Posts Tagged ‘creative writing’
Stilted
.
still
here
waiting
in the stillness
stilted
acclimatizing
asking myself
without ever answering
looking after
intangible ideals
basking in the absence
of sound reasoning
lonely
amid the expectations
laughing silently
at an in-joke our glances shared
conspiring innocently
innocuously
with our best selves
bursting
after dark
like vivid pyrotechnical displays
barely visible
just beyond the horizon
with audible booms
that echo the same
as yesterday’s thunder
.
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Alexandria
.
day off
already
don’t have to ride
get to sleep in
eat wherever looks good
explore Alexandria
hang out with friends
laugh till we cry
don’t get too crazy
gotta pack in the morning
and ride again
early
need to get back
in the groove
.
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Today’s Post
Today’s post is brought to you by:
- Last night’s Stanley Cup Playoff game three which went into overtime. Who has a mind to think about blogging after staying up late watching hockey?
and also by:
- The bike ride I’m taking today with my friend, Paul. Who has time to write when they are leaving to go biking?
plus:
- The fact that Asher ran away from me into the neighbor’s woods for almost an hour yesterday. Who can write when still distracted by dog frustration?
also:
- Thursdays are exhausting anyway after the drive to and from St. Paul that sandwich an hour-long intense obedience training class. I’m still tired. Apparently, it didn’t tire Asher nearly as much.
and:
- The weeding of Cyndie’s garden of perennials basically involved cutting unwanted trees that were sprouting in almost equal density to her desired plantings, but it doesn’t really deserve paragraphs being written about it.
- The bees, butterflies, and other insects are loving that garden, and [hoping I don’t jinx them] none of the hostas have been munched yet.
not to mention:
- Whatever critter is digging up the turf of the north loop pathway is making it almost impossible to mow.
Today’s post is also sponsored by the letter S.
- As in, Silly. Not to be confused with Cute or Creative because those words start with the letter C, which sounds like, sea or see, which just so happen to start with the letter S.
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Asher Interviewed
An idea was born through the miracle of modern technology and the wickedly wild unveiling of ChatGPT Artificial Intelligence answering questions with increasing believability. Maybe Chatbots could ask questions, too. Add to that idea the greatest new invention ever achieved, the ability to translate barking to text.
Asher was willing to participate in the bizarre experiment to see if it could work. He donned the high-tech brain wave reader and entered into a conversation with a computer that produced the following:
AI: Mr. Asher, can you hear me through the headgear?
Asher: Whoof!
AI: Somebody needs to turn on the translator.
Asher: You can call me Ash for short. This thing itches.
AI: It works! Okay, Ash, what do you think of your new home?
Asher: I think I could get used to this. These two hoomans seem like they like me. I think one is called, “What?” and the other one answers to, “You ready yet?”
AI: Do you think you will be able to train them?
Asher: Oh, yeah. I’ve got them going to a class in the big city where they practice and practice figuring out how to react to my every need. It’s wild because as they do their drills I get to eat non-stop treats. It can be exhausting but I’m able to take a nap while they pilot the go-fast machine back to our house.
AI: Are you getting used to all those acres of forest and field?
Asher: In fits and starts. Sometimes they free me from that dang leash and I can race after the tree rats that run rampant. The hoomans get all excited about it and try to convince me they’re called “skwerls.” The backyard is good for zooming but the hill tends to tire me out sooner than I like. If I don’t keep running the hoomans tend to take me back in the house. Not that it’s bad in there. Every time I roll a ball under the furniture they just give me a new one. I’ve got so many squeaky things to chomp on stashed around the place, I’ll never be able to destroy them all.
AI: Sounds like you are living a life of luxury.
Asher: Oh, it’s not all bully sticks and squeaking toys. The hoomans are outside every day working on something and their progress gets so pathetic I can’t help myself but help them out. Digging up diseased bushes? I can help dig. Planting new plants? I can dig those up, too. Cutting out dead branches? Oooh, I can chew ’em to bits.
AI: Our batteries are running low. Is there anything you want your humans to understand before we have to shut down the translator?
Asher: I’m sorry I chewed up both pads and both covers you guys put in my crate and the cool tapestry you had draped over it, too. It’s just… well, somethin’ has to give. When I get all riled up, I do what I do best… chew.
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Consciousness
.
waves of brain
conscious and not
driving decisions
unthinking actions
breathing mindlessly
sighing furtively
acting as if everything’s
endlessly wafting
after absolute atrophy
neuroblasts grasping
clasping ideas
vastly vaguer than asking
toward aspects largely reactive
in milliseconds always amassing
forgotten purely by habit
without effort
like a thought
that never
got thunk
.
.
Debate
.
unknowable pondering
unthinking utterances
inexplicable exasperation
minus massive doses of reality
missing obvious opportunities
with songbirds returning
aurally dancing emotions to life
melting frosty hearts
soothing unconscious aches
sighs from the skies
helping everyone
listen
March is calling
for systemic change
naturally by the rotation
of a planet
hanging in space
teeming with love
offsetting hate
waiting on guesses
open for debate
.
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Colors
.
waist deep
in wrinkled fabric
we see Peggy’s cow
slowly wading through colors
shaded by late-hour daylight
the air becoming thickly visible
fence lines just blur
hissing crickets whirl
sounds like boomerangs
fast echoing threads
dancing interwoven beats
sight unseen
playing havoc with the fade
blues and greens
merge between steps
as reality emerges
in the dust
settling
on its brow
.
.
Forgotten
.
coming in for a landing
in a dream
of a dream
with a receipt
that had notes
scribbled around the margin
layer upon layer
of life
float past
a drone’s eye view
great things spread out below
destined to fade to dark
slowly, though
seconds pass between each drip
leaking a history of memories
long forgotten
particularly the ones
that could have explained
everything
.
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Relative Something 