An artist is a creature driven by demons. He doesn’t know why they choose him and he’s usually too busy to wonder why. He is completely amoral in that he will rob, borrow, beg, or steal from anybody and everybody to get the work done.
Willian Faulkner
I’m away on holiday for a couple of weeks, and until I get back with more haiku and photographs, I’m sharing some of my favourite quotes. Hope you enjoy!
If you want more, check these out:
Travel haiku | Musings about life | Copywriting adventures
Autumn leaves blushing,
as a mango—almost ripe—
season’s beginning.
A rainbow of life,
raining light upon mortals:
poetic city.
As part of the Poetic City festival in Canberra, we had a workshop of poetry-poster making and pasting up on a prominent wall in the heart of the city. The perfect act of rebellion—completely legal, of course.
Two years—
Since I last saw my parents in the flesh.
Since I took my first photo of Autumn leaves.
Since I registered for a library membership card.
Since I told myself my future’s changed for the better.
Two years—
Since I started living with truly multi-cultural housemates.
Since I rolled my eyes at the seven types of tinned tomatoes.
Since I learnt that using three onions for every meal is a luxury.
Since I realised the grass isn’t greener on the other side.
Two years—
Since I considered my creative writing seriously.
Since I began pursuing my own twisted path.
Since I appreciated currency conversions.
Since I left India and landed in Canberra.
Seeking attention,
standing tall, holding their ground,
adult children; trees.
