Breaking New

My sweet love, yes love,
We know it is forever,
If ever it be.

***

I thought you the best
But I had not seen the rest,
Still, you pass the test.

***

The glories of rhyme
I chase them all, every time,
Baby, hard to find.

***

You wonder about
Who I think I am, really,
Think it, being me.

***

There is need for sleep
There is creativity,
Sleep after I die.

***

Love is, I believe,
But love escapes my clutches;
It must remain free.

***

Sometimes I wonder
Was I born a poet, or
Did I catch thunder?

***

Time is a changing
I have no desire to spring
On forward. Why Ben?

***

Drinking water, man,
So tastefully plain and bland,
Coffee, turbo stand.

***

Not sure about this
But it is happening, so
Buckled for the ride.

***

Sometimes you cannot
See the truth of someone else,
They hide reality.

***

I have been experiencing a drought in the country of inspiration. It let go of a deluge after midnight. I was using the tablet. Sometimes it is a very wordy device. The only drawback is that I do not type on on-screen keyboards well.

When I got up, the tablet was completely dead. I never had that happen before. It has restored with charging.

I have continued this binge of writing and will doubtless share more of it. The remainder is in my journal.

Prompt: Try writing haiku, counted syllable poetry, counts: 5-7-5. These are very good warm-ups to other types of writing. It is a very old form and versatile.

Brief Perspectives – Blunt

My heart full afire
Aching with such great desire,
But hidden remains.

***

Adrift in oceans
Feelings of such depth complete,
Catching undertow.

***

Losing what matters,
Living becomes rigorous,
I must rescue me.

***

Comfortable safety
Challenging freedom gone wild,
Wolves nipping at heels.

***

Who stole the deep sleep?
It could not be a cheap creep,
No, a dream-like you!

***

When the darkness falls
It engulfs unseen places,
Who we may still be.

***

Swift the beating heart
Imagining what could be
Between written lines.

***

A broken needle,
Pine, collected in a shoe,
Quick must be removed.

***

Whoever we are
Often little changes much,
Except with God’s touch.

***

Isolation is
A boon when epidemics
Are loose in nations.

***

I have not known what to write today. It seems like nothing wants to rise up from the primordial soup of my brain. Therefore I turn to haiku, that stable medium that I can concoct out of nowhere.

Reading Harlot’s Ghost has brought me to reading some of the periodicals because the book is too heavy to comfortably walk with in my right hand. Reading Granta, Science, NYT, and National Review on the tablet. It is nice to read the current articles.

Working hard to disable ads on the tablet. Engaged developer mode, but having some problems still.

It was warm enough for short sleeves, even outside, which was a comfortable change.

I hope you have an excellent evening and find enjoyment it whatever you undertake.

Oddly Enough

Failure is sometimes
The reason for one’s success
Because giving up
Rarely appeals and we find
We try a little harder
Each time things do not
Go our way, we plan to do
Something different
Make it work another day,
And should it not, tomorrow
Offers a chance, too.
Failure is experience
Dressed in deep disguise,
We keep experimenting
Until our dreams work out right.

Story Start – She Is

She did not like to say life was hard, because she recognized everyone had challenges, problems, struggles. Adding her bit to the misery did not seem right. She ate her consternation, her pain, along with what she collected from others. She tried to sample them only in privacy.

She found herself continuously resorting to prayer as she knew no other way to deal with such a multitude of troubles.

Sitting alone in this blindingly white room on perfectly cornered snowy linen in a gown that was allowing the air to nip at her back and behind, she felt more vulnerable than she liked. Her mind would drift into fear, and she would call it back like a hyperactive unleashed dog. Sometimes it obeyed, and she could bring it to heel, sometimes not.

The battle she faced was not unlike others, where her life was invaded. The trick was always finding a way to continue, overcome, survive. She snatched up her smile, painted it in permanent pigments, trusted her prayers, were continually heard, and chose joy over doubt. She might be weak, her weapons dull, but love was strong and capable. Even something life-threatening could not keep her down.

Seraphina would be okay, whatever befell, she determined to go bravely with a pleasant countenance and a spirit yielded to God.

The Journal Habit

If you are dealing with doubt, fear, worry, loss of sleep, any sort of stress, unresolved feelings, anxiety, or mental disturbance, I recommend journal writing. When we journal, it is a form of personal therapy as well as creative expression. It can be highly effective and most inexpensive. There is no need for referrals and insurance approval.

When we work in journals, there are no rules. We bring whatever manifests in our attention to the page. It is beneficial if there is excessive turmoil in life to do a brain dump where all the negativity is lanced and released. A twenty-minute session of free writing with the option to go longer is often helpful.

Beyond the initial purge, a journal can be a proving ground for ideas and other types of creative expression. A journal is simple; we bring who we are to it. We may choose to share or make it a very private space. We use journals to cover seasons of our lives like school, college, jobs, relocating, love affairs, marriage, pregnancy, a new baby, journeys, and everything else. We can claim journals for any time, occasion, event, place, or emotion.

When we read old journals, we progressions and can congratulate ourselves on how we evolved and what we achieved. We find we have many victories. A journal is there as needed. It does not have to capture writing every day, though it can as required.

Journals are like friends who take your thoughts and allow you to explore and reflect on them without judgment, solutions, or criticism. We are allowed space to develop our own best conclusions. This is the beauty of a journal. It can be anything we need and morph into something else as required. We give it value as we choose to use it, and it becomes a reflection of ourselves.

I recommend everyone journal as they will.

This was handwritten in my journal. I encouraged someone with sleep issues to journal and see if it helped. Journal writing is one of the ways I care for myself, I have done it since childhood with long skips at times. I see the website and my previous blog as extensions of my journal, where I choose to share. Creativity and living more comfortably in the world with love are my hopes for my readers.