Today was a pretty decent day overall. I have things I would like to complain about, but I have promised to keep my negativity to myself today and the rest of my day was pretty meh, well, except my daughter is a superstar goalie in soccer and there is going to be a meteor shower tonight which I plan on watching in about 5 minutes with the kids. Other than that, meh. I thought I would share one of my favourite things with you instead (in a sort of poetic way, sort of):
As August grows, every morning seems filled with fog that is quickly burned off by the insistent summer sun. But....before the sun gets hold, before the cool of night retreats to allow the warmth of day, before the world fully awakens in that twilight: I stop and I breathe in a cool dew heavy breath. I sip my morning coffee while I watch little things that signal the coming of a new day. Another day in August. Where summer has begun to smell mature and the surrender to Autumn is on the edge of every sense. I love this summer. Not the blazing sun of mid-July, the sticky sleepless nights. But the quiet solitude of an August morning, one with September at her door and August whispers "Shhh, just one more....." And September waits, giving in for a little while before he lets Fall in.
Hehe, August makes me a little heady, slightly drunken. Less inhibited with my word creations. It's......lovely, the effect. I thought this this morning while standing on my deck. It's a little corny, maybe, but I tend to love corny! Be gentle.
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Sunday, May 31, 2009
It happened. As I feared it would. I started writing out the post on my nifty version of associative thinking. It's like oatmeal people, it's better hot. I let it get cold. And while it held together well, it wasn't smooth. There was an internal dialogue between my whiner self and the bitch (another part of myself, I have many, we will all be well acquainted one day, promise). It was fairly awesome -you have no idea how hard it is for me to be conceited in this regard, but I figure if you fake confidence long enough it becomes natural- but it was the only portion of the whole thing I was impressed with and out of context it was useless. So, to the back burner it has been relegated, one day I may revisit it.
I have discovered a nasty little side effect of blogging. I feel obligated to post often. There are two reasons for this, 1)because I promised myself I would and if you can't keep a promise to yourself...yadda yadda and 2) because I wouldn't want to disappoint the people who read my blog. I started this blog so that I could flex my writer's muscle, which is more or less working, some days are better than others. I told a few people I know whose opinions I trust and asked them to read and give me feedback. Aside from incessantly harassing those whose opinions are most important, I also find my self obsessively hoping someone I don't know has commented . I view my own profile regularly to see how many visits I have had. I mention this only because I read a post this evening by a blogger I have kind of, sort of been following because I am impressed by her writing and she mentioned behaving in the same manner. I guess what I am trying to say is it's nice to know there are other bloggers who have the same need for validation, even those who have been at this longer. I don't feel quite as lame anymore. Aaaaand that's enough sharing.
Just in case you didn't come here tonight for Confessions with Eyvi, I will leave you with a poem I have written. First poem in a long time. Be gentle.
My Mind Mirrors The Aging Season
My thoughts, heavy and grey.
Dark, dreary, always falling.
I become introspective, fold in
Wrap myself in my imagination
My selfishness.
Reality is an intruder
A fact I cannot escape.
I dream and sleep becomes my salvation.
Like a drug that promises,
But only masks.
And it becomes harder.
Harder to face my unwelcomed guest,
To make my clean escape.
And I hate it, slumber and waking.
For false promises of freedom
For reminders of chains, anchors.
I embrace the anchors, the reminders
And find strength at the bottom of this body of water,
That caresses me, tempts me.
But there is always light behind the clouds.
And I hold my anchor, cling to it.
Praying the clouds in my mind, above the water,
Part before I have to draw breath again.
I have discovered a nasty little side effect of blogging. I feel obligated to post often. There are two reasons for this, 1)because I promised myself I would and if you can't keep a promise to yourself...yadda yadda and 2) because I wouldn't want to disappoint the people who read my blog. I started this blog so that I could flex my writer's muscle, which is more or less working, some days are better than others. I told a few people I know whose opinions I trust and asked them to read and give me feedback. Aside from incessantly harassing those whose opinions are most important, I also find my self obsessively hoping someone I don't know has commented . I view my own profile regularly to see how many visits I have had. I mention this only because I read a post this evening by a blogger I have kind of, sort of been following because I am impressed by her writing and she mentioned behaving in the same manner. I guess what I am trying to say is it's nice to know there are other bloggers who have the same need for validation, even those who have been at this longer. I don't feel quite as lame anymore. Aaaaand that's enough sharing.
Just in case you didn't come here tonight for Confessions with Eyvi, I will leave you with a poem I have written. First poem in a long time. Be gentle.
My Mind Mirrors The Aging Season
My thoughts, heavy and grey.
Dark, dreary, always falling.
I become introspective, fold in
Wrap myself in my imagination
My selfishness.
Reality is an intruder
A fact I cannot escape.
I dream and sleep becomes my salvation.
Like a drug that promises,
But only masks.
And it becomes harder.
Harder to face my unwelcomed guest,
To make my clean escape.
And I hate it, slumber and waking.
For false promises of freedom
For reminders of chains, anchors.
I embrace the anchors, the reminders
And find strength at the bottom of this body of water,
That caresses me, tempts me.
But there is always light behind the clouds.
And I hold my anchor, cling to it.
Praying the clouds in my mind, above the water,
Part before I have to draw breath again.
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