Seeing with new eyes All the times we almost had Ahold of the precious prize, But our gaze was called astray Fingers slipped over broken edges And sudden walls blocked our way. The question justly arises, Can we grasp new horizons Getting our self-satisfaction With blatant mediocrity Over to the side, out of our lane? Trouble speeds like a missile Targeted to do incalculable damage Causing fatal amounts of pain, But our vision is alive again.
Writing seems the entree today. Not accomplishing much else, and I can live with that circumstance. This poem has a political edge to it, but it is also about the simple actions of continual living.
I hope you will take some time to create something today. Most often, it is the way I keep myself from spontaneously combusting. As a prompt, you might think of the state of the world currently and create something which provides your take on it, either from a personal perspective or more wide-ranging.
Hearts across forever Dreaming of the times being Together were ours; How we never considered Separation would break us. Distant now apart, There is no recapturing – What we held, again, We wonder how the moments Could pass so quickly away. How could we gain one Another, then have it all Stolen from our days? Death a cruel stranger passing Silently into dreams, we made. Against this horrid taking The cries arise at night And with the day bright light, No relief, no rest, no forgetfulness; Only emptiness, dreadful space Where our lives joined in A multitude of beautiful ways. Living now so shallow, constant shadow, Where joy once kept the pain at bay. Nevermore, nevermore, whatever Hope remains, there must be readiness To accept love’s willingness to invade Reanimating the heart, dismissing the shade. A moment, an hour, a day, time ever Continues and life we must living partake Love surrounds us for God never forsakes; We, one another have, to inspire our Ongoing from this present to futures Our constant choices describe, make.
Somehow, sometime, there Is a chance of change, to be, When happy becomes, Taking over history; Love, money, all the little things. The smiles wild blasting Able to overcome all The mosquito troubles, Discounted into oblivion; Until they, undead, rise again. I look, for once, at you, Wondering, could we be real Becoming something more Than beneficial friends? Remembering how I fail, Time and time, always again; I turn myself around, Expecting to walk – because I cannot survive another breaking – Of my oft shattered, tattered, torn heart; But this time, maybe, one time, My dice roll different numbers; The soul of love knows the game, Infinitely well, it gathers and tells. Your hand brushes my shoulder, My leaving, I hesitate, wait, You softly whisper, “Will you stay?” Going no longer seems The needful thing to do I get a hopeful glimpse Of what might happen if I chose to embrace my dreams. Life evolves from complication, To a rising sense of simplicity And living all on my own Becomes a rumor overwritten By secret looks, shared music, laughter, Bathed in acceptance and respect, Growing perhaps into love beyond What mortal life can measure, Something captured on the intake And outflow of every blessed breath.
You did not have to Be the who you have become, But I am happy You are precisely who you Are, and claim yourself to be.
Thank you for visiting, please follow Haphazard Creative, or in your rambling find your way back here again. I hope you have a blissful weekend with plenty of time for creation, both the making of things and enjoying the gifts God so generously shared with us.
As a prompt, pick something dear and create about it. You may choose to share or keep it to yourself. You are the one in charge of how you interact with this reality.
I did something rare overnight. I watched an episode of one of my guilty pleasures. I had not done that since February. Maybe one day I will catch up the show.
Love is NOT For cowards, Nor those who THINK It always fine. LOVE can be Rough & nasty If one EXPECTS of It TOO much. It is a give & take, MEND & MAKE, Sometimes, at the START It is OVER – DONE, Others, in the END, it Turns around, BEGINS.
Love is a pleasure BEYOND understanding, A PAIN which Devastates heart & soul. When we find it We are MOST fortunate, Upon losing love, we DISSOLVE in gusts of emotion. It is forever SOUGHT, Beyond every price, Love cannot be BOUGHT But is FREELY given. Its COST the entrance FEE To the wonder of Heaven, Its LOSS a sorrowful Sword wound, mortally felt. We all ASPIRE to gift in love The BEST of who we can be, are, And share each PRECIOUS hour In making BETTER all the rest.
Sometimes I write in my journal to get the words down, and then all the formatting changes when I bring it to text. Also, I work out words and add clarifications that were missing. For me, typing work has always been another creative phase.
I wonder, is it like that for you? What is your process? If you need a prompt, you could create work that illustrates your process.
I am taking a home day today, without going anywhere. Going out is so exhausting, and I require the nurture of my space. I do find that since I have been in so much isolation, interacting with people is ever more precious and delightful.
I am almost over my tantrum about the Block Editor. Still, I am far from fond of it, but this is mine, and I will keep going.
I include the journal draft, just because! I did so much with this; it seems to me it might be worth you seeing. I usually edit much less. I have often thought of myself as a one-off poet – Times change. I love to play with spacing and line breaks. Type fascinates me.
I think I have been irasciblethis week because I had both the flu and initial Zoster shingles shots last week and have felt, not entirely myself. Exhaustion has wreaked havoc on me, because I am almost always a go, go, do, do, do person as far as energy.
Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative, please follow the site, or come back again. May many blessings find you and may you stay well.
Haphazard Creative 
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