Back in the writing saddle and poetic musings from the lake

I have done something that I never should have done; I have not done this blog as I should have. I have fallen short. I have sinned and failed to be an obedient whatever … etc. But I’m gonna try to do better … and let me explain why for a second.

As sometimes happens, life can remind you when you are off track. I’m the first to admit that funks in life come and go. They are like the poor, laundry and LEGOs. They aren’t just with you always; you are gonna find them and step on them from time to time.

What I haven’t been doing is enough of the things that I love. I haven’t made the time. I have let myself get sidetracked. Life happens.

And one of the things that I’ve let slide for too long is writing … for me, mostly. And also for any of you who might have some interest in my musings … yes, all three of you.

Writing, you see, isn’t about the finished product. A few years ago, I wrote a novel that has turned into one of the best virtual dust collectors I have. I also wrote a series in a project about happiness. What I learned from doing those things is, for me, writing is therapeutic and performance art.

A recent epiphany about me: I am a performer at heart. I grew up singing, played in band and bands, and generally looked for occasions to perform — in school, in whatever. I’m sure that someone can write up my psych profile. It is as “they” proverbially say, what it is.

And what it also is — well, it is also an outlet. It’s therapy for me … and believe me, the cost of a blog is cheaper than professional help.

So, I’m gonna try to use this thing again. And I have some plans that I’ll share in the coming days. But for now, I’ve been on a bit of quest the last few days… to rediscover those things that I’m passionate about and to make a plan and start back on my journey.

So, you are either the beneficiary or the guinea pig…

While I’ve been away, I wanted to find some every day images and marry up some free verse and the images I took. These are all from the lakehouse of a friend (who kindly let me escape a few days). Hope you enjoy the verse and the pics.



Aside the still waters

Aside the still
Waters … where lapping, the stones, submerged,
Rested, unaware of a remolding embrace.
Breaking down, drop by each loving touch of a drop;
Ancient stone, in compliant dementia to the peaceful siren song.
Enraptured by…
The giver
The taker
The partaker
The drug of life
Dependent are we, caught, addicted to your charms
Unaware that your drops will misconstrue, break us
Reform us
I’m unworthy to be baptized by you
“Then, struggle no longer; Come, kiss my lips.”
Fingers outstretched IMG_2885
“What more can I do?”
Reaching down, pulling at answers he will not receive,
Responses, more than he bargains.
“But …”
Fingers outstretched… reaching out,
Grasping for straws
Gasping for air
In the silence, filled with light.
Fingers outstretched — embraced
As he is, where he is.
Enfolded by allusion… or illusion
Of a mother, a father, a lover, a friend
An oasis in joy or despair
and if truth be told, who would really care?
The lake at twilight
Bob is a loud-ass fish, unlike some scaly fisheren.
Slimy, bold and a oh so proud.
Stealthy in his swimmy charms.
Caring not about Kardashians, ineqaulity or bearing arms
They come, and bring their bags.
With bangs and bams and zips and yags
And Bob greets them with the subtle, silent baits …
Water and air
Remembering …
The trap is set
The prey is unaware
The twilight will claim another victim
For it is not you that comes to Bob…
It is Bob that comes, and finds, a needy you.

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