about his wise love for his sons And his best friend. He glances at my neck, At the crease between my breasts. Then he looks again. There is a small scratch on his brown, furry forearm It's winking at me. He has taken my hands As I speak...

I Am A Spy

I am a spy in the house of me. I live in disguise, my metaphoric black fedora slanted across my forehead, my belted trench coat flapping wide as I stride with purpose through dark and stormy nights. Though the streetlamps cast weak spotlights all around me, the black...

Two Haiku

HAIKU 99,000 it was all very simple until it got complicated UNTITLED Who am I That death doesn't desert me But waits patiently At my doorstep? Chris Lovette Tucsan, AZ February 2017

Pietersite’s Omen

The burning rubble tumbles from the ridge To valley floors where water once ran clear, Illuminates a long sustaining bridge Whose last passage across is growing near. The omens of an elemental force Hint toward a shift of global reaching range, With power to disrupt...

Prism Feelings

When the purple sun is standing complete against the sky A glowing white crane starts its flight line for all mankind to see Working for a new beginning holding to the virgin light Raising flight is gained the prism giving us the cryptic sight Emotions feeling...

Tucson Veteran’s Hospital, 2016

The roses bloom in the Spring In the court yard full of blooming roses A blind soldier talks to me About going back to Wyoming tomorrow Where the ice Off the ponds We no longer need is now melting Off the ponds We no longer need to break through the ice To water our...

Scorched Brown Black

The scorched brown black earth telling cinder tales of just passed fire storms Lining the road to the Monastery at Tassajara. In the mountains of the Salinian's near the sacred spring of another tribe The Buddha chants the Bells ring. The stones of the walls wait on...

Environmental Services Truck #6110

"Brush and Bulky Pickup" It says in a two by eight foot decal On the side of the truck. A crew of six inmates Two drivers And a deputy sheriff overseer Load the camps' debris into the back of the truck Into the compactor that leads Into the belly of the truck The...

Crossing The Edge of Fear

October 12, 2017 Originally posted in 1989 by Creative Edge founder Donald Mathews in his first newsletter:   Tllicho Lake   In this high place it is as simple as this leave everything you know behind. Step toward the cold surface say the old prayer of rough love and...

Knowing

A look back at historical Creative Edge posts October 12, 2017 Originally posted in 1994 By Carol Mathew-Rogers     On the subject of learning from others, I’d like to share a poem with you that I wrote during my initiation conference with Brugh Joy (a spiritual...

The Tight Rope Walker

The heights can be dizzying Balancing On seeing feet Light and airy Or losing control The walk No longer sustainable The fall Inevitable And falling An eternity Wondering Will the safety net hold? Chris Lovette Tucsan, AZ Sept 2017

Rattlesnake

We kept the baby rattlesnake In an aquarium In the homemade bookshelf Made of cinder blocks and wood planks The baby rattlesnake learned How to crawl up the side of the aquarium And to get out And to hide In one of the holes in the cinder blocks That held up the...

Grand Canyon

when you approach the lookout packed tight with people their hands stretched to heaven they hold small boxes they briefly look at them to rise them again and again fracking the Grand Canyon into small fragments to be deconstructed into a fuzzy memory of the...

Untitled

The rich plasma of space and time flows in infinite waves through out the cosmos within no bounds. On the circle with no beginning or end. The storms from the south brought lightning bolt the swords of Mars God of War. Into the peaceful night. Good or evil sad or...

Listening to the murmurings of our heart

July 29, 2017 Originally published 1989 By Don Mathews The great arc of life has symmetry and meaning as we cycle through four major phases of approximately two decades each. In the initial stage we are nurtured into adulthood by family and culture. In the second...

Laura Carley

      Creativity has been an integral part of my life, both the joy of mental exploration, as well as physical manifestations in painting, photography, and writing.   I originally joined Creative Edge in the early 1990’s to share art & ideas with...

Kyla Cyr

       When I discovered Creative Edge at age forty, I was an art teacher seeking a creative salve for my growth.  I now realize that what I found was connection with a supportive network.  How did this happen?  This was always the first step as we...