Day: Jul 20, 2014

In the deep waters I must trust

 

When seven years come round again
My self is liquified,
My skin becomes a holding shell.
My old self has died.

As I dissolve I feel great fear
And yet I trust my soul.
So in the sea I lose my form,
And with the waves I roll.

I am at one with all the world,
And yet I am no thing.
My inner waters rise and fall
What will the high tide bring?

After my drowning I shall rise
And I shall be renewed.
I must submit to this strange Life
With which I am imbued.

I am not mistress of myself,
I am this moment’s flower.
In the deep waters I must trust
To take me to the shore.

O hang my arms with grasses green
And dissolve me in dark sea.
Thus when the time comes for rebirth
Regenerated I shall be.

Full of wooden blunders

He stifled all her connections.

He is full of wooden blunders.
What do you mean I’m always fate..I’m just your date?
He took me for a bride alright.
She said she was very experienced but that was just with cooking the books.Food,no!
This year it’s either a turkey or a Christmas pee.Start saving now.
Speak now or forever hold my teeth.
Cheat now or forever tin corned beef..
She rifled through his affections.
What is an anti-verb?
Does everything in life get lost except my arthritis?
Her disorder was compulsive order.. strange how good can be overdone.Total order only occurs when we are all dead and buried.. until they sell the house and some nutter moves in…so don’t kill your family just to make cleaning easier.I mean,what’s it all about?
In the end,love is all we need along with a little hate.And a job.And a few friends,some writing paper and a cat or two
He is a barely graced liar on a good day.
All that twitters ought not to have been told…
Do you like cooking? So you eat books then!
What a nice disguise.. I’ve been unfaithful to my husband with my husband.Is that a first?
It’s not unusual  for me to cry.. and it’s a way of cleaning my eyes

Taking the slow road ~ tarrying not typing(#mywritingprocess)

This is a most interesting post which will also link you to some writers that Tish knows and their writing as well.I a;ways love knowing how other people do things whether it’s writing or painting or cooking or just being alive and conscious

Tish Farrell's avatarTish Farrell

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On the road at #mywritingprocess with thanks to Tiny attinylessonsblog.com

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As others on this writerly blog tour have said, some writers are the bees’ knees at doing anything but write. I would be one of them. When the time comes to sit down at the desk there is the sudden compulsion to go somewhere else – anywhere else. This morning I left the computer to scrub the grout between the bathroom tiles. (So absorbing). Later I mooned over pots of recently sown runner beans, and what? Waited for them to grow? Of course. No writing skills needed in Beanstalk Land, only nifty footwork to elude man-eating giants. (Hm. And I could pick up a golden harp while I was there; learn to play, might inspire me to…) You get the picture.

So what is this doing something else all about? OCDD – obsessive compulsive displacement disorder? Why do…

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Flying

 

I know that’s how death will come,
Suddenly flying into another orbit
when  a photographing flowers.
It’s not a gentle transition.
No-one will know where you’ve gone.
One step wrong and you’re.
off the high wire
And plunging into the no safety net.
Flying for a while;
Jumping into hyperspace,spinning electrons
Startle your grey eyes.
Transiting the new black sun
You’re on a double gold helix,
Spider on your web,
Knitting furiously
Into the future heaven on gossamer wings.
Butterfly ,goodbye,I’m off to see the stars.
And the black holes.No one will come with me.
I’m shaking off,evaporating into mist.
I’m a flying saucer on a circus mission.
I can’t say no to a new invitation.
Make it fast and break with tradition.
Time is passing smoothly till that break
In the music,I’ve been transmuted into a different key
someone else will play me on their violin
I’m a tune,
I’m a thought,
I’m a whisper in your vision.
Goodbye,darling.I’m under orders
Ready to leave for my performance
On the electric carpet.
Death dancing to a tune on a violoncello,
Arpeggionne sonata
I’m playing your words upside down
In a new foreign translation,
Accompanied by solo artists,ice cracking
I’m going in.It’s too sudden.
I’m flying.
Spinning faster to amuse the clowns,
too many ups and no downs.
I’m going right out of orbit
I’ve broken the pull of gravity,
And fly with pure equanimity
Into my future life,
I’m off at some moment,
An instant ,a crack,a loud smack.
That was me passing,