Adventures in the Written Form
Bright is the morning
As dusty snow swallows the peaks
The wind itself is bitter cold
And I am alone
Dark is the room
Where leaves blow in
And cobwebs hold up the walls
Empty but for me
Steam rises slowly
And the tea leaves dance
Carefree like we once were
Before that day
Rain fell hard
On that field of stone
My heart bitter and empty
When you left
Since you died
Each day past
Is harder than the last
Without you
Image by Efes Kitap from Pixabay
Foreign Films
A chance to see the world
For those that can’t travel
Classic Cinema
A chance to see the world
As it once was for those who weren’t there
Future Shows
A chance to see the world
As it could be, both good and bad
Horror Pictures
A chance to see the world
And make really bad decisions
Comedy Flicks
A chance to see the world
And laugh at our own foibles
Drama Features
A chance to see the world
And feel for the loss of others
Documentaries
A chance to see the world
Through the eyes of the downtrodden
The Power of Movies
A chance to see the world
Through the eyes of another
Not sure if you’ve noticed, but poetry isn’t exactly my forte. It’s a writing form that I throw my hand into every now and then. Some attempts have been successful enough (to me) while others I want to hide under a stack of papers and hope they disappear forever.
I’ve been re-involving myself in the process of writing on paper (gasp) for ten minutes first thing in the day to get the creativity flowing. All in the pursuit of ‘a writing practice’ while I push through on book four of the Matilda series. For some reason, I decided that poetry would be my short-form practice during the month of November.
While in the midst of NanoWriMo, a short-form story type would do the trick. What better way to get the ole noggin juices flowing and not get locked into / excited about / a different storyline, right? And why not choose a format that I wanted to work on anyway? Sounds all great and logical, doesn’t it?
So I thought, too. I have enjoyed writing in the various poem formats and had forgotten there were so many. But I have a confession to make. Poetry is hard for me, especially first thing in the morning. Before breakfast. Before that first cup of coffee. Eesh! It has an extra level to it that my brain doesn’t want to figure out right off the bat. Oh yeah, structure.
You see with a story, the first draft can sometimes be a heaping pile of word vomit, but you can dig out the shiny candy-like marble of goodness and build on that. Poetry, on the other hand, feels (to me) like the first draft is all in your head and you have to edit from thought before it hits the paper.
I find that exceedingly difficult to do! Makes me wonder if I bit off more than I can chew. I mean, I did choose to work on poetry because it isn’t easy for me. And to be honest, it has become more problematic. Yesterday alone was a fight to the bitter end. And today? Well, today was quick and autobiographical. Made me a wee bit sad, too.
Anyway, I will continue to struggle my way through my self-given task and hope for the best. Who knows, maybe I’m just doing it wrong. Or I haven’t found what works for me.
Or maybe, just maybe, I should wait until after that first cup of coffee. Yeah, maybe that.
Image by Alberto Adán from Pixabay
When I was small
I would look up into the night sky
And dream of a way off this rock
When I was a teen
The shuttle exploded and all was lost
But still, I dreamed of taking flight
When I was a young man
We made movies of traveling the stars
As close as my dreams could take me
Now that I am old
Stories in space flow from my hand
And yet still, I dream of a way off this rock
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
“Has anyone heard the tale
Of the vegetable heist that failed?”
Asked the bear near the door
On the farm near the shore
Deep in the hidden dale.
The fable is short and sweet
Some say it’s a little offbeat.
“Is the story a riddle?”
Asked the cat with the fiddle
And pounced without missing a beat.
“It’s happening right now!”
Cawed the crow near the plow.
She hopped to a sack
And gave it a whack
And carrots fell out by the cow.
“The thief is around!”
Squealed the pig with a frown.
As she looked to and fro
She tripped on the hoe
And suffered a blow to her crown.
“Who could it be?”
Asked the wily donkey
As he wiggled his mane
Which jingled his chain
That looped around the old oak tree.
“Oh goodness, oh Goddy!
I could use a hot toddy,”
cried the rabbit with no head
Who thought he was dead
but had only misplaced his body.
“Was it you?” asked the bear
with nary a care
“If we look at the clue
It could be only you.”
and that was the end of the affair.
Toilets in Japan are dangerous, please be aware
If you’re not careful, three spirits you’ll meet
Don’t summon the Yōkai, not even on a dare
Toilets in Japan are dangerous, please be aware
If the door swings open, it’s too late to retreat
Toilets in Japan are dangerous, please be aware
If you’re not careful, three spirits you’ll meet
Pale young girl in an old red dress
Hanako-san, Hanako-san, are you there?
Third stall to the left is where she’ll coalesce
Pale young girl in an old red dress
Drag you to hell or dismember you there
Pale young girl in an old red dress
Hanako-san, Hanako-san, are you there?
Have you seen my legs? Teke-Teke asks from the floor
The woman stands on her hands with no lower half
She waits as she watches from under the door
Have you seen my legs? Teke-Teke asks from the floor
Answer wrong and she’ll cut you in half
Have you seen my legs? Teke-Teke asks from the floor
The woman stands on her hands with no lower half
Red paper or blue is the option that he’ll state
Ako Manto, masked and adorned in a long red cape
Choose blue and you’ll be strangled ‘til you suffocate
Red paper or blue is the option that he’ll state
Red and your back is flayed ‘til it hangs like a drape
Red paper or blue is the option that he’ll state
Ako Manto, masked and adorned in a long red cape
Bathrooms in Japan are dangerous, you have been warned
The lesson is simple, do your business at home
Killed by a ghost, a ghost you’ll be reborn
Bathrooms in Japan are dangerous, you have been warned
Don’t become an angry soul left to wander and roam
Bathrooms in Japan are dangerous, you have been warned
The lesson is simple, do your business at home
Image by Miguel Á. Padriñán from Pixabay
Powder sprays and trees rush by
Knees bent to bear the brunt
Rattle, shackle and twist hard to the side
Yard sale!
I miss Irish coffee mornings
Image by Hans Braxmeier from Pixabay
Tiny instrument
Bright and cheery are the tones
Four strings, small wood frame
Laughter and smiles abound while
Songs of melancholy ring
Image by FrankensteinsMobster from Pixabay
There once was a cat from Colorado
Who was quite the tiny desperado
She’d sit in your lap
Slap you for pats
With an overblown sense of bravado
Image by MihaiGuzun from Pixabay
