Creative Variety

Day Seven – 2020 Creativity Project

Wookie watching Wick

Wookie raptly watching a movie. Edited version.

I have been on the internet since 1991. Creatives are among my favorite people. A baseline normal between creatives, we are all original individuals. Our personalities, gifts, characteristics, styles, spirituality, beliefs, all those, and more make us unusual, and yet we are alike. There is a spark in the room when creatives meet. We chatter, and we immediately find something which we can relate to within one another.

Many of us are introverts, we will find ways to sequester ourselves in privacy. Though we can lay that aside long enough to perform something we believe in. Sometimes, this is almost too hard. What should we write, draw, paint, photograph, what tools use? Is art worthwhile? Is the meaning and connotation of a word correct? Is it perfect, or close enough, no one can see the seams, the erasures? The picture, should it have been edited, or was the original better? Will anyone read, will they care, will someone?

Uncertainty seems to come with the territory, but we can stand loud and proud when we feel we must. Our hearts are open, our minds malleable, our work forever with us. Dreams are waking us to grab tools of record in the dire hours of the night. We study, then find it not enough, and explore more.

When the curtain draws down, we will be begging long enough to get the current work complete. Dame Death can wait…

Maybe I exaggerate, I am a poet who writes stories, essays, and attempts books. I do these Creativity Projects that tax me beyond belief. I believe in making myself work because if I do not commit, I might crawl into a cavern and secret myself away. Figuratively speaking darlings, if I had a cavern, we would have sleepovers on crisp nights.

I did poems today, but I am not satisfied with any of them, then when am I confident of the writing I do? I think it is why I read so much. I can twine my mind in someone else’s creation. Anyway, you are warned.

Down, Upsideways

Touched by the feather
Of a snowy dove named love
My soul reaches up
Toward Heaven way above
Then stretches out and abroad.

I inhale the breeze
Breathing out weighty worry;
Then again process,
Exhaling stores of kindness and joy
Praying health, happiness, prosperity to all.

I hope good fortune
Will find ample opportunity in many lives;
People who shall discover
Grace as comfort always
And fullness of faith as a living fire.

SWAP

Can I be you now?
I know I should not ask,
But you seem self-assured,
Only for today, until
The time day goes undercover
Where we can dream mysteries
We might never encounter if
Our lives did not intersect,
Combine, entwine, meld,
Like no one knows but we
In on the secrets only we two may
Comprehend, understand;
How will our hearts ever beat
Quite the same as prior, after
Sharing who we really are?
Do you realize how precious,
Surpassing grand are the gifts
You within yourself do own?
We might be explorers, ah, home.

Perpetually

Let us live forever
Remembered by generations
Whose opportunity to know
Us is only in the creations
We leave behind in time.
What we share with others
What we release from within,
Those bits and pieces of thought
Captured in any set form
Can transmit over eras
Perhaps helping someone grow
Into a person better suited
To survive whatever may
Become their experience
In living a maximum life.

I hope you found something of worth, I have not felt like I could do this today. The Quits have set in. You know that saying, “You should not be doing this. It is not any good. Give up.” Yeah, my brain has not yet learned, “Never Give Up!” is stronger. Anyway, thank you for visiting. If you wish there is a follow button, or come back when you like.

All the best to you, and keep reaching for your goals, I believe in you. I thank God this marvelous tool brings us together. I hope I did not go over long today. Sometimes, if you knew, I have lots to share.

Wookie watching television, movie. Less edited version.

Social, I Suppose

Decision Point

You like lemon drops
I prefer spicy red hots,
Can we still be friends?
Can our yellows, reds, mingle?
Do sour and hot speak, emote?
Would we need to shove
Our preferences, tastes, down
One another’s throat?
I think given space and time
We can share our love as friends.

Erotica Avec Moi

I want to lay you
Down on freshly laundered pure
White sheets, soft as mink,
Becoming entangled like
Stars in cosmic clouds gleaming
With passion’s light dew,
Sweet escaping sighs released
As we learn precious
Togetherness can delight
Lips and tongues discovered new.

Monday, November 4, 2019

Willful
Abuse
Radicalized

Every person is
Some parent’s treasured baby
Whose birth was an Event;
If blood is spilled, at what cost?
Tears drowning, an ocean flow.

Someone different despised
Loaded missiles in idle conversation
Tearing a visage apart,
No safety on which to depend;
Maybe driven reckless to an end.

Corporate priorities
Accelerating profit margins;
Hours near unending or brief, plenty of pain disregarded,
Limiting accommodations, promotion recommendations,
Eliminating benefits, cutting back, workers fail.

Pointless politicians
Preying on public insecurities
Inciting mobs, another election
A million to furnish the mansion,
People’s needs less meaningful than drapes.

A bevy of youngsters, college denied,
By fiscal lack or instability
Sent, the guns and bullets,
To lands that savor patriot blood
Above that of many others.

Pretty flags draped, we weep,
Coffins we must somehow bear
Some parent’s treasured baby,
Now gone forever, death’s deep sleep,
Departing others, the cycle repeat.

Me, the Dog, and Jesus

The shelter dog experience requires a great deal of patience (at least two I know of, do). Sometimes I look at this beautiful dog with some of the most aggravating quirks I have seen, and I think how I am also a mongrel. I do not fit the average design, but God chose me, just as He did you, to be who exactly we are. He has a purpose for every sort of difficulty I present to Him. Usually, I think He wants me to learn on Him to depend, instead of any faith I might place in me.

I do not run straight to Jesus as often as I should. My dog does not run to me, she creeps, or sometimes she has that sad, sad face that will break me open because, despite her craziness, I love her. She hurts me, I have scars, I had to wear a brace, she runs off where I have to go into strange territory miles away searching for her, and she does not always answer when I call. I am like this with my sweet Jesus too. He died on the cross because of me, that is some incredible injury. How much a disappointment it must be to Him, when He is certain He made it perfectly clear what is expected, and I go my own way, then creep to touch His hand, hoping He will fight my battles. Thankfully, He does not scream at me, as I sometimes do with the dog. He remembers that I am living a broken, sinful life, in a shattered sin-filled world and over and again He has mercy on me. My mercifulness leaves much to be desired with the dog, but we are working on it, and it improves in spurts and starts.

I do not recommend the shelter dog experience, but should you wish an object lesson on who our Father is, try it. As Alex told me, “Get a big dog, it’ll be fun, Mom.”

I do not know how my analogy stands up, and really I just wrote this off the cuff. Jesus knows I try to explain who He is to me, so maybe you will find a life with Him. It is the only life worth living and has a single promise of eternity.

The Wookie is the big dog, the tiny tot is Mom’s dog (mine now), Tribble. We might explore another story another day.

Inspired by a Rolling Stone

I caught myself saying I do not want to go see them live because I want to remember them as last I observed them. Then I thought is it the stars I fear to see or is it that they reflect who I have become?

Do I want to face that I am growing older, that the glory days are past? My idea of myself, it does not connect with the image in the mirror. I am unwilling to give in to infirmity, to recognize any decrepitness, I imagine myself strong enough to face anything for I have overcome so much.

I like to think the days are still outstretched in perpetuity, but I know, I know chronologically that more hours are passed than reach into the future.

This is hard to admit, to accept, that death is any breath away, and my tenure here will cease. However, it also imbues every moment with a priceless preciousness that I cannot escape or deny. If I am to do what I am purposed to do, I must get on about doing it. There is no time to waste in frivolities or procrastination.

Life is a limited engagement. The show does not employ the same cast forever, and the show must go on. I, like everyone, want to do all the good I can, love as much as possible, create more happiness than grief, and leave memories that will be treasured, but I realize I should do those things in the now. Now does not for anyone last indefinitely.

So, maybe I should see the stars as they are and let their talent and charm take my breath away again. Each of us is a universe of life, and we should celebrate the beauty of our existence for God made each of us a Masterpiece, one of a kind, with no duplicate in eternity.

So thank you, as so often, to Sir Mick Jagger for challenging me, inspiring me, and providing food for thought. I am so indebted to you and the many others who have given a soundtrack for my life.

Maybe my small contribution will touch someone who needs to remember we are all here for only a brief while and should expend our time wisely. Blessed be.

Battling the Specter of Nevermore

In recent books, I have read about hemlock, strychnine, and other poisons. I read a variety, this is not about genre, fiction or non-fiction, this to me speaks of destruction.

Our whole lives are immersed in depression, despair, lack of dignity, lack of respect, an absence of tolerance. It is no wonder suicide, and murder rates are soaring, mass killings are rampant.

We as a world, need an infusion of hope, a multiplicity of loving-kindness in every aspect of life. We cannot point at one another and claim others should be the solution. We must be, ourselves, the answer, every one of us. We must carry love within us, and to each person we encounter.

Forgiveness, grace, love, mercy must become our functional vocabulary, as well as our method of conduct.

We never know, by reaching out, by being a friend, we may be lifting ourselves or someone other from the precipice of death. The Lord is Love and He inhabits our acts of kindness and compassion. We are called and sent, let us reach out. May we be the solution for one another.

It is, and has been for some time, a fight against Nevermore.