The Play however; seemed to produce more argumentatively valid criticism than actual dialog. That as it may; the fact remains many women today continue to be uncomfortable talking about or using the word vagina. Therefore in consideration of such taboo, I'd like to note that my post is not intended in any derogatory or vulgar manner, merely a depicted creative analogy.
I begin most notably with the mental vaginas' spontaneous abortion, a miscarriage, an injustice to the artistic world; mournful that in my pursuit of writing, some of my best thoughts have passed away; gone but not forgotten.
A Thought went up my mind today - That I have had before - But did not finish – some way back - I could not fix the Year - Nor where it went – nor why it came The second time to me - Nor definitely, what it was - Have I the Art to say - But somewhere – in my Soul – I know - I’ve met the Thing before - It just reminded me – ’twas all - And came my way no more - |
Perhaps in an attempt to recapture those lost words or to release the minds' many artistic contemplations, some authors stimulate their intellectual seemingly temporary impotent imagination, by becoming aroused via mental masturbation. Thumbing through a dictionary or thesaurus, indulging in scripted alluring narrative printed words spawned by other writers, lyricists… Such modus operandi has facilitated many a poem for me.
In fact; some where between the lines of awe inspiring inspiration, my imagination has spewed forth to artificial inseminate my mind. Now inside my mental womb there continues to grow numerous chapters to various books I'm writing. Unfortunately; my mental vagina refuses to give birth, merely false labor pains at times. Maybe that is why there are Ghost Writers, surrogate wordsmiths who can carry the actual words of an author to full term and give birth to a brand spanking new book.
"I do not think there is any thrill that can go through the human heart like that felt by the inventor as he sees some creation of the brain unfolding to success. ..." (Nikola Tesla, 1856 - 1943)
Sadly I may never know such a thrill for I can feel my creative intellectual biological clock ticking; with one hand on my pen and one foot in the grave, it's a race against time to see which wins. How dejecting that time nor death stops for no one; not us authors nor artists or lyricists, composers, or any creative endeavorers.
"Time and Death their Thoughts impart On Works of Learning and of Art"
from the English Dance of Death Pub. 1 April, 1814 by Rudolph Ackermann
May your mental vagina give birth before the clock stops tick talking ~ndpthepoetress
*The R. Ackermann image was distributed freely on the web, the book the image was originally printed in has no copyright notations. However; if you deem this image to be yours, please contact bindingink.org so we may hopefully obtain proper permission to use the above said image and give credit accordingly. Thanks.
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