Awoken with a Loud Clanging Sound
You'll never believe this. (I know I don't).
A poem woke me up this morning. No, not one that was written, but one that was forming in my cranium. I gotta stop going to this writing class. It's starting to affect my sleeping pattern. Too much neuron stimulation and I'm a mess. I'd rather be dumb and rested. (Not really.)
It startled me with it's beginning;
"Lonliness rains on his heart
like a velvet mist"
and then left me to stir from 4:54 AM until 6:15 when the alarm throttled me. Of course I had to pursue it, so got a pad of paper and skipped my yoga workout and fleshed the thing out. I guess I never fancied myself a poet, but this is a good one.
Like all my writing (See yesterday's post) I don't know what to do with a rogue poem that seems like an orphan with one shoe and a bad limp. I can't really publish ONE poem. Should I type it out and carry it in my wallet? Put it on my tombstone? Fish wrap? Bird cage lining? A Nobel Peace Prize?
You realize what it's done now don't you? Now I have to write more. This class has stretched me to express myself in new ways, and poetry is one. Can you say mid-life? What the heck's going on? I not only enjoy reading it, but now I'm smitten with writing the stuff. What's next? The symphony and a developing taste for red wine? Furthermore, for the first time ever I'm considering writing some fiction. Why? Because it'll stretch me. Nothing more. And I want to see if I'm able to actually pull if off.
See what I mean? Why do I need stretching? What's so great about elasticity? Or rather, what's wrong with rigidity? Is this a temporary thing, or am I going to take up glass blowing next month? Trade in the SUV for a Saab? Hair transplants? Botox?
Oy.
Is this all part of the deal? Like acne for mid lifers? Something you have to get through to move on to the next thing, I guess. Well, let me tell you, I didn't expect this. I'm like a hormonal woman for crying out loud. (Crying out loud probably comes next.) Afraid of what I might be asked to do next. I do think guitar lessons are in my future though. They're definitely on my list of things to try. That and jumping out of a plane. For now though I'm...
blogging off
A poem woke me up this morning. No, not one that was written, but one that was forming in my cranium. I gotta stop going to this writing class. It's starting to affect my sleeping pattern. Too much neuron stimulation and I'm a mess. I'd rather be dumb and rested. (Not really.)
It startled me with it's beginning;
"Lonliness rains on his heart
like a velvet mist"
and then left me to stir from 4:54 AM until 6:15 when the alarm throttled me. Of course I had to pursue it, so got a pad of paper and skipped my yoga workout and fleshed the thing out. I guess I never fancied myself a poet, but this is a good one.
Like all my writing (See yesterday's post) I don't know what to do with a rogue poem that seems like an orphan with one shoe and a bad limp. I can't really publish ONE poem. Should I type it out and carry it in my wallet? Put it on my tombstone? Fish wrap? Bird cage lining? A Nobel Peace Prize?
You realize what it's done now don't you? Now I have to write more. This class has stretched me to express myself in new ways, and poetry is one. Can you say mid-life? What the heck's going on? I not only enjoy reading it, but now I'm smitten with writing the stuff. What's next? The symphony and a developing taste for red wine? Furthermore, for the first time ever I'm considering writing some fiction. Why? Because it'll stretch me. Nothing more. And I want to see if I'm able to actually pull if off.
See what I mean? Why do I need stretching? What's so great about elasticity? Or rather, what's wrong with rigidity? Is this a temporary thing, or am I going to take up glass blowing next month? Trade in the SUV for a Saab? Hair transplants? Botox?
Oy.
Is this all part of the deal? Like acne for mid lifers? Something you have to get through to move on to the next thing, I guess. Well, let me tell you, I didn't expect this. I'm like a hormonal woman for crying out loud. (Crying out loud probably comes next.) Afraid of what I might be asked to do next. I do think guitar lessons are in my future though. They're definitely on my list of things to try. That and jumping out of a plane. For now though I'm...
blogging off
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