Nothing much to say today
My thought have dried and blown away.
No joyful verse with a cherry ring
no lyrics for anyone to sing
no humor, no sorrow, no angry rants,
about liars with fires in their pants
no sentimental sop, no wishful dreaming,
no outraged protests to be read screaming
no flights of fancy or bumble bees,
no pleading to deities on my knees.
Nothing much to say today,
the muse has stolen my words away.
I have a lalpful of cat this morning.
He’s large and orange and purring and
does not care one bit that I need to write today.
I suppose this is the crazy cat lady version of,
“the dog ate my homework”
I can almost feel blood pulsing
through the capillaries that carry it
down
to my fingertips
as I press the computer keys
to type this drivel.
I have nothing much to say
but I need to say it for another five days,
because April is the month of
30 poems in 30 days,
and this is only number 25.
So if you stick with me, gentle reader,
you may learn more of my
very, very ordinary life
my cats, my dog,
my weird little hangups,
and weirder little random thoughts
that stroll through my head
mostly unbidden, and usually hidden from you and you and you.
Finish things.
That was Neil’s advice
to me and you.
Though so far I haven’t
taken it to heart.
Finish things.
Not the ice cream
or the box of chocolates,
but the projects,
the stories,
the work.
Finish things.
Despite the fear
of failure, or the boredom.
Despite the siren call
from the new,
finish things.
Morning blessings
as I count them:
wake
stretch
greet the sun
both smell and taste
of coffee
steaming in my favorite mug,
the one Darrell made,
that fits smooth
in the curve of my hand
sitting and fitting
with Otis
my sweet dog
in our favorite chair
and
writing
a few words
while the day is still new
This is for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads where we are asked to write something keeping the words of Mary Oliver in mind, “It mustn’t be fancy.”
Mary Oliver’s passing leaves me so very sad, yet mindful of little wonders all around.
You aim to alter time and space
through magic in the written word,
with worlds and souls and ages stirred,
then leave the stage without a trace.
So turn the wheel into strife
and be prepared to stretch your ken
beyond the simple minds of men
when inking corpses back to life.
“Stories should be natural as apples, brief as lust, long as a thought.”
-words by Leonard Michaels, photo by Mary Bach
As I drift off to sleep I hear voices
like a radio playing, softly
in another room
just below
the threshold of understanding
In the morning
the voices are gone.
There is no radio
playing anywhere in the house
and so I go
about my day
Each night I listen
but I can never, quite hear
enough
to understand
and I cannot remember my dreams
This is written for the Sunday mini-prompt at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, where we have been asked to think and write about hearing voices.
Here’s a little humor – just so we all don’t take ourselves too seriously during NaPoWriMo:
For those of you who don’t know what NaNoWriMo means (National Novel Writing Month) you don’t need to worry about any of this. Continue happily on with your sane lives. But for any of you out there who have accepted the challenge of writing a novel of 50,000 words in 30 days I have compiled some advice from well known authors to help (and by ‘help’ I mean, ‘not help at all and marginally harm by distracting’) you through your odyssey.
The road to hell is paved with adverbs.
― Stephen King
Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.
― Louis L’Amour
There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.
― W. Somerset Maugham
You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.
― Jack London
This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until its done. It’s that easy, and that hard.
― Neil Gaiman
Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.
― Natalie Goldberg
Nothing’s a better cure for writer’s block than to eat ice cream right out of the carton.
― Don Roff
In writing, you must kill all your darlings.
― William Faulkner
And finally:
Beware of advice—even this.
― Carl Sandburg
So, to those of you making the attempt I wish you all the best!
In Other Words 