Started biking - slowly but surely

A few weeks ago my right knee swelled up with a big knot on the lower inside of the knee cap. As it happened I was planning to get my bike out and start ridding for exercise. The knee thing drug on and I went to the doctors and between my two options started an inflammatory medication.  The other option was a cortisone shot which might have brought me swifter relief but since I'm a type two diabetic, my experience with any steroid is that it bumps my blood sugar numbers pretty high for a significant number of days.

But all this (the knee problem) seems past.  At least enough so that I got out by bike and aired up the tires and rode around a little (not to overdo it) and my plan is to ride some most nights after work for a while till I can build up my endurance.

Just so that I'm able to get a poetry connection in here, long time readers may recall that I won my bike a few years back in a contest to write environmental haiku's.

Opening Up~

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
 ~ Anais Nin

It seems to me that Nin's words above,  like so many of her bits of wisdom are in fact powerful maxiums we can all lean on in life. Everyone... but they seem so relevent to the writer's life - a life that often challenges one to risk opening the blossoms that reveal

Do you recall a time when your writing risked blossoming?

Confession Tuesday

Dear Reader: 

It's been almost a week since my non-confession confession and here I am heading to the confessional for a look back.

I confess that the week in view was a largely exasperating one. At work, at home, and at all points between. I think both mentally and physically I've let myself get deflated. I feel like one of those moon walk things kinds bounce on at outdoor events that are filled with air only the party is over and the air released and I'm just a jumble of plastic on the ground.

It seems like almost every night for the past week we've drug in late.  I got home later tonight because I needed to go to the store to replenish the Wells' Mother's cubbard.  I'm home now  and my poor wife has still not returned from work. I don't have room to complain - it's a problem that we have encountered together... still it is getting old.

Last night I confess that I came home, and did not write. I went straight to bed and when my wife came in, we watched The Closer and I  think another show and then I was out like a light. I don't like feeling like this, the wanr slick feeling. Quite frankly I feel like my body, mind and soul are all on auto pilot and I have no control.

~0~

I confess that one of the things that always brightens my day is opening the mail box and finding poetry. Yesterday I received a poetry book that I had pre-ordered a couple months back. I confess that I'm not the most patient person when it comes to waiting for any book... poetry are other. But when they do come, there is a satisfaction that's like a double layer German Chocolate Cake with traditional icing... the coconut and  Carmel stuff.  Of course the Poetry has no calories and won't raise my blood sugar ;)

So yesterday, I was happy when my copy of Amy Leigh Davis' book The Alter Ego of the Universe arrived. I think I carried it to the bedroom with all the excitement of a kid at Christmas, read two poems and fell asleep after texting Amy. Like I said before the energy just wasn't there!

So far, I'm hanging in there better tonight.  I will probably only journal tonight and read a few poems... not creative writing tonight... It's late as it is.

Till next week....

Grasshoppers

The grasshoppers have a routine

twitch and eat     twitch and eat

but we let then—

they invade our browning turf

scavenge-scoop our dying years

but we let them—

tobacco juices rolling off

their little faces

they rub their front legs—

back and forth

back and forth

I expect the friction

will smoke and blaze

anytime now

they are small

but all about ruin

Magpie Tales 77: Poem - Intimacy on the Porch

The intimacy of a front porch

on the summer night

was like no other place. 

The tongue and grove floor

was hushed as that they stood

still beside one another. 

Out in the yard fireflies

brought the starred heavens

to their level— 

all calm except

butterflies in their bellies

as each searched for words 

that can set this night apart

from so many other

date nights.

She searched the porch floor

for the right things to say

his eye traced smooth white legs 

subconsciously until stunned

by their own silence

their eyes meet— 

words no longer matter.

2011 © Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 77

Picture credit: Summer Evening, Edward Hopper, 1947

Bad Poet

Yep, I missed Confession Tuesday. After work I went to a poetry meeting and it was late when I arrived home. I'm later getting in tonight for a different reason. Perhaps special dispensation would be in order since I was out doing poetry things.

Magpie Tales 76: Poem - It just stopped blowing

like dead in the middle

of a gust that was whipping along

the plains and kites dived,

birds were puzzled,

cumulus nimbus stalled. 

The heat that summer day

grew stale—   idle.

Grandpa said that was kind of

the beginning of the end. 

Folks didn’t know what to make of it

still don’t.  The sun just hangs there—

nights don’t much cool off either. 

Grandpa tacked the wind mill blades

on the shed. Said there was no use

for it except ornamentation, and life was

mostly bland these days.

2011© Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 76

Journal Bits - July 21 to August 5, 2011

It's time for some tid-bits from my journal entries of late.  My daily journal comprises a variety of things. Some general journaling on life, quotes that I run across that strike my fancy, a poem that I really like and of course my own writing drafts. Some very rough as I often take them to my laptop at some point to refine them. So here is a sampling of recent entries:

•  July 21, 2011 - "I need to find some "art date" project for this coming week coming up, time to do some inspiring things to boost my creativity."
• July 22, 2011 - "The conversation became a sidebar to the Dr. Phil Show..."
• July 22, 2011 - " t was uncanny how many tall women were there. I do mean tall! It was like a village of Amazon women. Several were quite striking. I'm thinking tall women poem material.
• July 23, 2011 - "Finished a draft of a new narrative poem and did some rewriting. Good day for writing for me. Also got a blog post done.
• July 24, 2011 -  [she] shot the dark sides/ of everything in photographs/drove a locomotive/off an acrylic painting/when she swears in German/dogs follow her heels.//
• July 26, 211 - A woman folds her dreams/into a tri-fold it seems/to bring the closer/to spiritual perfection. 
• July 29, 2011 - The banister reminded me/when my parents mad me/stand back against the flower print in the kitchen/we both stood because/someone else wished it/that way.//
• July 30, 2011 - In my youth/I carried folly/in my pocket/wore a reversible/smirk on my face.//
• August 2, 2011 - Yesterday I received an acceptance from WestWard Quarterly
• August 3, 2011 - Nic Sebastian in a blog post - "Role of the poet: interpret the status quo or subvert it?" Interesting, think about this maybe respond to her post.
• August 5, 2011 - She has used kisses/as currency/telegraph messages/settle scores
• August 5, 2011 - ... another day comes more like/the last- hold up in cubicles/whose walls have had shit/written graffiti sprawled across/niceties are checked at the door/for those who might have had any//

Reoccurring Themes



It is my feeling that Time ripens all things; with Time all things are revealed; Time is the father of truth.  ~   Francois Rabelais

Time tends to be one of the reoccurring themes in my own poetry.  What are some of your reoccurring themes?

Photo credit: DesertUSA.com and Digital West Media, Inc.

Perfect Understanding Vs. Pleasure

Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out... Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure.



A. E. Housman

Confession Tuesday

I just finished working on a project I carried home from the office and before I move a way from my laptop I should get my confession over for the week.  Let's go to the confessional...

Dear Reader:  It has been four blog posts, 3.1 Lbs lost, news of one accept poem for a fall print journal, more heat the suitable for man or beast, and a second week of a bum knee since my last confession.

Two weeks ago I my right knee swelled up almost overnight.  A protrusion like a golf ball developed below the knee cap and left of center (I'm starting to sound more political then medical here) and it looked far worse then it felt. At first anyway.  I confess my week (last week) was far too busy to take time out from work to go to the doctor and I assumed it was simply an inflammation and it would go away. This was greatly annoying to my daughter Shannon.

By Monday morning I could not  put off the doctor visit any longer.  The assessment tended to support a major inflammation ant nothing more serious. Unfortunately it had gone from mildly annoying to quite painful, especially when driving. Day two post Dr. visit it's slightly better but the anti-inflammatory is playing hell with my stomach.

In addition to my dieting, I was planning to get the bike out for some exercise several nights a week, but the knee issue nixed this idea... for the time being. I confess the heat would probably be a little rough for starting a bike ricing program, but I was/am serious about it and I'm pulling for better weather and knee both next week!

I confess that I wanted to lose just a little more weight this week. I would have been happy with about 1.5 more lbs. simply because it would have psychologically broken a number that was a benchmark I would have been so psyched by dropping belows.  I know loss in the range of 2 lbs per week is ideal and going beyond should make me very pleased just the same.

I confess that seeing Congresswoman Gabby Gifford's return to Congress to vote in the debt ceiling increase was the most uplifting thing to come out of Washington D.C. news in longer then I can honestly recall.That woman is quite an inspiration! 

I confess I feel there is little to applaud in the outcome and process used to to reach that outcome in the debt reduction plan that was passed and signed into law.

I confess I'm out of confession!

Best wishes to everyone... see you next week.

Magpie Tales 75 - Poem : Cycles Sirius

All she ever wanted
was to ride
to let her hair down
to be a human streamer
on a world stage
far from her tunnel
childhood 

ride she did
a circus act
big as the night
she was Sirius
brightest of light 

taking the curves
smooth— feral flesh
blinking under a hot blue
sparkler strobe
woman reborn


2011 © Michael A. Wells


Magpie Tales75






Magpie

Couple of poems that caught my attention today...

Christine Klocek-Lim - editor of Autumn Sky Poetry has another steller edition.  Two of the poems that particularly caught my attention I have linked here.  Perhaps you will enjoy them as I did or one or more of the others. Happy reading!

• The Empty Playground by Zeina Hashem Beck
• Arriving Home Late One Night by David Hubbard
  

Sounds Like A Spot for a Writing Weekend

Among a number of other unique spots featured on AOL I found the Point No Point Lighthouse - complete with a lightkeepers residence this site is available for vacation rental at only $215/night + tax.

The Lighthouse dating back to the 1880's is about a hour from Seattle. It provides a bird's eye view of what goes on in Puget Sound and a view of Mount Rainier.

From a Seattle Times Review it sounds like an awesome place for a weekend retreat for writers.

Where are some places you have gotten away to write at and how did the writing end up?  Tell us about your successes or otherwise....                          

At A Loss

Then it rained
my hair wet
streams pulled it
over my forehead
I gushed with thoughts
I could not keep
soon I was up to my ankles
in loss

2011 © Michael A. Wells

Confession Tuesday - Weighty Edition

Dear Reader:

To the confessional...  It's been one week of hot-air in Washington, D.C. since my last confession. <sigh>

A confession that I have tonight is one I'd like to just be a secret.  I started a diet on Sunday and I'd just as soon it not be historically recorded on the Internet, but alas I some notion that as I confess it here it establishes some accountability. With that in mind I will swallow my pride and confess that yes, I am intentionally attempting to lose weight - reduce body mass, take up less space, etc, etc. My first weigh in was on Sunday. I stopped by the Y and weighed in again this afternoon. Result - 3.1 lbs lost.  So what did I do?  I went to lunch with out office to celebrate birthdays this month. We went to Winslow's BBQ.

Now you are no doubt thinking.... hum I'll bet he could put the 3 lbs right back on in a place like that. I was a relatively good boy... I skipped any fries opting instead for the BBQ beans and the Smokey Sandwich I ditched the bun on eating only the meat. My drink... ice tea.  Taking everything into consideration I didn't do bed for the day.  I'll try and remember to weigh in next Tuesday as an additional measure of accountability.

Where has July gone? I confess the summer feels like greased pig slipping through my arms. As we are nearly to August that leaves like two months of baseball left for the regular season. Football will soon be encroaching into it. Oh how I hate that!

In the poetry department I confess that I've been hanging onto drafts a lot longer - tweeking - tinkering - turning them around and standing them on end. I confess I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not. Yes, we can close the book on a poem and send it out in the world too early.  Sometimes I thing we can tinker too much as well. I think time helps just to allow for perspective shifts, changes can be made without wearing the words on the page out. I confess I am not likely to change how I approach this anytime soon.

That's a wrap for this today... have a great week and see you again on Tuesday!

Do no wrong

Writing away - in free write while listening to my playlist. No care given to what comes out - it's choppy and all over the map and that's cool because I will come back to it on another day and mine for gold. For now it's words - phrases and that is  all that matters. I can do no wrong.

Rainy Sunday Morning

Opening the front door this morning I stepped into the heavy smell of rain. The sidewalks still dark gray from the wetness. Sun straining through the moving cloud cover. There is nothing in this picture to suggest  however, the oppressive heat will be moving on.

For a Sunday morning I already feel good about the weekend in terms of
writing. Yesterday I pushed throw a new poem draft and tinkered in rewrite with some other material.  In terms of recent weekends I've felt better in terms of creative mind. I've been able to unencumber it from a lot of recent baggage that has cluttered it.

Constantly Comparing Yourself To Other Artists

Before I delve into this, let me reference a post on The Book of Kells where Kelli Agodon shares a list of How to Feel Miserable as an Artist (Or What Not to Do).  There are 10 entries to this list and two that especially jump out at me are numbers 1 & 8.  I'm thinking I will over the next couple of weeks post a response to all of these but for today. Number 1 it is!

When I was reading the list and saw the very first item I thought, Don't we all? Is there anyone who doesn’t compare yourself to other artists? Do I see any hands? I didn't think so. I think I do it in so many ways.... so and so just won the Best Darned Chapbooks Award this side of the Mississippi Award and what have I won lately. Suzy-Q has 7 poems in No-Tell Motel this month or Sam has poems in three journals in a month.... what have I got **heavy sigh**

The inclination is to use others as a yard stick to decide how you measure up. Right now if I list my top 10 favorite poets and you ask me to write next to their name when I think I might measure up to each of them beside their name I can tell you the answer in each case is going to be the same. Never!

The odds are each of them probably can make a similar list and likely answer it the same. In art especially, I'm pretty sure that we do the yard-stick test with others and it is a failing proposition.

Any one of the ten items on the list is probably not a healthy activity but when we start collecting 3 or four or more of these faults, I'm pretty sure that a frustrated if not miserable artist begins to emerge.

When someone I know has a new book come out I try to make a conscious effort to congratulate them. First of all being supportive of your peers is a good thing. But if we don't look at these achievements of others in a positive light I thing the opposite begins to creep in and take over our psyche. We start to feel short changed and even jealous. I have several friends who have new books that have recently come out or are due out in a matter of weeks. It becomes so easy to allow their successes to place you and an important manuscript project you are working on into a "woe is me mode" and then you start to think about it and you say as rationalization, "ah yes, but I'm not that good and I never will be."

I know if you are a writer you have doubted yourself. And probably by comparison to some other writer. So share your secrets... when you realized that you've slipped on this slippery slope how do you get yourself back on your two feet?

Thoughts on the Fall of Borders

News that Borders is closing down is no surprise to me.  Anyone who follows the bookseller's industry could have suspected it even long before they began shedding stores a while back in order to try and stop the bleeding. The fact that Borders has not had a profitable year since 2006 is probably due to a variety of factors including but not limited to the current economic climate, a business model that was well behind the e-book curve and competitors that were successfully bleeding their profit share. 

If I'm not surprised I can still be sad. My family and I enjoyed occasional trips to Borders - usually to check out their bargain book tables. I've done a reading or two at Borders in Northland. I'm sad too for the some 12,000 employees that will be without a job as a result.

Some people will argue that this is a sign of the demise of traditional books in our culture. For many who like browsing in a bookstore to ordering online this may have a silver lining. It could be that the loss of Borders may leave a small opening for smaller independent neighborhood bookstores.

I don't deny that I have also been a frequent Amazon customer. They are relatively fast in shipping to me.  Barnes & Nobel and Borders generally don't have new poetry releases when I want them.B & N has had a dwindling inventory altogether.  What I did like about Borders is they did have some more specialty type  titles the B & N ever did.

If the price of shares in Amazon.com is any indication of their health, they are doing quite well. I'm sure their decision and marketing of the Kindle has been a part of their success.  I remain more interested in traditional books. For now, they still meet that need.