|Reviewed by Ken Chartrand
|Hi Janet, I read "Making Things". What I got out of it is, that when I am in the "Zone" of creativity,It is magical. Best of luck. Please feel free to visit my site at authors den.com or at freewebs.com/kendoo.|
|Reviewed by Vesna Perkovic
We lose ourselves
and exist in a place of reverence.
indeed ..is there a better place than the place wherein we create and bless all that we touch..purity of mind and heart touching all life around us in our own unique way..
|Reviewed by Pamela Kimmell
|What a wonderful expression of how great it is to lose yourself in something you enjoy. It's wonderful to have things to do that take you away from routine and allow us to let our imaginations soar. Great work Janet.|
|Reviewed by Kate Burnside
|BEAUTIFUL capture of a truism and you have done it in both concrete terms and in ways that delight the flights of fancy of our individual remembrances. "Hours pass yet time is motionless. Creativity: We lose ourselves and exist in a place of reverence." Not blowing me own trumpet here, but is sooooooooooo the feelings I had when writing Sheer Brilliance - actually about a newborn baby, but I knew that ANY act of creation on "our" part conjures that same mystery, reverence and awe. I totally LOVE this, Janet, thank you. LOL Kate xx|
|Reviewed by Phillip William Allen
|Reviewed by Felix Perry
|So often the purest form of delight is to be able to close our minds to all except the task at hand...whether it be crafts, writing or making love, the principle is the same, mind and body focussed on a solitary goal.
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|Amen! Great poem of remembrances and relating to the idea of just being! Beautifully done Janet!|
|Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
|That piece of grass, somehow itt is the whole poem. Hiow is fluttered. How it sounded. Then discarded. Can't help it if I'm a bit Poeish. I loved this poem.|
|Reviewed by Dawn Richerson
|and isn't it divine to lose ourselves and find us all over again like that? made me smile. thought about you sun when drove my son to Space Camp. think we passed Decatur on the way. take care, Dawn|