I’m making this up as I go along
You in the other place
Singing echoing off the walls
in an imaginary paradise.
You in the other place
Eden entwined between
sheets and dreams
making it up as we go along
poem- crow
Walking across the sky light
in hob nail boots
wings unfolding like black cape
Crow visits the bird house.
wild photos November 8, 2013
It’s time to re-visit this great video from Banff National Park.
This is just cool. Wildlife taking self-portraits at Banff National Park.
.
poem- angel November 7, 2013
Angel on a pin
en pointe on the point
solo, pas de deux, or en compagnie
Dance
quote- Jodi McIsaac on truth in storytelling
“So it’s not just stories you want, then” Maggie said, eyeing Cedar keenly. “You want the truth. Well, there is truth to be found in stories, that’s for certain.”
“Not all stories are true,” Eden piped up from her father’s lap.
“They’re always true about something, little one,” Maggie said, passing Eden another cookie. “If not about what actually happened, then maybe about the person telling the story–or about the person hearing it…”
(Jodi McIsaac Into the Fire p. 136)
I particularly like the last sentence there, because half of the story is in the reader, and the connections s/he makes with it. More than that though, is the very fact that the reader picked that story says something, as does that the writer wrote that story. Subconsciously intentional choices are all around us. 😉
poem- NaNoWriMo doldrums November 6, 2013
NaNoWriMo
A month
to write
a novel
throughout the nations.
But on day 6
I already
require fibrillation.
So tired
So worn
and the end of day
My eyelids are drooping
and I think there’s no way
after pounding out emails
and working all day
I have any energy
for what writing entails.
But I’m half way through
a fun new novella
If I can just sit and type
avoid Facebook and Skype
write, write, write
then perhaps in spite
of procrastination
I’ll be able to sing
in celebration.
No need for special inspiration
just dedication to my narration.
poem- if November 5, 2013
If he loved her,
….she thinks
he would greet her every day
with a heart heating hug
with a spine kindling kiss
with glowing eyes.
If he loved her,
….she thinks
he would bid her sleeping form farewell
with grieving eyes
with cuddling kiss
with a heart felt hug
longing to remain.
If he loved her,
….she thinks
he would harness his white horse
unsheath his sword,
charge down her demons,
She doesn’t see,
that he is her champion,
if he sees who she is
and stays to fight for her
when she’s not looking.
She doesn’t see,
that he loves her.
I was around when Anna was born, and watched her grow, a small, quiet girl with an independent spirit right from the beginning. I love reading her blog. This one is particularly poignant, because I knew and loved her granny as well. No one had as young a spirit as she did.
Shawn L. Bird 