Presenting: 7 Words to Inspire! We pick words so you don’t have to.

I’m one of those writers that is always wanting a chance to sit down and type out all my thoughts in a largely eloquent way. Usually when I’m supposed to be doing anything else (including working, *cough cough*) and often when I have no time but a few minutes. When I do finally get a chance to clear out a part of my schedule to WRITE, I end up staring at a blank screen until I wander over to the internet instead.

Faced with the fact that I do well with prompts, I figured, why not start prompting myself? I can think of things to write about when I’m not supposed to be writing, maybe I can harness that and save it for later.

And then I thought, why not share it with others? So I present to you all, 7 Words to Inspire, or #7words. Each week, I will have seven words designed to prompt you. They will be posted daily on my twitter, @jennibean212, and collectively each week right here.

They can be used to make art, or to spark conversation. They can be used all together, or one at a time. It’s up to you. I plan on utilizing each one somehow, but I leave it open so that the end result is that we keep creating.

But wait, there’s more!

I want to see your art! If you submit your art to me in the comments below, or to my twitter, I’ll retweet and feature here as well. My favorite will even win the banana of AWESOME.

See Banana of Awesome
See banana of AWESOME

We are already in Week 2 of this new challenge, so I will present the winner from last week in a separate post. The list of words from Week 1 are below. If you want to contribute and have any questions, please feel free to ask!

I hope these words inspire you.

Week 1
Coffee-cup
Truth-serum
Pink spoon
Cinnamon
Dr. Spock
Petals
Red toothbrush

Cabin

The first steps out into the morning
echo not in this valley
but here inside the mind.
I walk toward the golden beauty
the fuzzy grass leading to the mountain peak
the red and yellow flowers,
the sleeping nature.

It’s chill, the air not quite
the temperature to show breath
but wrapping the blanket firm around my shoulders.
I inhale the scattered remnants of night,
the soot from the campfire
the wetness of dew
the aroma of sunlight on my skin

And then, like the bubbling of the brook
like the wafting scent of coffee
like the twigs that snap and crunch
like the tingling that stings my fingertips
like the delicious squeeze of my heart

you come.

It Happens Again

The same birdcall, half past seven
This time, fog curls around my ankles like a chilled cat
as I step onto the pavement to greet the sound.
The cable-knit of my sleeves wrap me in my own embrace
my shins aching still with sleep

and it happens again.

The same balloon in the sky, just after dawn,
the air pink and yawning, the heat unpresent.
The speck inside the balloon opens and closes the mouth of the envelope
making muted banshee sounds of hot air.
The speck of thrush flies below the basket
optical illusion
thrush supporting a miniature hot air balloon

and it happens again.

The swing creaks under my weight,
groaning like a day laborer with aching shins,
my coffee dribbles over the lip of my cup
my flicking tongue missing a drop that singes my skin
and bleeds into my knee, wrapped underneath.
I’m ready to open a new book
inhale the birdsong, invoke the balloonist to wave at me

and it happens again.

You are the home I slept in when ill,
the thrush call coming through your open window
before you embraced me in your sweater to keep out the chill.

You are the earlybird, waking to show me the magical specks in the sky
the recreational hoppers who sail to Oz every morning
and exclaim how you have always wanted to fly.

You are my swing companion, always spilling your coffee on your shirt
and telling me corny jokes as the day cracks its knuckles
and throws its beauty onto your face.

I open my book and inhale the wind,

and you happen again.