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Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #1300042
Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on...
Trying make sense of life is maddening. Why do I need to know, when truth may not actually exist? Learning to accept would be a better pursuit. Flailing about in mediocrity, hoping to bust out.

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Such Longing: Poetry Of Nature Love
Product Type: eBooks
Amazon's Price: Price N/A

Journalist turned blogger.

Read me, don't read me. I'm going to dare you to read anyway.

I update my portfolio page as often as possible. glaedrfly 🇮🇹 Go there to see new messages. You will always see me. I am visible. You can put a face with a name. I would like other writers to crawl out from under their rocks and post their pics on main pages. Fiction is what you write, not who you are.

I also encourage you to read my notebook, biography and more. I'm always updating, because I am restless.

THANK YOU alfred booth, wanbli ska for the ribbon and continuous support!

My blogging days at Writing.Com began here [FOR MEMBERS] >>>
My Journal  [13+]
This is my pulpit. I'm no preacher, just long to be heard like the rest of us.
by glaedrfly 🇮🇹

Where I hide most of my poetry [FOR MEMBERS]. Warts and all, where I bare my chest and try to make sense of my craft.
Such Longing For A Blind Dreamer  (13+)
A journey through my life from early poetry to the present.
#1177939 by glaedrfly 🇮🇹
Previous ... -1- 2 3 4 5 6 ... Next
October 1, 2015 at 8:46am
October 1, 2015 at 8:46am
I'm working on something... Check back.
September 18, 2015 at 11:19pm
September 18, 2015 at 11:19pm
I don't want to overthink a poem while editing to make it more meaningful. This poem wound up in this week's spiritual newsletter and got me to revisit the phrasing and form of the poem. It lacks little structure, has its symmetry, but used the word 'pass' twice I noticed. I gave it a more themed spin, referencing faith and the rapture. I don't consider myself deeply religious, but find some poems want to send a message as this....

Alone In The Cavern  (E)
Darkness comes before the light.
#1822242 by glaedrfly 🇮🇹

Thanks to those that recently took time to read and point out I had another featured poem. I would have to read each newsletter in anticipation, surprised that my offerings are so frequently noticed. Very humbling and pleasant that others would take the time to make my writing known to others here.


September 13, 2015 at 12:15pm
September 13, 2015 at 12:15pm
Cracked upon the watery rock,
brilliant, clear,
glinting in virtuous light,
spread out and cast beyond
with immortal waves of time,
each word growing, further apart,
from the impact.

I've never seen this place in my mind
but I know it's there.
One image, one memory,
fractured, fading into the recesses;
I cannot coax it out anymore
to love, cherish,
radiance lacking warmth,
without someone to help me remember.

September 8, 2015 at 7:48am
September 8, 2015 at 7:48am
The only thing I ever wanted from anyone was their love and admiration and I would give wholly the same. I have felt rejection, the denial, the scorn and more all my life for my mistakes, failures and misunderstandings. Too ashamed and hurt to own up to my human condition or try navigate uncertain conversations, I've sealed myself off from a lot of the world instead of seeking kindness or forgiveness. I do not come equipped with the ability to open doors to the past, but live in the present and look to the future holding dearly to the loves I have now and hope that I do not fail again. That doesn't mean I don't waste time wondering what would have been if I had been a more fully functional being in my past.
August 28, 2015 at 12:01am
August 28, 2015 at 12:01am
I Don't Know Your Name  (ASR)
What's in a name? A passionate desire for an unnamed creature who dares come near.
#2055123 by glaedrfly 🇮🇹

I imagined being challenged by someone to get their attention because they didn't want to go by a name. How would you talk to someone who didn't want a moniker? At first, a college professor or some accomplished writer might choose not to acknowledge me unless I was descriptive enough to say something that would hold their attention like a professor who would get me to talk about the weather without using the standard terms or the word 'nice'.

The poem immediately took a turn as I started out by trying to address someone (completely fictional) using senses like smell. I googled fragrances and got ideas for future odes that use methods of identifying fragrances like wine and how scents are described like music.

I enjoyed this fifteen minute effort. I think I could write fifty poems a day. Where is my novel? So easily distracted with notions like a child, leaving projects out before picking up another and another until the room inside my head is cluttered and I have no desire to clean and go out to play.

Hmm. 😒
July 15, 2015 at 11:26pm
July 15, 2015 at 11:26pm
July 6, 2015 at 12:40am
July 6, 2015 at 12:40am
I struggle because I am not a good person. I'm told many are not, but I cannot tell who they are. I am humble in your presence, but carry a knife behind my back just in case.

Not the kind of words you want to hear from someone, but it's honest. Over time, we all seem to lower our guard to others. I've seen some people who can just open up and talk without a care and I envy them. I question why I am not brave and can find many examples from my past where I have been hurt. I lie and say I feel no pain, know no shame, because I do not want to seem weak, even to myself. I know fear.

But, I need love. I want to share it, guarded as I may be. But, when the words tumble out: restrained, tentative. I don't make a good first impression. So, I lie. I create a personality, a honed wit that doesn't have to get too personal. I leave rooms quick and seldom show up when the pressure to perform returns.

This makes me a bad person. My intention is to get you to like a shallow, hollow man. To leave the impression I'm knowledgeable, competent. I'll take a laugh, dominate a conversation and leave on top. I win?

I'm fooling myself. I know I have no friends, I just pretend. I want to love and can, but am afraid of rejection. I know it's because I never got past those days in high school and what happened to me as a teen. Yet, I have a loving wife and kids. I feel like I created this little community of four and dread each day that goes by that I might let one or all of them down.

I don't want to wear a veil, conceal weapons. I want the relief of knowing I can walk around warts and all and either give love or accept there is none to receive. It might be brave to post this, but I'll just go back in my shell and hide until my imposter has the nerve to come out.

Know that I love you all. Now I shall lurk and fade out.

Oblique  (E)
My troubled teen years reflected in this old poem
#1145653 by glaedrfly 🇮🇹
June 27, 2015 at 11:06pm
June 27, 2015 at 11:06pm
I was going to add more to this, set it up better. Maybe, another time...

If my life were fiction, my name would be Alice.

I watch my daughter day after day begin an adventure only to be led down the rabbit hole and leave her half-finished projects everywhere like her dad. She has us to make her clean up after herself, but I can't help wonder what she's meant for if she has a daydreaming father who still can't get his act together to this day.

There are too many distractions on our cul-de-sac, with an adjacent pond and park where she returns with her turtles, toads, frogs, and an occasional grass snake. She will pull up every rock looking for bugs, try to trap butterflies, birds, and yes, the little bunnies that eat our plants. She leaves her gear, toys, half-eaten food everywhere. I admit, I help her. I admire her catch of the day before we make her set them free, because we cannot raise a baby bird, especially hatch the ones that were tossed from the high nest.

There are lessons to learn, growing up to do, but do people like Maddie and I ever grow up? When is it time to be practical and do what's right and stop fawning at nature and all of its distractions and find a balance in our life that will allow us to be more functional, dependable human beings? There are so many things to awe at. Shouldn't I have learned by now about the trappings of chasing the white rabbit?

I have learned a lot in my life but routinely get trapped into notions of what I can ideate without putting in the effort to create at least my Frankenstein, a flawed but complete novel. I am the inventor/creator of musings that I alone can understand but cannot relate, even in context. I dialogue conversations real and fictional in my head, never to see them put to use other than to impose my fiction or version of the truth on another.

I'll admit, existentialism confuses me, yet I'm in that mix even now as I write. I want to be grounded. I want to be free. What gravitational forces force me from floating beyond my mind? Fear? The unknown? Don't we already know the harsh realities of failure without trying to explore some place dark and mysterious? Perhaps, if we had that one spirit/life guide. I would guide Maddie anywhere she fears to go, but I am afraid. I don't want to fail her as a parent, like the day-dreaming child in me who never found a true career path.

Time to climb back to the surface before I am trapped. I will explore these notions another day, though I may tire of trying. I'm overthinking it, I know. Can't I have a little drama before I rest?

Learning To Love & Fly  (E)
Inspired by two loves in my life and how the child becomes a woman.
#1992653 by glaedrfly 🇮🇹

...and no *Laugh*, I'm not on drugs! I said I was Alice, not Lewis Carrol...(read more)

June 9, 2015 at 8:50pm
June 9, 2015 at 8:50pm
"Note: Dear Big Brother, I wish..."
June 5, 2015 at 10:54pm
June 5, 2015 at 10:54pm
"At The Hands Of My Creator [E]
We aim for perfection and fall short in life. Everything is incompletion until we die, though we keep trying. Without aspirations, what would life be? To me, the beauty of this poem is that I don't force a rhyme in the final verse.

Such Longing: Poetry Of Nature Love
Product Type: eBooks
Amazon's Price: Price N/A

April 30, 2015 at 11:13pm
April 30, 2015 at 11:13pm
It started with some words in my head that I had to jot down.

For no one in particular, especially me...

Don't Kid Yourself (Honestly)

Where winds strafe the skies,
you hunker down to die.
Bunkered, fearing
invisible, aimless forces
dictating your destiny,
like you had one,
you suddenly realize
you weren't meant for anything.
You can begin to live,
appreciate even the smallest creatures
you've taken comfort amid;
rise above them all.
Soar into the unknown
and die with some dignity.
Fulfilled, you have ascended
into nothing.
April 19, 2015 at 7:14pm
April 19, 2015 at 7:14pm
Perhaps, I write because I need an alibi...



Am I in your head, yet? Let me know when you get inside, because I'm locked in here.

glaedrfly 🇮🇹
April 13, 2015 at 3:35pm
April 13, 2015 at 3:35pm
I hear a lonesome sound
when the wind rustles the trees,
And it's in me.
I sense the giant pines unrest
where birds hunker down;
quiet for more than an hour now.
The snowy owl hunts.
I buried the rabbit's fur
in the dark, silent bed;
spared from my her innocence
She'd hate the feathered visitor,
if she knew of his lust to live.
Why do we have to grow up?
Can we just have our rain;
get it over with?
I could tend to my garden.
I don't like the pines anymore.
They stir something within me
that I cannot silence.


I hear a lonesome sound
wind rustling the trees,
and it's in me.

I sense the giant's unrest
birds hunker down;
quiet for too long now.

The snowy owl still hunts.
I buried the rabbit's fur
in the dark, silent bed.

I spared her innocence.
She'd hate the feathered visitor,
if she knew of his lust.

Why do we have to grow up?
Can we just have our rain;
get it over with?

I could tend to my garden.
I don't like the pines anymore.
They stir something within me
that I cannot silence.

STILL needs work.

April 2, 2015 at 8:55am
April 2, 2015 at 8:55am
Hashing out poems with little potential here...

Insulated, numb
Can't feel you
Can't feel
My arrogance
Full, yet
I need
I need you

Across this desert
Can't drink life
Can't drink
Bones ache, cold
Yet, sweat

Visions, delusions
Are all I have
An empty gut
needs meat
Needs to eat
Yet, no hunger
Can't feel


My heart is a metronome
Always repeating
It's unrelenting

OR somehow haiku?

My heart is a metronome
Steady, beating
Echoing unrelenting love


Just Love Me Back

You feel the laughter
Hot on your ears
veins thick
With the humility
Hands forming
Defeated fists
While concealing eyes
Wanton intent
burning for a lifetime
Because of one moment
innocence, ignorance
Can't take back
publicly professed love
Poor Juliet
Had no intention
Was in no position
To echo back
Was it not love?
put you in that square
On the empty soap box
Where a part of you still remains.
Who am I trying to convince here?
Just love me back.
Maybe, I'll know.

One more, even more depressing...hashing out still and may never finish these...

Let me inhale the sweet gas
Fill these hungering lungs
Savor a (black, vile) mixture (that rolls down)
Beneath the gums

Then, send your (harsh, brutal) lips
So it will numb
Every fear of losing you
When we're done

My fantasy is your suicide
For one so young
To send sweet greetings
From your tongue

Deeper down I will go
Before I'm hung
On this poisoned remedy
I'm that dumb.

Why does rhyme either punctuate or kill the mood, message? So hard to know when to run to or from the desire to create these appetizing sounds that beg to be heard, implore an answer.
March 13, 2015 at 11:24am
March 13, 2015 at 11:24am
Though I love them, feel like telling my family as I walk out the door, "I feel my work here is done." Feels like they don't need me unless it is to have someone to dump on. I feel like I would be more productive as a writer if I had more than five minutes alone at a time in my head when inspiration to pick up a pen or keyboard strikes me again. So much negativity. Glad there's a break in weather. Couldn't come sooner.

Of course, I say, 'I feel like' because I cannot grasp this situation. Too many details to dissect but it is the same old stories about parenting growing children with a spouse who does not think like me, not on same page. And I don't rule in my roost without her final say. Mix in my idiosyncrasies that put me at a disadvantage and you've got the makings for another run-of-the-mill unfunny sitcom.

Blah. Don't feel like blogging more. Want 2014 back when I was full of hope like the plough horse after that dangled carrot. Field plowed, nothing sown. What could have gone wrong begs the reaper?

Is there a magic bag of seeds somewhere with the label, 'Never plant these' ??
January 30, 2015 at 8:11am
January 30, 2015 at 8:11am

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

Source: The Poems of Emily Dickinson Edited by R. W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999){/times}
December 5, 2014 at 9:06am
December 5, 2014 at 9:06am
A wise friend recently imparted some logic that I now pause to remember, when needed:
Memories are often flawed, but they do help keep us going during difficult times.

To separate fact from fiction, one may never be sure where the truth lies. I have so many fond memories that I look back on whistfully. Perhaps, kind acts that nourished this soul fade from faulty memory. I hold on to moments and reconstruct the associated feelings. Living a lie? Blissful ignorance? What else do I have to hold on to but to think she could have loved me?

More than a generation later, we still don't know. I just want to keep these memories alive to fool me to my grave. Perhaps, my life is perpetually in crisis, because the projections in my head feel like they're on a non-stop loop.

November 19, 2014 at 12:45pm
November 19, 2014 at 12:45pm
Surrounding Myself

Instead of surrounding myself with others who could lift me up, encourage me, I've surrounded myself with me. Everyone is at arm's length in my personal and internet life. I'll laugh and joke, but won't open up about my personal goals and dreams. So, I create a false persona to insulate myself from prying eyes, surrounded by walls of faceless names and one-dimensional sorts who are only good enough for a few moments discussion of the weather.

I met someone beautiful who I could get to know on a deeper, more personal level and let them slip through my fingers because I let myself get in the way. I desire companionship on the most unaffected, unconditional level to purge these demons that tear apart the rooms inside. The daily damage makes it more difficult to rise and search for the sun out my window. I am only compelled by commitment to family. Nothing left for myself but regret that I don't just walk out that door and journey to look for me.

I'm candid now. Fifteen minutes later and I might find distraction in a repetitive video game, latest Netflix or Hulu series, or reveries of a boy that dreamed a much better life for the man I am. I regret that I never approached you, reached for your hand and begged your eyes to look deep inside where I hide something beautiful that doesn't dare to come out without your skillful, nourishing light.

I'll flail some more in this darkness hoping I'll find you without effort. God, I don't want any more rejection. The little boy has had enough from the man.

Quiet, seek softness, while time wrinkles any hope for a future now becoming past. My midpoint, January, 2014. Sorry, for being obtuse. I'm slipping away again. 15 minutes...up.
October 3, 2014 at 11:18am
October 3, 2014 at 11:18am
It's not like the old days anymore. Not like we can meet for lunch at the Szechuan place on Third Street, where you educated me on Asian cuisine. And, not far from the University where we spent most of our hours either in class or working at the public radio and television studios, keeping in touch through the campus phone system.

It seemed like not a day would go by without a word for one another. And then you found somebody to "date." And when he would travel for his job, which was frequent, then we found time for each other again. When he was around, I was out of sight. But, one day I failed and it all came apart. I needed help and you brought him along to rescue me. And I did not offer my thanks. The words got stuck in my throat. He pointed it out to you, as you said. And I realized I was a threat, in his eyes.

So you were upset and I stayed away. Eventually we became friends again. But it was never the same. And then I had to move away and then you had to move away and we grew farther and further apart. I sent the last unresponded letters. I sent the last unresponded emails.

I saw something in you. You left me hanging. For years I have not been able to put together the puzzle of the last time we were together and I thought you had extended your hand touching mine on your daybed on accident. But now I wonder, was there a purpose? You did not let me know if you were still in a relationship. I sensed something in you I hadn't seen since the first time I thought there was an attraction and you managed to confuse me. So I did not respond. And now I have regrets to this day that I did not find out.

Over 20 years later, I found you and contacted you. And from the emails it seems like you're still the girl I used to know. You are married now. I am married now. And yet, the thing dogs me still, stuck in my brain. It should be harmless to ask. I cannot, should not, open that door, even though I stare at it every day wondering what lies beyond, wondering what I left inside.

Just know, whenever I dreamed of you, I felt I could be or do anything I wanted. Without you, I wonder if I'll ever realize my potential.

Goodbye again, LuAnne


Written long ago, though I could not share with you, he said wistfully, alone to the sky...

To Share In Your Garden  (E)
What could have been, if she had not been tempted by the fruit of another.
#1172766 by glaedrfly 🇮🇹

October 3, 2014 at 8:28am
October 3, 2014 at 8:28am
Been taking personality tests at Psychcentral.com to learn if suspected traits exist and not liking some results. Self diagnosis is cheap, painful and just as subjective, but not overseen by a paid professional who can drag out sessions for years, feeling no wiser for the experience.

I'm just going to tweet insights, adding whatever passes for wisdom here and in Notebook, as the psyche turns over each stone obsessively, finding no discernible clue to explain this vain existence.

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Printed from http://www.Writing.Com/view/1300042