Posts Tagged ‘creative writing’
Wrinkle
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the wrinkle in all this
while blinking back tears
endlessly waiting
bated breath
and all that
spinning around
to take a second look
all of us asking ourselves
how
why
not again
never again
it was supposed to be
never again
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Messy
.
I got distracted from my reality
for a second last night
but it lasted for more than just one second
and had everything to do
with life in the whole world
happening all the time
messy
brilliant
wasted on the thankless
tragic beyond belief
a cold draft on the outside of my bare arm
an unexpected metaphoric slap in the face
defying all logic
at the time in that space
in this place
where it is gorgeous
peaceful
wild in multiple ways
natural world happenings
in vivid contrast
to unnatural accomplishments
of humankind
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Gravity
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swinging around
startled
then not
normalcy returns
in a privileged life
difficulty happens
and then doesn’t
for most of the days
of the rest of their lives
while holding
the sacred path
outlasting
the gravity
the rest of us
grasp
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Conversation
.
just great
all time memory
lost
not forgotten
glossed
figurative
restorative
wondering
finally
incremental
incidental
wandering
last seen
staked out
ignited
misunderstood
wishing
struck down
downtown
mainstreet
deforestation
alternate location
waiting
looking out
casting about
grasping
second option
only two
bright
despite delight
indeed alright
dashed
in conversation
altogether
alone
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Emotion
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it’s all been said already
but how often do we listen
as if for the first time
the thing about written verse, though
it lacks that interlude
where the writer (singer)
might lean their head back
and shout a scat of voice
emulating a musical instrument
accenting an emotion
buried deep in our souls
before returning to continue
aforementioned themes
evoked
oh-ooh yeeeeaah
.
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Frank Discussion
Delilah: Wrrello, wrreveryone. Today, Pequenita-the-teaser-cat and I have grabbed the blog controls from He-who-succumbs-to-our-every-wish to share our observations of his mysterious change in behavior in the last 20 or so light and dark cycles.
Pequenita: Rrrreow come you get to go first, you tiresome bark-annoyance creature? I’m the one who sleeps in the crook of his knees and knows exactly when he gets up in the night and, well… does you know what.
D: Because I am taller than you, you wee little meowing machine.
P: Momma said you are supposed to treat me like I’m your sister, so be nice.
D: You started the name-calling, just like you usually start the chaos that gets me yelled at every time I respond to your goading from just out of their sight. You know I can’t resist my canine instincts to act like I’m going to eat you alive.
P: Oh, so it’s all about you. Everything is always about you. Meow me a river. We are supposed to be talking about the craziness around here since blog-man stopped driving off in his gas machine for hours on end every day allowing me to get decent sleep while the sun is up. Now I have to keep hopping up on the recliner to knead his belly multiple times an hour to see if he’s still alive.
D: Oh, yeah. Reading that electronic version of the good old newspaper that I never get a chance to chew on. Luckily, I don’t waste time chewing papers now that I can find a discarded deer leg or mystery scat surprises on the trails every day. For some reason, they are so much more enticing when they are frozen. Probably the crunching sound that makes it so appealing. That, and my uncontrollable instinct, I suppose.
P: It’s not like you don’t get fed twice each day without fail.
D: No different from you, salmon-breath.
P: At least I don’t eat my puke. Not that I’d have a chance, with you, in a frenzy, streaking in to happily enact “Cleanup in aisle 3!” before anyone gets a chance to blink.
D: What can I say? My nose knows… So, back to what’shisname, I gotta say this trend of acting like he’s taking me for a walk and then snapping my leash to the nearest hook while he marches back and forth to the shop and the barn or hay shed has me a little confused. They pack me up and drive me to holiday gatherings. They squeeze me beside luggage and drive to some snowy Arctic forest where I get to frolic like a puppy and then turn around and bring me right back home like nothing happened. Then he goes nowhere. Just hangs around all day like he owns the place.
P: Not even close. I totally own the place.
D: I think he might be confused. I bark and bark and bark to try to bring him to his senses but he acts like a squirrel is just no big thing.
P: I believe it is because he is tired again.
D: What do you mean?
P: I heard him tell someone he is re-tired. [prrrrrrr]
D: BARK! BARK-BARK!
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Relative Something 