So…

I do not get much personal mail, as I expect is true of most everyone in these times. One of the friends I know online, who is a Facebook friend, wrote me a postal letter that persuaded me to return to social media. I am still of the opinion that I may remain less engaged than in the past, but there is the thought that my posts may have some small positive influence driving my presence.

You do realize,
Of course, your words and actions
Have consequences.

*****

Life is strange, it gives,
Furthermore, it takes away;
Nothing ours to stay,
The hours rushing ocean waves –
We, notes, on a tide-swept beach.

*****

No fear, I shall not
Fear, though the darkness over
Shade every hour, day,
I know He is with me here
My Lord, God, who holds me near.

*****

The lightning rockets
Across the deepening dark sky
Sending doubt to fly.

*****

What you cannot know
Will never be clearly told,
Your high castle holds.

*****

Not a rehearsal
Love is the fully played act,
No turning away
Once your hand is dealt, your heart
Is invested, no free flight.

*****

Hiding who we are
Is opportunity for
Misunderstanding.

*****

I take my heart down
From the hidden jar to place
It here where you are,
Will you take it, do you dare?
Hearts are most precious to share.

*****

The sleep mocked me
Taking the sun far away,
Giving night for day.

*****

The chocolate is
Gone, ah dears, how shall we all
Happily go on?

*****

The music danced its
Way into every sad place,
Brushing tears away,
Calling, “Life is now present,
Follow love and be most gay.”

*****

Any art is just
An attempt to clarify
Love’s sweet majesty.

*****

And I can do these on and on, so rather than bore you, I shall stop in my tracks, getting back to the book I am enjoying and allowing you your day. Find yourself some happiness before it slips, sliding away into another day.

Again, the prompt is to write haiku and tanka. I give you enough examples, you should understand what to do. Haiku are counted syllabic poems of three lines consisting of 5 – 7 – 5 syllables. Tanka are five lines with syllable counts of 5 – 7 – 5 – 7 – 7.

I tell you now, each of you is a blessing, a unique precious gift given by the Creator to impact the world in your own individual way. Cherish who you are, for you are a miracle designed for greatness. Your light outshines every star and sun. Love, for love, is who you are.

Plain Speak?

When one employs verse with its vividities, though it speaks with particular clarity, is it plain? Ah, and is the clarity only a surface seeming with oceans beneath?

These tidbits for your appetite…

The tall tired trees trail
Tails of golden gilded leaves
On chilled coffee morns
While wholesome whimsical loves
Share songs sang subtly soft.

*****

No one told the dove
To cry, nor made her fly by,
But mourning brought her.

*****

Leave your wide window
For the world has more to give
Than vision through glass.

*****

Can we just forget
Such necessities as need
Once made us believe?

*****

If I could, I would
Divorce pain, but it remains,
Losing love leaves stains.

*****

Forbid you might see
The lake of sad darkness here;
Scented roses, Spring.

*****

When I am dead/gone
I shall sleep enough to please
Those I now disturb.
Until then, please allow me;
Simple curiosity.

*****

Exile, I outlaw
You use it, when we belong,
But powerless to curtail
You because of we two there
Is no doubt you are stronger.

*****

I cast a carpet,
Lovely woven silken threads,
Because your comfort
Was my complete intention,
Ordure you wiped upon it.

As a prompt, try some haiku or tanka. They are small forms but can say much and invoke beauty or emotion. Also, both are excellent warm-ups for more strenuous writing.

I hope your week has been comfortable and that life has brought you more pleasantry than pain. Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative. If you like, follow the site, or come again as time allows. May blessings find you wherever you venture, and you know the love of God with you.

They Did Not Get The Memo

One of the questions I had today at my appointment was about medications, especially ones that might be contributing to weight gain and uncontrollable appetite. All of them, it turns out, but they did not want to make changes.

They said I should exercise. I said I am already walking 20,000 or more steps on most days. The question then was, how do I do that? I said I read while walking, and I do it inside. They told me, no, no, that is no good you have to be outside. Maybe ride a bike, which I told them is bad on my knees. I have to have shots for my knees because of the pain.

Here is the real deal. I lost 65 pounds walking inside the house and kept it off for almost seven years. I cannot walk outside because I cannot breathe out there.

This evening, I revved it up a few notches by playing a selection of my favorite hits and letting myself go with the music. The real demon in this thing is hunger. The people who help me manage my mind cannot help with my weight, so I must make it happen again. I will, because I know I can.

If you have something hard you are facing, do not let anyone tell you that you must do it their way. If your way works for you, work it. You know yourself, your abilities, better than any expert who is on the outskirts of your life. I believe we are strong. I could explain, but all you need to know is that you are capable. There is nothing that can stand against you when you put your mind and heart into accomplishing something.

Rock on…

Oh, I moved the icons for the social media services off of the front home screen on my phone. I have not opened them on tabs in Chrome since I said I was leaving. Funny how I feel better, and how I seem to have more time. The experiment is going well.

Literary Games

I became a reader and writer simultaneously at age three. I quickly began to employ color and text and illustration together. I found in poetry a heart like unto my own and have written it continuously. I guess my hope to be a publisher was born on my mother’s knees or perhaps in the floorboard of the Buick with the dash lighting shining down on my pages.

The dreams persist.

Reading is my favorite form of entertainment, with my rarely watching television. I usually steer away from series, but I have been drawn into a few lately. The idea is commendable, but the execution leaves much to be desired. I am one who becomes immersed in a book or books. It is most disappointing to be prepared for the continuation of a tale and find that it will be a year before you can learn the rest of the story. Not an easy acceptance for a poet who must complete a whole composition in the space of a page or a bit more.

Sometimes I will circumvent the imposition by waiting until all the volumes are complete to read them, but with current works, that is hardly possible. I lately did this with Tolkien’s masterpieces again. Someday I will open the shrink-wrap and dive into Stephen King’s Dark Tower series, I suppose. I begin to wonder about it because I have had those books over a decade. There is also The Game of Thrones, which I have in series and read two volumes from the library, but have yet to break the shrink-wrap on the collector’s edition.

Bibliophiles can be characters. My family tries to encourage me to dispense with some of my literary collection, and I blatantly refuse. I find my books are comforting, and the possibilities they contain, make me feel life is still an adventure. The missives from other minds are great consolation when the world becomes difficult.

I should think with fifty-four years at the vocation, I would have some idea of how to relate to readers, but I often wonder that others must be so unlike myself. Even so, I continue. I write every day and read a wide variety. I have thought l should make some provision to get out into the world and find some worthy subjects for photographic composition. I tend to be dull and remain close to home, which may not be the worst thing with a worldwide pandemic. My dogs and I are company and family.

The Vine Witch and The Glamourist by Luanne G. Smith have me wishing The Conjurer was not to be released next year. The Library of the Unwritten by A. J. Hackwith is another I am considering following up.

I wonder, those of you who are readers, what do you like? Are you a series person? Writers, have you been at the craft for years, or are you new with beginner mind?

World symmetry
Captured in quaint syllables,
An eagle on wing.

***************

Sheltering in place
The world no more freedom’s space,
Dreams are not contained.

***************

I see you, a smile,
Broad as day, deeper than night,
Come join in delight.

The Occasion of Becoming 57

Appearance

I am the one who is real
Enough you feel me in the room
Even though I keep a distance
Between the breaths that pulse,
Our lives existing here, this time.
My lightness rimmed in shadow
Hard to comprehend, understand,
Left alone, a ringing voice, clear
Crystal, like water reverb, falling,
Tinkling clarion bells announcing
Events to which everyone is welcome.
The sweet aroma on the fresh breeze
Being myself, almost, yet not me
Because the well is deeper, wider,
I know not how to plunge, emerge,
I reach the stars and still soaring
Never come home to be housed,
I walk the spaces, other embracing places
Of times disremembered, unrecorded,
In the echo caverns of my wandering mind.

Release

Love, if I had it
Like a stone, firey, lit, smoky,
Flowing like a fair fountain
Not accounted with foundation
But a wild gift, surging freedom
Sprightly on a brisk bracing breeze
Never to be captured, kept,
A mystery, calling always
For my energy, all of me
To run unhampered
Over miles with
Reckless
Speed.

Settle

Should be old enough for calm
Sedate, quiet, unassuming,
Ah, you read me wrong
The race still calls me
I should tarry, but
My muscles ache
To find more
Freedom
And so I am
Now off apace
Quick to find a path
Away into the distance
Where I may surely climb
To heights so far unconquered
Making them finally mine to own.

Gratitude

It is with a full heart
I come upon this day
Which so often I came
Near missing, slipping
Into the deep silence
That does not ever allow
Voices to relay their thanks.
Another year, and what there
Is to show for the effort
Of survival and the witness
Left of growth, I show,
Many a word, verse, rhyme
And a deed or two of merit,
But most dear friends
The evidence that I remain
Surviving and pleased
I made another revolution
Fruition of enchanted
Love blessed days.

I guess I will relieve you of the burden of reading further my celebrations, incantations, prayers of being alive at this fine juncture in my personal evolution. Forgive me, for birthdays come but once a year, and God has amply blessed me that I am still here. It is a certifiable miracle, and that is why I cheer.