As long as
I desire you at bedtime
and you desire me upon waking,
I think it will work out.
words July 4, 2013
I commit to write
one thousand words a day
So I am 3 437 words behind today.
Day four.
I read the manuscript
the W.I.P.
and laugh out loud
at scenes so real
I believe them.
More scenes
Good scenes
but
how do they connect?
Where will I
find the patchwork
pieces to make
this fit together?
I think.
I clip a poodle.
I think.
I clean the kitchen.
I think.
I make the bed.
I think.
I go to the gym.
I think.
I tell my students,
“Don’t think. Just write,
your brain is in your pen.”
So now I need
to take
my own advice.
Found poem- from the WordPress blog roll April 24 2013 17.46-18.04 hours PDT July 3, 2013
Still theoretically doing my Camp NaNo with no time to be composing poetry. (ech hem) So here’s another repost, this time from a few months ago.
(If you should see a line from your poem in this, please link to it in the comments!) Each line is taken from a poem on the blog roll, in order, backwards in time.
.
I can’t sing you a sad song.
patience for life’s lovers
all these people,
opened up,
howl like children
for something different in these places.
Mermaids only dream
our burning love.
I will not take
first dandelions,
each one a kiss
weighing heavy on my heart.
Warm breath on my neck,
I have burned.
I could write between the lines
the many masks of the broken child:
Rainbow sprays in the garden.
I love you still.
Lullaby sea
has aged gracefully.
Time has taken
the dewdrops of sadness
awaiting damnation,
silencing the crowds.
Blink of an eye,
…
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She’s gone
I’m trying to get some serious word counts in today on Camp NaNoWriMo, so enjoy a re-blog of a post from 2010. 🙂 See you tomorrow!
Today I’m thinking about all those times when we don’t hear what someone is saying to us very clearly, because we have our own agenda. Hearing the full truth may open a door we don’t want to open, but glorious things may be inside if we have courage to accept difficult changes.
.
She’s gone this time
And it’s for good.
Don’t beg. Don’t cry.
Because it’s good.
I know you can’t
See past your pain
And you wish all
Could be the same
She’s gone this time
And it’s for good.
Don’t beg. Don’t cry.
Because it’s good.
.
You’ve tried before
To re-arrange
A month or two
You make a change.
But if it’s about
Getting her back
You’re never changing
The greatest lack.
She’s gone this time
And it’s for good.
Don’t beg. Don’t cry.
Because it’s good.
.
Quit loving her
And love yourself
Take your…
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zinnia night July 2, 2013
Black night around us
you slice into my dream
and I see zinnias:
exploding fireworks,
vivid petals raining down,
Colouring our embrace.
A chorus line July 1, 2013
Two horses, white and bay
stand companionably
munching their lunches.
Atop the bay,
upon each vertebrae,
perches a bitty bird,
observing the world:
A small flock aligned
along an equine
telephone line.
The white mare, back bare,
munches, and muses
on popularity’s
winners and losers.
.
.
Coming home from work the other day, I looked into a field and was amused to see this sight. I wish I’d had my camera with me, but since I didn’t, here’s a picture made from words for you. 😉
no alcohol fuel
I do not need alcohol
to be drunk on you.
No need for Dutch courage
to face the daily chores.
No vomiting up my memories
of the night before.
With my absolutely clear head,
I am completely soused on us.
on being thoroughly mused June 30, 2013
For Outlander author Diana Gabaldon:
.
You
were not
just kissed
by the muse,
Diana, huntress,
goddess of the moon.
You were ravaged.
You were embraced;
your buttocks clutched
and hoisted high,
as the muse impaled you,
roughly pierced your soul,
raised hairs the whole length of you.
Seized by such divine inspiration,
you stretched, back arching,
and received the pulsing
thrusts of
.
w
o
r
d
s
,
w
o
r
d
s
,
w
o
r
d
s.
.
Excruciating
ecstasy
that called forth
rippling quivers,
left you heaving,
complete,
replete,
and pregnant
with story.
.
.
This post began with a random comment made on Diana Gabaldon’s Facebook page yesterday, and here we are! My first erotica! ((blush)) lol
.
For those who wondered, yes, Diana has seen this, and I even have a recording of her laughing lustily about it, as we were wrapping up our blue pencil at SIWC 2013. 🙂 Her comment, should you not be able to read the image is, “Wow! That’s a GREAT poem Shawn! I’m truly honoured #mindIusuallyhavetodomoreofthework”
In August 2013 she dedicated her Daily lines to me:
The daily lines in question can be read here:
http://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1rlp46l
And if you’re a fan of Outlander and are now watching the TV series, you may enjoy the poem Dear Sam Heughan from August 2013 when Sam was first cast to play Jamie: Diana has seen this one as well, and coached me through some necessary vocabulary alterations (see notes at the end). 😉
summer storm June 29, 2013
Whoa.
On upturned pots and pans
some rocking sky child,
some deity’s progeny,
is beating, bashing
crashing, smashing
a percussive cacophony,
complete with
slashing, flashing
light show.
.
And not content
at blinding glow
he rumbles low
and shakes the ground
with reverberating sound.
Wild rocking child,
with his smashing
crashing
garage band in the sky.
In solid streams
sweat’s pouring down
and plastering the ground;
thus he howls his greeting
to July.
Writers Must Be Readers. Period.
Great selection from Stephen King’s On Writing, shared by The Ink Slinger.
“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There’s no way around these two things that I’m aware of, no shortcut…
“The real importance of reading is that it creates an ease and intimacy with the process of writing; one comes to the country of the writer with one’s papers and identification pretty much in order. Constant reading will pull you into a place (a mind-set, if you like the phrase) where you can write eagerly and without self-consciousness. It also offers you a constantly growing knowledge of what has been done and what hasn’t, what is trite and what is fresh, what works and what just lies there dying (or dead) on the page. The more you read, the less apt you are to make a fool of yourself with your pen or word processor…
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