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Tuesday, June 05, 2012

Confession Tuesday


Dear Readers:

It’s been another one other one of them… a week.  So here I am before you to offer my week’s confession. To the box….

I confess that this has been an emotional week. My son’s bulldog Hoss was put down. My daughter’s pet rat Mason was put down.  I confess that I don’t like the words put down. The phrase seems quite ugly to me. 

I confess that I went to see Dark Shadows and found it in some respects charming. The music from the 60’s-70’s period was a walk down memory lane that I really enjoyed.

I confess that I’ve grown tired this week of some people that allow their actions to be governed by egos larger then buildings. Adult bullies are no different than young bullies. In fact, there is something really lacking in them, that they reach adult age and have such an inversion of maturity and ego.

I confess that I returned two library books late.  I always want to sneak in and just leave them when they are late which is so silly because I’m still going to pay a fine for them being overdue. I just feel kind of dirty when I’m at that counter handing late books over to the librarian.

I confess that I’ve had several ideas swimming around in my head that want to be poems and that I really need to honor their wish and try to get them down on paper. 

That’s about it for this week…. till next time, enjoy each day ahead!

Saturday, June 02, 2012

For Hoss




If you want to know why a tear is salty—


It‘s because salt is a mineral 
adding weight so tears run down our face
keeping us grounded in times of sorrow.

It’s because salt is a preservative,
a constant reminder what each day
together meant us.

In times of loss, however brave we seem,
the spring within us flows
because it comes from  having known.

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Follow the bouncing ball...

I did...  I followed it to Target tonight.  This is one of two large balls outside one of the entrances of the Target Store. I chose to post the picture because this is a part of exercising my creative muscles.  Let me explain...

I've come to the realization that my creativity has suffered in recent weeks. Hell it's probably been stalled for over a month if truth be known and I decided it was up to me to do something about it. Of course this requires me to chart some kind of proactive plan.

In the car this morning I asked myself what I needed to improve my writing - I mean besides actually taking the time to write.  If my self-evaluation of my past few weeks has been that my poetry has been too little and less then satisfying, then perhaps my problem is like artistic atrophy. I think it is safe to say that I do feel my poetic strengths have been weakened and are feeling pretty light weight. So I decided I needed to start a creative exercise program.

My drive into the city then became a workout. I decided to pay special attention to things I encountered on the drive and think about them not simply what these things were - but how I saw them. The TV tower was not just a tall steel structure but as it poked through the clouds it was a portal into the heavens. So throughout the day, I've tried to be mindful of things around me and my exercise of the cerebral muscles was to see them in a new light.

My initial day of flexing my imagination went well. But like any exercise program the results don't come overnight. I'm going to follow the bouncing ball each day and see where the poetry takes me. Wish me luck!

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

LOOKING AT ONE POET'S PROCESS

How I Create: Q&A with Poet & Writer Samantha Reynolds

Only a year ago, in 2011, Reynolds pledged to write one poem a day to try to “be present” and not miss the fleeting first year of her son’s life. Now she wouldn’t know how to stop even if she wanted to. Bentlily has sparked a movement of people around the world to slow down and savor their lives.  Read Interview here.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Confession Tuesday - What day is it anyway edition?

Dear Reader:

It has been 2 weeks since my last confession. What a week anyway? I confess that my days have seemed like they have all run together for weeks now. Most of the time I'm scratching my head and wondering exactly what day it is.

Three day weekends usually make Tuesday like Monday to the Max. After work I've been busy with a lot of physical lifting and moving at home and this has created a viscous cycle. Tired when I get up -more tired when I get home and so on.

I confess that I am delinquent with library books.  I expect to be pulled over by the Library Police. I picture a female officer with her hair pulled back and thin black wire glasses.  She clears her throat and asks to see my library card. She reminds me I have books overdue and says she will issue me a warning but next time she will be forced to suspend my license.

I confess that my writing has been neglected recently. Less frequency. Out of my routine. It really has been hard amid all these run-together-days to tap into creativity. I know that I have the ability to tackle this problem and no one else. I need to make an effort to create some real defining differences to each day. Give myself a chance to be more observant - maybe get out for a short walk each day and try to stretch my mind to unlock the creativity that has been hold up and missing in my days.

Oh, and note to self... Trash pickup is a day late this week. Thursday - note to self. Trash to curb in two days.  

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Bouncing Thoughts

Just finished mowing the front lawn. Came in with a diet coke - sweating and here I sit at my laptop and realizing it's just past 1PM I suddenly feel a large portion of my weekend  has slipped by with nothing to show for it (except a challenge to the people on the north and south side of us to take their lawn down a notch.

I've read several things this week (mostly on blogs) that have caused me food for thought.  Here are some of the items bouncing off my cerebral walls.

1. The first has nothing to do with blogs or reading...I simply  missed confessing on Confession Tuesday. The fact is my past week has been busy at work and at  home and I really had nothing exciting to say except I was out of energy and time.  Too much going on and it's still out there like a stationary front on the weather man's map. It's just hanging over the city all sultry. But enough of that because this is one super ball I want to find it's way outside my scull.

2. There is a long standing story that my writing poetry is an attempt to find a loophole in mortality.  So when I read in Book of Kells this week about poet Patrick Lane at the Skagit Poetry Festival how after a poet died the wife of the poet had the family and friends of her husband memorize each 5 poems of his. In this way, each of them had five of his poems alive within them and they would be able to share them with others. By doing this she was keeping her husband and his work alive in the world. So I'm thinking this immortality thing for poets can work.... kind of.

 3. Reading an earlier blog post by Martha Salino I marveled at the description of the writing relationship with Heather McHugh during an independent study. Sure, from what I've read of Heather and her work I've been exposed to this was the kind of thing any serious writer would likely be ga-ga over. Still, what this brought to my mind was not specifically anything about Martha and Heather but the value of interaction of writers in general. I've often thought for instance of writers I'd love to even just have an hour lunch with to talk poetry in general. Their writing processes or motivations. Where do they feed their creative hungers? Things they try never to do when they write. I think about who I'd tag for such an occasion - it's all fantasy - but after all, poets are good at dreaming of the far fetched. I always enjoy reading the letters of poets because there often is the more personal and revealing side of the artist that comes through.

I've read several poems online this week that have me thinking about various different topics.  Strife in third world countries, couple of poems about rather mundane items and last but not least, travel. These things have been rolling through my thought process because I like to thing about poems that I read that truly seem to bring fresh approaches to writing. For example, I've thought a lot about in writing collections of themed poems, how do you talk about one or two things for say 35 poems and keep your reader wanting to read the next poem? How do you keep it fresh... moving and different?

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Never to Be Seen


Patches invigorate the ready to wear line

she put to test and no one could be certain—

she ever came out of the blind.



There were rumors, I’m sure

you’ve heard that she never wanted to be

seen after he left her; after all the fuss



over Palm Springs, over the night the moon lapsed

into a deep coma and the best that he could do

was a sad impersonation of a neurotic art whore.



The things he did for a painting or two…

no wonder the poor dear would cloth herself

in camouflage.