Snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow snow snow
snow snow snow snow
snow snow snow snow snow
snow snow snow snow snow snow
snow snow snow car snow snow snow
.
.
.
(It just occurred to me, that I don’t remember if I put a brush in my car yet this year. Fingers crossed! ’cause there’s a lot of snow falling outside my window!)
I’m
circling
I’m
adding,
growing, and
learning.
I’m
becoming
the dream me
I see her
in
laughter
applause
award
I’m
circling
up to the prize
it’s closer
and
closer
with every
word.
.
.
I just came back from the annual Surrey International Writers’ Conference. My first year there, I successfully pitched to a publisher. My third time I successfully pitched to an agent. When I first started attending, I admired the amazing writing of the winners of the $1000 Storyteller Award and the humorous writing by the winners of the 75 word Silly Write contest. I dreamed of winning those contests. I’ve entered a couple of pieces 5 or 6 times over the years. This year I didn’t have a project to pitch, but I submitted to both contests. I was short listed for the Storyteller (3rd year in a row short listed for a writing contest at SIWC!) and my entry came second in the Silly Write. I was thinking “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” 🙂 On the other hand, I feel the precipice I’m standing on- I am appreciating the fine line of difference between good and great.
When several hundred people are laughing at your jokes and cheering when your name is called, you can’t help but feel inspired.
You know how there comes a time when the craftsman requires particular tools to create true art? Because of the amazing craft workshops I attended (Donald Maass, Diana Gabaldon, Susanna Kearsley, Shari Green) and meal conversations (Larry Brooks, Nephele Tempest, Jack Whyte) I feel like I’ve been given the master tools that will make the difference to leap off the precipice and FLY. I feel that intangible sense that things are about to change, and I’m excited!
Life is balanced
on a pinpoint.
Home, food, health, connections, work, meaning
sway precariously.
If one is pulled,
all is impacted:
Rocks and
Tips.
.
.
.
I’m thinking today of an extended family member who was in a serious car accident recently. One moment, all is well, the next some guy isn’t watching the road, jumps a meridian, and you’re in emergency. If you’re sole support, and you’re off work for a year of recovery, how does that impact everyone around you?
I told you
I’d love you forever
You told me you loved me
and we’d be friends forever.
I meant every deluded nuance.
You figured optimism works out
but you also said you couldn’t answer
to what would happen if I snuck into your room
and you woke to my face hovering above you.
That intriguing notion made me giggle at the joke.
But you kept your door locked, just in case.
Did you hear the door knob rattle?
Then the plane took off,
without me hiding in your luggage
as you’d suggested I could.
Our next phone call clarified
the kindness of lies.
and the length reality stretches
to cling to an illusion.
I’ve been grateful for
the elasticity of spurious delusion
every day of my life.
I craft my reality in my imagination:
You are whoever I make you to be.
Do I cover you with armour?
Compel piano mastery?
Some loves last through time:
mythical love need not be mocked.
What you hear, is never what truly was.
It’s what was crafted to tell the tale that needed to be told.
You are a character in the love story,
and I can always kill you off in
literary impunity.
.
Shape poem of a chess piece. Clear? Metaphor of the game. Get it?
T h i s i s a
t
r
e
e
.
.
(with apologies to Joyce Kilmer, who’s right, ’cause it isn’t as lovely as the real thing)
On this
summer day,
lost in you,
I see no end.
.
.
.
This poem is my 1500th post! 🙂
There are a few ways to read this one, each painting a slightly different picture.
you
me
. sauntering
strolling .
. meandering
traipsing .
. ambling
lumbering .
. lurching
staggering .
. tottering
striding .
. marching
lunging .
we
embrace
.
.
.
I hope this works on your monitor. The 2 perspectives should come evenly from either side to meet at “we / embrace”
The
lampposts
.
.
are
invisible
.
.
in
this mist
.
.
and
so the
.
.
haloed
bulbs,
.
.
floating,
glow:
.
.
UFOs
above
.
.
the
road.
.
.
.
Shawn L. Bird 