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Creatively Written: November 2009
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Monday, November 30, 2009. I have written so few words to the one I love, for the one I love, for I have not loved like I might have. Alice chased the white rabbit, I chase the illusion of. Happiness, happiness, happiness. It exists, so I've been told, the bundle of mature emotion, immature impulsiveness, the words which are. Spoken as the anthem of the living, the silence of the dead. How can I long for the world to reorder, to turn back the clock, to disappear into the endlessness of. You monkeys, awake.
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Creatively Written: September 2009
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Sunday, September 20, 2009. Standing in one place the eternities stare,. An eternity, as sand pulling away from the dune,. Pulling away from the dune. How indifferent the wind that plays with the shifting sand,. Asking more and more. Until the sand is blown away. Piled behind a wall. As indifferent as the wind once was. Blow as it may. The wind cannot pass, but is turned aside. Saturday, September 19, 2009. Hauntingly beautiful sound,. Clatter, clatter,. A call to decide. Friday, September 11, 2009.
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Creatively Written: August 2009
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Friday, August 28, 2009. There is no reason,. It just happened to begin that way,. A shivering of fantasies up my spine and down again. So sly, a glance between moments. Eyes that linger, savour, caress. Pinpoint the attraction, I cannot. Fill in the meaning between the lines,. Brush against me, scent of sanity,. Taste the sweetness upon my lips. Flowing freedom of silence,. Does it mean anything to you? The darkness and the moon,. Snuff out the meaning, an illusion. Risk everything upon the vision,.
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Creatively Written: February 2009
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Saturday, February 28, 2009. This was inspired by Charles Dickens "A Tale of Two Cities). New faces, new places, they travel each day, searching for redemption, revival, anything. They have left the land of no hope, for that city upon a hill, they have left, they have left with a will. Yet the hunger it lay in the streets, yes the hunger lay in the streets. Onward citizens, onward, search for the elusive medal, nugget, hope, hope! Faces of gaunt children, and balding men, hair receding hope retreating.
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Creatively Written: Royalty
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Thursday, July 3, 2014. Bruised but not broken. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). A man goes far to find out what he is - Death of the self in a long, tearless night, All natural shapes blazing unnatural light." Roethke. An Old Poem of Longing. Spinning, flying, dreaming. Link to my blog "Schooling Our Thoughts". A Writers Tips on Writing. The Works of Henry David Thoreau. Learn Techspeak Through MIT for Free. The pure, the beautiful, the bright,. That stirred our hearts in youth;. Sarah Doudney, 1843.
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Creatively Written: October 2009
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Friday, October 30, 2009. For love of Fall. The wind, a breeze. Through the hazy afternoon. The scent of autumnal bonfires. The dying embers of the summer sun. Warming the top of your head. A part of the dancing leaves. Saturday, October 17, 2009. Fagots eat at my heart. Tell me you forgive me. Wednesday, October 14, 2009. Westward the wind blows. Heaven lies shaking in repose. Yet all was well at day break. Wishes lies were true. Hasten send forth the pew. Yaweh will judge you now. I remember that day,.
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Creatively Written: June 2009
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Tuesday, June 30, 2009. Don’t tell me that you don’t understand,. How could you be ignorant after all these years? Don’t tell me that there is no plan,. I have fought, I have lost,I have groped for solutions in the dark. I need faith, I need love, I can only do so much. There is hope, there’s a choice there are many roads to take. Give me breath, give me time. I need to live, soar. I need to find what makes me, scream and laugh,. There is joy and pain, faith and despair here,. Monday, June 29, 2009.
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Creatively Written: Spinning, flying, dreaming
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Thursday, July 3, 2014. Spinning, flying, dreaming. Spin through the air. A doll in the wind. Checkered vortex and stars await me. As I run into the shadows. As the pebble rolls. Zip everything up and put it in my pocket. I reach out to grasp. If I could grasp it. It would fly me past the slow motion movie. Reclining against the boulder. From a bottle of dew. Roll past his feet. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). An Old Poem of Longing. Spinning, flying, dreaming. Link to my blog "Schooling Our Thoughts".
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Creatively Written: July 2009
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Friday, July 31, 2009. Mists, mists surround me the smell thick in the air. Ghostly figures walk, enveloped in the fog, some sit by the fire seeking clarity. I cling to my father, surprised that this is a cloud, clouds should be fluffy, friendly, not like this. Pleasant scents of affluence wafted through the air; I was standing on the edge, though my stomach growled, we didn’t stay to eat. Mists and chlorine, sweet oil, and sweat. Paradise, an oasis in the desert, a place to squeeze out regrets. Overpowe...
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Creatively Written: An Old Poem of Longing
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Thursday, July 3, 2014. An Old Poem of Longing. The hour has passed. But what of those left behind? As hope drains away. Ask not the Robin. Why her egg did not hatch. Ink spreads over pages. An empty book which cannot be filled. No, not for all the writing,. Though ink drips from my pen. Hold in your arms the soft sighs and joys. When the dawn breaks. My aching arms will be soothed. By a tender head. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). An Old Poem of Longing. Spinning, flying, dreaming.
