write away the day

how does one write away a day? 

wine running warm in my veins

wandering from room to room

touching the embroidered duvet

on the futon that is my bed

glance and smile at the flickering candle

on the small altar in the corner of my room

the cat who sits on the stool beside me

knows life times nine and shows

no outward quaver

life surfs on

Vicarious life

we drank and drank sought

oblivion but none came

nor euphoria nor

altered plane

just

a steady numbing yet i

heard it all and saw

it all missed not

a single

thing

he was indeed a poet of

no mean proportion

a short-lived van

gogh of

words

bent to self-destruction on

his path to knowing

no mouth just lips

a line drawn

thin

lids distort the sound of eye

crepe covers brittle bones

dry laughter dying

hardly heard at

all

times i wonder why we bother

what is the draw spoken raw

pleasure pain parallel of

love and hate vicarious

life

do we want too much to feel or

taste anything that we take up

everything so greedily we

chase the siren’s

call

Write a Novel in 30 days?

Fifty thousand words

written in thirty days time

pen at the ready.

The National Novel Writing Month site went live earlier today.  I’m registered, of course.  

Call us masochists, writers have that streak, but every year at 12:01 a.m. November first we log on by the thousands and commit to write our ‘great American novel’ or at least 50,000 words towards that end.

It’s an amazing challenge, and very many of us get through and beyond 50,000 words.  Some continue to edit after November 30, and a rare few persist and actually find their way to a published book.  

Those few inspire the rest of us, to come back each year with fresh ideas and go at it all over again.  Hope springs eternal.

50,000 words in 30 days; that’s  1667 words a day.  It’s doable folks. I intend to use 30 days of my countdown for my nanowrimo novel. 


NanoWriMo.org

Excerpt of my 2011 Novel

 

Fall’s yellow rain

I noticed the leaves

this morning as I journaled

every breeze blew their

golden yellow rain

past the sill of my aerie

glad rags to mourning

In the beginning

I was there with the first myth makers and monks who made up your stories.  – Rilke’s Book of Hours

I believe that’s true

I was there then, before, since

At one with I am

We are our choices

no Yang without Yin
we all have that dark within
we must make choices

moment to moment
twixt the two and in the end
we are our choices

20120930-202019.jpg

Changes

I wrote the poem below, long before this journey began in earnest. I knew then, that I wasn’t following full time, my dream.

Pulled in so many directions by an exceptional (modern terminology for lots of problems) child. It was necessary to have the best job with great insurance and live in the best neighborhood with the best schools with special education programs. After that, a husband with cancer…I won’t belabor the point – I’m sure you get it and I’m not the only one that works the 9-5 and then some to provide for family.

Well those days are long gone and I somehow stayed in that rut. No more. It is so time to move on. I planned this once before (the poem below was written in 2007), but somehow I got sidetracked – not this time. I’m exploring the whispers and giving them form, so it is no longer ephemeral. I’m making ‘real’ the change that once ‘rode the night wind.

my future rides the night wind
ruffles curtains, caresses skin
whispers promises at the edge of dream
leaving traces of something almost seen

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Critics are people, too

most people hate change20120928-201836.jpg
admit it or not they do
poor jk rowling

critics are people
they expect more harry’s world
so pan the new book

I personally am enjoying the book, A Casual Vacancy by J.K. Rowling.  I’ve just begun, but it’s drawing me in and I’m loathe to turn off the light, but Friday’s a work day.  I’ll review the book soon as I can.

Laying life on the line

she sat pen in hand
journal open before her
her life paced the lines

glory inglory
marching cadence cross the page
bare and unadorned

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Time like spare change

time spent like spare change

change so easily replaced

time forever gone

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