I am sad, embarrassed, ashamed, humiliated, devastated that I abandoned my writing for 4 months. 😦 I’m just sad.
Writing saved my life. I think. I started processing PTSD through writing. I’m starting at Ringling College this fall in the creative writing program. I was just accepted. I just haven’t had time to write. That makes me so friggin’ sad.
So. To take my mind to the gym…a poem. To start again.
I control these words.
I form these sentences and sentiments.
Like gods and ice carving rivers from mountains.
Whisper in your ear
Blow through your mind
Stone yields to time/force/logic
These are my paths.
These are my streams.
This is my ocean
Of ideas and dreams.
This is the inside of me.
Thank you for hearing my voice.
This bad poetry brought to you by Starbucks home brew. 😉
Expert at failure
But this hope still floats
Story to be shared
Adventure to be dared
Spare your prayers
This program will be aired
Or turn it down
The volume may change
But captions aren’t sound
Words are born
Veils are torn
Before the mourning
Offering of warn
You can write me off
I’m okay without your views
I can pen a thousand tales
You can’t silence my news
To some I’m needed medicine
To others I’m just noise
When the world sharpens me to a
fighting, biting, writing point
You are the velvet, toothy paper on which I wrestle.
The soft place that stores my hurt and heart.
You never tear.
Even with my harsh words and unrestrained pain.
Your blank page is a fluffy-white cloud of kindness and medicine.
I have 3 publications on Amazon.
Present Tense is 99 cents today. Check it out. I can’t always offer these on sale, but it is right now, so go grab it.
My game play manual is FREE!!! right now, so check that out! Updo Salon & Spa It’s cheap at $2.99, otherwise. It’s a whole night of fun with your galfriends! Fun to just read, you don’t even have to throw the party, but you’ll want to.
Then I have my newest pub, House Full of Hope, a play. 99 cents today as well! Thanks for checking me out OR just joining me in celebrating my New Addition. LOL Bad joke, I know.
Writing a book or blog article or play is very much like giving birth. There is immediate joy after the delivery and you forget how bad you felt in labor. But even in the tears, even in the pain, there is joy to be found and pleasure to be experienced.
Forgive me if I’m the mom who is making you look at all the cute pictures of my new spawn! LOL I’m just so excited to offer low prices (or FREE) on my babies!
Last year, for my birthday, I decided that I wanted to upgrade my WordPress blog. It’s a gift to myself because this blog, and writing in general, has been the single most beneficial thing to my mental health that I have ever done.
It’s cheaper than a therapist.
I’m reaching out in a community of thoughtful people and plumbing the depths of honesty and reality. Exploring my creativity and ability to learn anything over 40. I’m a self-taught writer and in love with words. Mine and other people’s. I never knew that until here. This.
I always hated reading. I loved certain books, but reading was difficult for me. I would usually lose my place when I read, start thinking of other things (Did I just read an entire paragraph and think about dogs at the same time? What did I just read? I just read this same paragraph 5 times and I still didn’t retain it.) and never finish the 3 chapters of History that are due tomorrow.
But I love seeing the insides of people’s brains here on WordPress. Some of you are flat-out word Picassos. Thank you. Wish I had more time to read now.
So now, every year around my birthday, I’m reminded of the gift I gave myself when I renew my subscription. A lifetime of thoughts and memories written down like a book of love. Realizations that I have forgotten with day-to-day living. Measurement of how far I’ve come. And a reminder that I have a group of people who care what the inside of my brain looks like. ❤
Happy early birthday to me. 🙂
This is a repost. Still like it.
There was a tentative crab
Crawling out to sun.
Sideways and unsure.
I could barely see
Against the sea,
But once I found him,
I couldn’t lose his shiny-gray body.
My head half-buried in the sand.
Body unmoved. Just my eyes.
And the light felt silvery as the sun was falling.
And my skin felt brown and warm in the silver.
GrayCrab skittered about, back and forth,
Picking up dark blades and sea offerings.
But then, he disappeared
As quickly as the shore.
Down his hole,
Back to his underground palace
Filled with treasure, shells, spells,
Beach snail friends, and wonderful tales.
See you later.
Poets are a greedy breed
Wanting payment for the words we bleed
Doesn’t have to be money though
Could be any form of honey slow
I am a cheap literary device
Lost in a fool’s paradise
It doesn’t take much to suffice
A few choice words would certainly be nice
Like and share and clap and tweet
Whistle and smile and snaps are sweet
I could live high on likes alone
Chew forever on those juicy bones
Slake my fervent fever thirst
Say my poem left you submersed
Just sitting there with your eyes glistening
With open heart, still and listening
Payment enough for this amateur litterateur
Litter my Press with delusions of grandeur
I went wading through
Some poems last night
Knee-deep in poetry
Is a bit of all right
I stood for a while
In the middle of creation
Sat, lapping up rap
Deep in meditation
I’m not averse to being immersed in verse
Ruminating in rhymes is a blessed curse
Seussifying incessantly isn’t so much worse
Words submerge in this subversive’s universe
Snag my net
Throw me my pen
Hold your breath
I’ll begin again and then
The waves of expression flow o’er me
I flail in their overwhelm
It’s not a boat you float upon
Tethered to the weathered, flying helm
You dive down, risk the drown
Wrestle in swells, quill ’til it quells
Gasp for breath on the shore beyond death
Thankful for absent bells’ knells
Poetry’s not something to navigate
You have to swim with the fishes
You have to get wet, not just whet, but ret
Then wring out the sweat-filled wishes
Don’t be afraid of the creatures that crawl
Among and along imagination
It’s only thoughts and ideas after all
Not an underwater psychotic’s vacation
Sputter your products onto the shifting sand
Swirl them around with your trembling hand
When you have the shaky strength to stand
You’ll grasp and understand this languid liquid land
I will linger in this language until the end of time
Reeling in this important feeling
Sharing with the rest of the world
My brain’s ability for healing
My cover is blown
Faith has flown
No light has shone
I just want to be known
Real to the bone
Tough as stone
Luck on loan
Writing’s my own
I don’t get paid for writing.
Born in emotion
Tension of depth
Raise the stakes
Writing for joy