Monday, November 18, 2013

Can't Write These Days

It has been over 2 months, but I can't seem to write these days.
Desert dry.
I could say I'm busy and distracted, which is true, but not totally true. My writing mind feels as though it's been tampered with, or the Eye of Sauron is boring into it and my brain and psyche is shrinking back in a silent scream of too-much-awareness.
It's true that my mind has been tampered with. I've had to drop a few nuts and bolts and monkey-wrenches in there to try and straighten it out, but so far it only makes a grinding sound and shoots out a few sparks, and isn't fixed.

All to make a humble apology for not posting the rest of the story chapters (see last entry if interested), or anything else, and yep I know we all go through times where we don't have a lot to say.
Ecclesiastes tirade on meaningless! meaningless! seems appropriate at the moment, oh and the vanity part, also.

Well, this is depressing.

I'll not come back on until I have something nice to say.

In the meantime, I've dug through my phone (which I am trading in this week, or next, or whenever I can drag myself to Telus) and uncovered a few poems for those of us of a poetic bent. They range from 2009 or so to the present-ish.

Feel free to comment or criticize; my skin is getting thicker. For example, "This poem is dumb. I don't get it at all! Are you crazy?" would be acceptable, along with, "I think you're a genius and must be published immediately or the world will shrivel and die for lack of art!" which is also acceptable.
Please keep in mind that the Poet (me) is not the Speaker (the voice of the poem). Or not always, anyway. Meaning it is not necessarily ME as the Speaker in the poem. 

Okay now.... let's see....what do we have here....
Aha.


 
 
Vertigo
In dreams I walk
Not yet awake, not quite asleep.
The precipice of unreality tilts strangely.
 
Thoughts reveal themselves and focus,
then dim and fade.
Objects float past my vision.
I need to run, to speed quickly on,
but I’m held here by this edge.
 
Jagged and unruly,
Dangerous and wild,
Is the sign of sanity that I appear so mild?
 
Dreams that held me spellbound
have turned to air in hand,
and vertigo, my polar star
is over on its end.
 
Lost old souls will understand.
My time is going back and forth
across the face of hours and days.
The sands of time are quick.
 
I’ve propped my image up
With spoons and forks and knives,
Running fast! I will not have to hear the crash –
I’ve disappeared inside my mind.
 
Lonely feels sweet like coffee sugar
crystals on the tongue
walking alone in the blue space of a summer sky
watching the people on the ground.
 
Friends I meet here are not around.
I’ll wait, but there’s a dismal sound.
 


 
Hiding
 
I hide behind smiling eyes, smiling mouth –
a flash of teeth, a twinkle
a poised approach.
 
A little speech, a set of shoulders –
swish of papers, click of heels
a dip of head.
 
I retreat. Feel the papery surface with
Surprise!
You thought there was a person here.
Warm welcoming look, touch of a real hand.
 
I’m sorry. She’s not in right now, but leave a message,
no doubt will be back soon,  
only it has been a long, lonely time.
Paper only lasts so long.
 
Merely embers warm to the hand.
Too late –
Fires burned in secret smoke and fume,
then ashes come.
 
I hide behind the twinkle you mistook for fire.
It’s ice.
 
 
 
 
Windswept Days
The only moment in all the space of
these windswept days that I feel
 
The only time I feel peace and
happiness is when
 
Our eyes happen to run in to each other
for a moment
 
A dragged out moment that stops all
the voices
 
And laughing, smiling faces for a
moment and I feel
 
The only time there is peace is when
our eyes meet
 
In the grey storm-cloud and it rains and
thunders but
 
In the glance away the still-bright sun
colors all the faces
 
And the painted dog chases a stick and
a spoon stirs the coffee
 
Loud clinks chasing away the beautiful lull
where the grey
 
Storm-clouds of your deep eyes breathe
kindness into my
 
Dried-up fractured soul. That’s the only
time.
 
Good enough for now! Plus reading poems can be exhausting.
Plus I feel pathetic about them when they are here all black and white and vulnerable, so three is about all I can take.
Enjoy the day! I have a house to clean, a wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it. I'm swamped.
 


 
 


2 comments:

  1. You're awesome Pam. The depth of your mind is inconceivable...
    And I always love Princess Bride quotes...
    Good night Wesley. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. :) The Dwed Piwate Woberts takes no survivors!!!

      Delete

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