Its surprising how much art can influence us if we want it to. Inspiration can often be found in the strangest of places. I’ve always wondered why writers like to seclude themselves so that the creative juices can flow unhindered. How much can trees and leaves and birds inspire us?
I for one, feel that copying someone’s hard work is the best form of inspiration. Why try and come up with new ideas when there are hundreds out there waiting to be stolen. Today, I stole from Wordsworth.
She was a Phantom of Delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment’s ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
And here’s my poem –
160mm 1/250 at F5