Bludgeoned spinal pathways
Bypassed sense of self
Broken to a "Master"
A shell and nothing else
Cast adrift and wand'ring
Of soul devoid and numb
"Master" self-styled Savior
Savoring a shell that's dumb
Spinal pathways followed
For finite eternities
Convinced Self did not matter
In the web of puppet strings.
An overheard admission
The breach in trust exposed
The fallacy is shattered
Myth? Fetid. Decomposed.
Whither will the infant?
Fullness comes in time
Credit to the "Master"?
None
Phantom limbs & phantom kisses
Deny the part of us that's gone.
Here, and not, the vacuum teases
Countercurrent Hope and Pain.
Nothing that is past is wasted
Scars are borne with quiet pride.
Steel is hardened by the working
Brittle after no return.
Bittersweet the balance beckons
Embrace the ambiguities
So. I've been at this blog for a little over three months and would like to spend a little time on how it's been going. The first stated goal "make writing a regular part of my day," has not been fully achieved; however, it has become much more frequent and much less terrifying. I attribute this small success to two things.
The first is the chaos. By keeping things unstructured, I've been able to go where my fickle interests take me. Some of anything is better than nothing; and like Mom always said, you've got to try new foods. So, I have fulfilled that absolute criteria allowing me to claim the craft. The Writer writes. Hopefully, in time this will become enough of a habit that I'll be able to tackle my other blog....but I digress.
The second is the venue. An internet blog is a platform which offers unimaginable exposure and feedback. It's like I've applied to and been accepted in the most incredible writer's circle! I've been using Google + as an engine of exploration and have looked up and followed many fine writers, Wordwrights. As I have read their works, I eventually began making comments. Most often offering praise or support.
Sometimes my comments were more like the beginnings of my own humble efforts, the original post being the prompt. The muse often strikes fast and hard. The resulting rush to get it all out and down on 'paper' is a heady feeling, which until now (Yes, I mean RIGHT NOW!) has been but a dim memory.
This is when a most interesting thing started to happen. Some of my comments got + 'd. Some of them got supportive replies. Eventually, I made my own post and linked it to one of the pieces here in this blog. A few more encouraging comments and then....I got circled back by people, by Wordwrights, whose work I admire and who I was following. Imagine the rush. I mean it. Right up there with getting the diploma or the bonus or ANY other recognition!
Whew! Breathe. Got a little catharsis going on here.
Anyway, I haven't scaled Everest. I haven't been published. But I am writing. And people are reading it. Even if most of it is just half....witty, yea, half witty comments on posts. And I'm a member of the best, most inclusive Writer's Circle there is. It's all of us.
Okay. I'm done for now. Thank you. I am truly grateful and will pass it on. ...and I hope you know who you are.
Rick
tearandstrain
mothandflame
Witness to a tragedy
birdandpane
turnsoutthesame
Oblivious to Sanctu'ry
Watcher from the shadow prison
Helpless sees the play unfold
And in the night the damage leaps
from Flame to Moth
to Watcher.
Silent tears of rage and loss.
And yet.
Hope.
(Phoenix)
There is a red which certain maples wear
This time of year in Maine. It speaks in calm
Authoritative tones that banish trans-
ient woes.
When come upon it captivates the heart,
And gives observers pause to contemplate
It's fire juxtaposed with winter's coming frost.
Like the glimpse or scent of love absent
It's bittersweet embrace aches.
with promise.
Can you see me?
Wishing from afar.
Transparent.
In plain sight.
Can you hear me?
Wishing from afar.
Speechless.
When it matters most.
Can you feel me?
Wishing from afar.
Numb with fear.
The dream will fade away.
Terrified it won't.
The blue box in the vortex.
Interstices.
Eternities.
Companions on a Quest.
Words between the written lines.
Implication.
Inference.
The Bard and Audience.
The paper tugboat in the stream.
Abandoned.
Remembered.
Embrace the Ambiguities
Sweet surrender beckons.
A Siren song floats from my lips
Thrice denied the ache arises
The song is swallowed with regret
And to the Shadow I return
Familiar darkness calls.
The depths and I embrace once more
Languid motion through the water
Caressing and caressed again
Alone the journey marches on
Fairy kingdoms on display.
Life in riots on the reef
Diverse spectrum all around
Bold and timid, bright and gray
Web of niches interwoven
Flora, fauna, symbiosis
All arrangements make the scene
Bio-chemo-geologic
And every discipline between
Human history preservation.
From the gloom a tragic treasure
Once afloat on sea or sky
At once eerie and compelling
Tell the tale of your demise
Brief encounter ends.
Tortured I release the rapture
Follow bubbles toward the light
Breaking surface inhalation
Reality intrudes again.
Sweet surrender beckons.
