Sometimes it’s clear
there wasn’t much to say.
Some days words are woven into tapestries
of vivid hues and diamond bright
But other days words are wrapped around night,
just vast blackness,
nothing for a reader to hold onto
to pull themselves into the light.
secretly
you scribble,
hiding words,
worshipping
silently.
.
.
.
So many kids constantly writing, but not handing in their work! Arg!
I’m filled with words
Your words.
My words.
Our words.
A story concocted in laughter.
A story unraveling fears.
A story exploding conjecture.
A story that brings forth your tears.
I am filled with our words
softly spoken
I am filled with our words
shouted loud
I am filled with our words
barely whispered
I am filled with our words
lacking sounds.
Your words.
My words.
Our
story.
.
.
Enjoying a lovely weekend with amazing authors like Charles De Lint, Kathryn Para, Anne De Grace at the Word on the Lake Writers’ Festival. Collected a lovely certificate and cheque for a writing contest prize, as well. 🙂
Sometimes I get the feeling
our words are arrows
passing each other,
feathers steering a fine point
that misses its mark.
You declare a bulls eye,
but your arrow’s embedded in your neighbour’s target.
My arrow twitches in the straw
waiting for another chance.
A quiver full of words
I hope each aims true,
but sometimes the flight path
looks quite different to you
Release your words
Let them go
Have faith that they will flutter like leaves
around
above
upon.
Some will watch and smile as the leaf words go by.
Some will study, approve, disprove, analyze, consider.
Some will see the words upon their landscape, sweep them up
send them away.
One might press your words to savour for another day.
Leaves offer scent, food, shade, beauty, and garden humous.
Every purpose is good.
Release your word leaves
to the purposes they find,
whether they’re what you intended,
or not.
Let them go.
Have faith.
Sometimes,
my CPU revs up
like an airplane,
races down the run way;
my typing thuds unexpected spaces,
but my words take off
and fly around the world.
.
.
.
(old computer, noisy fan. It does sound like a revving plane!)
My words
want a place
up high, where they
can fly in on pieces of sky,
and settle into story.
My words
want a place
where the stripe of the highway
guides them here and away.
My words
want to sit in
molten sunbeams
simmering as ideas, waiting
to bubble into book life.
My words,
wish the window wasn’t
so far away, and the world
outside did not beckon
with so many responsibilities.
My words
want a place
where time stops,
where only they and I exist
and together, we mold worlds.
“No one
in the publishing industry
takes a blog seriously,”
said the presenter
“until it has at least
ten thousand followers.”
I thought about my three hundred
loyal followers and sighed.
I would never manage that.
For six months I thought
about her words, knowing what
WordPress said to do,
and how I wasn’t doing it.
So one April, two weeks
before I gave a social media workshop,
I tested their theories.
In two weeks, 444 followers
became a thousand.
Hmm. I thought.
If I keep doing this,
I could have ten thousand
in a year or so.
So I visited other blogs,
commented, and liked their work.
Introducing myself, and noticing others.
It’s the old mantra
‘the only way to have a friend
is to be a friend.’
and here we are!
14 months later,
ten thousand people
see my posts, leave their comments,
share my words, welcome me into their world
laugh with me
offer suggestions,
and make every day
interesting.
I send ten thousand
thank yous to each of you.
I’m grateful you’ve joined my journey
that you share your lives and your time.
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you.
Counting words
ten at a time
twenty
thirty
Aiming for word count
three
thousand
words
345 down
2655 to go
Why can’t I ever
start writing
before eleven
p.m.?
Your words are joy
Not just the message in them
but the fact you composed them
for me.
I am grateful
that you are in my world,
that you take time to write
for me.
Shawn L. Bird 