A new decade of musings from poetry to what inspires; casting words like seed worldwide.
I've read poetry that opened my eyes, realize now mine have been closed when I write.|
The drive north is easier than south in summer.
If you only write when inspired, you may be a fairly decent poet, but you'll never be a novelist. -NEIL GAIMAN
And here I am
A new start for an old blog -- replaced by "SuperNova Afterglow: Shining Brighter" , now at capacity as of 2018, focused on specific writing projects and goals:
Having no specific aim going forward...
I've hammered away at this glass with forefinger since resurrecting in 2014. I'm always ready to say too weary. Compulsion compels me, instigation informs, and still here I am...bright, full of light and dark, revealing hidden colors and shapes. That was before...
I hear what you are saying...but especiallly...what you are not.
Yes, I struggle. But I'm getting through it. How are you?
I've gone by other aliases. People remind me of that. Sometimes restrained, it's hard to understand what I write. It will be clear some day. Hard to hide what's in my heart. I'm making no apologies going forward for my feelings. Not interested in the trap of stereotypes. Not sure how we'll feel about that.
What I used to say: 'Maybe, I just don't get it. Watch me fumble with my version of reality, expose ignorance as truth. You don't have to get me, either. But, wish someone would explain me to myself.'Now that I've figured out the ever changing rules of your game, you take the ball away, no longer engage me to play. You pay a price for this kind of friendship. I lose, I guess.
|From my offline archives...
Some things never change:
Like the soul trying to find deeper meaning
In a mud pile mixing with garbage,
Clutching anything resembling gold
Our sentimental eyes could savor.
While a gleam emits from eyes
A viewer will see a reflection
Of what we dream to realize
And reconnect with what could be,
While not acknowledging inspiration
Emitting in that scene.
Disconnected, we go
Our separate ways, reconfiguring,
Wishing for something more than
Just this reality,
Roaming from scene to scene
With a mind that continually dreams.
Never using eyes that really see,
What’s in our crosshairs:
A horizon rising and setting,
A sun and a moon that scheme
To be just out of reach
For souls roaming quite innocently
Without using eyes
For the evidentiary.
|Ten years turns into twenty --
Do admit, thirty --
In the blink of the mind’s eye,
Holding a vision of you
Once upon a time.
Thirty minus ten minus ten,
Won’t get me back there again,
Back to the precipice,
Feeling afraid to mount
I could have made for you
Why didn’t I try?
Ten years times three,
Across this internal sky,
That won’t let go of a vision
Of you and I.
If I had just tried,
That summit, never mountain,
That dream envisioned,
Surrounding me still
Toward the unknown horizon escaping,
A linear vision,
I missed my chance.
needs one more edit for ending
|From my offline poetry journal....
Timing’s off --
waited too long to witness you
lopsided, hung up early
in the dark
In these trees
In my disease
Waiting too long to acknowledge
two days too late
Can’t imagine why so distracted
why I can’t put off
what can wait
when you rise again
in this slow season
Clear a path through this night
to the other side
to stay awake
all night and know
when I’ll have another friend join
to greet a new day
Timing’s been off
waited too long for a vision
of glowing beauty
Doesn’t come along often
Got to make the time
when night arrives again.
About the moon.