Saturday, April 25, 2009
My new favorite website
I rarely have new favorite websites and when I do, they usually have to do with very small houses and the like. This one is purely and simply about beauty. This website and Mr. Calmes photography is amazing. He captures beauty and grace in action. Check it out; I don't think you'll be disappointed. http://www.pbase.com/rcalmes/root
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Once again...
It's been too long and will probably be too long before I post again. Of course, this time I couldn't remember how to sign in to my own blog - sadness!
Friends have asked about my poetry lately and my response that the "well is currently dry" and has been for some time, has brought with it the realization that I can tell how well I'm doing (or how poorly) based on how much poetry I'm writing. Needless to say, it's been far too long. Of course, here are all the reasons I haven't written at all in the last three months and little over the past year and half.
Evan and I made our sixth move in less than five years of being married. We moved to a new city with new jobs. Evan continues to try desperately to finish his Master's degree as I've begun my own. We moved into a humongous house with a large mortgage (although I will quickly add that given the size of the house, the mortgage is small). We are back around some dear friends, family really, but at the same time we're meeting lots of new people - which is exciting/energizing and thoroughly draining. I think I told myself if I could just get through the move, then everything would be fine - but the truth is that a move like this one has far-reaching effects and I might not be settled for months yet to come.
Anyway, I thought it would be nice despite all of these things, for me to take a look at some poetry which was nearing completion before I set it down. And that I ought to take some time since I have a few minutes tonight to update my blog with another poem.
It has no title because it was part of another poem but it didn't seem to fit and the title didn't either. Here goes... Oh and if you have an appropriate title, suggest it.
I find myself in a shelter of fireplace quiet
There are scraps of daily calendars
covered in scratch or
fine, printed words and encased in
thick weather-beaten browned leather.
Discouraged, disheartened
a train wreck in despair
Some cannot understand,
will not listen, cannot hear
their one-answer religion, blocks voices – now silenced
now shrinking, crumpling in on itself, fine dust
tear this heart out, limply pulsing, lift it
up and let it –
ahhhhh (said with relief), breathe...
This bruised and battered heart slowly turns,
broken from hope,
yet others have faith, hope, for this same heart.
Last year's flower has closed and died
Perhaps a new bud will appear and your prayers lift,
to places I cannot imagine.
Environmental therapy has a short life span
the throbbing empty aloneness.
Stop and feel whatever
can be felt, listen
Listen, to what it (the throbbing empty aloneness)
alone can speak.
What is coming in, what is going out
allowing waves to wash over you
surprised by breathing under water
without gills
the future will always careen
out of control
you cannot force it,
you can, however, work until your soul fades into greyness.
(end of poem)
Actually, it says a lot about where I am now, as it said about where I was when I wrote it. Of course, it needs loads of revision but that's the first draft for ya.
Friends have asked about my poetry lately and my response that the "well is currently dry" and has been for some time, has brought with it the realization that I can tell how well I'm doing (or how poorly) based on how much poetry I'm writing. Needless to say, it's been far too long. Of course, here are all the reasons I haven't written at all in the last three months and little over the past year and half.
Evan and I made our sixth move in less than five years of being married. We moved to a new city with new jobs. Evan continues to try desperately to finish his Master's degree as I've begun my own. We moved into a humongous house with a large mortgage (although I will quickly add that given the size of the house, the mortgage is small). We are back around some dear friends, family really, but at the same time we're meeting lots of new people - which is exciting/energizing and thoroughly draining. I think I told myself if I could just get through the move, then everything would be fine - but the truth is that a move like this one has far-reaching effects and I might not be settled for months yet to come.
Anyway, I thought it would be nice despite all of these things, for me to take a look at some poetry which was nearing completion before I set it down. And that I ought to take some time since I have a few minutes tonight to update my blog with another poem.
It has no title because it was part of another poem but it didn't seem to fit and the title didn't either. Here goes... Oh and if you have an appropriate title, suggest it.
I find myself in a shelter of fireplace quiet
There are scraps of daily calendars
covered in scratch or
fine, printed words and encased in
thick weather-beaten browned leather.
Discouraged, disheartened
a train wreck in despair
Some cannot understand,
will not listen, cannot hear
their one-answer religion, blocks voices – now silenced
now shrinking, crumpling in on itself, fine dust
tear this heart out, limply pulsing, lift it
up and let it –
ahhhhh (said with relief), breathe...
This bruised and battered heart slowly turns,
broken from hope,
yet others have faith, hope, for this same heart.
Last year's flower has closed and died
Perhaps a new bud will appear and your prayers lift,
to places I cannot imagine.
Environmental therapy has a short life span
the throbbing empty aloneness.
Stop and feel whatever
can be felt, listen
Listen, to what it (the throbbing empty aloneness)
alone can speak.
What is coming in, what is going out
allowing waves to wash over you
surprised by breathing under water
without gills
the future will always careen
out of control
you cannot force it,
you can, however, work until your soul fades into greyness.
(end of poem)
Actually, it says a lot about where I am now, as it said about where I was when I wrote it. Of course, it needs loads of revision but that's the first draft for ya.
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