Devonne Brown

Dear Creativity,

It’s time we stopped piddling about and started dancing together. Since I was little, you’ve been working against me instead of with me. You and I have been out of time and one ingredient shy of success  since I was born, and you know it. You left me in the dust, or did I just demand more from you than you could give me?

Who disappointed who here? Did you disappoint me or did I disappoint myself? Who’s my beef with exactly? You gave me a style that’s pretty recognizable, necessarily weird, and warmly cozy. Is it good or bad? Do I create art? Do I suck? 

“Who disappointed who here?”

Devonne Brown

I must create beauty. I can’t help it that those around me don’t understand what I have to do. Having creative ideas is not popular.  Some kind of warning would have been nice. Critics start very early.

 But I find beauty in old things, strange things, and things that don’t glitter and shine. Not everyone dreams of living in a mansion with granite. Some of us dream of a house with an old stone wall.

I find the muses you carry on your back lurking. Calliope is especially good at hiding behind the action verb section in my brain. She finds those words most useful when I write in free verse or the occasional sonnet.  I love it when the muse of poetry finds her way into my prose as well.

Creativity, you’ve been the bane of my existence, driving away friends and costing me thousands of dollars. You’ve given me years of pleasure, joy, and taught me lessons no human could teach. 

Fare thee well,

Devonne