I have been contemplating letting the large traps of social media go. There is much about those sites I find annoying. The commercialization, the fiction that they are social, and the fact there is so little of my friends’ original content I see when I visit, confound me.
Here, I can write without much worry of plagiarism. I can always post my links there. Another thing is that it is an election year, and the politicization of the whole social media universe is worrisome.
I have not posted here in some time. Most of what I have written has gone on social media; that is shameful of me. Will I do better? I should hope so. Seeing the wide open field of white, awaiting my words, almost convinces me I am at home.
A writer, should to earn the title, write. I would be well served to remember this fact.
What of you, are you allowing your creativity to shape your days, or some few spare moments, at least?
To what conviction Do I owe fascination? Grackles the breeze own.
Gratitude List I am thankful: 1. No ads chase me here. 2. Wearing shorts in April (all Winter, in fact). 3. Air-conditioning. 4. I have the Explorer. 5. It is Friday.
Sometimes you must lose To learn to win graciously. Sometimes your heart breaks, To make room for love again. Suffering can teach you How to live more freely. Disappointment gives a chance For an increased appreciation of joy. When you hit the bottom Your energy renews for the climb. When you are left empty, alone, You discover your faithful friends. When everything is gone, nothing left, You reach for God and find Him there. If your happiness disappears, with delight, Jesus can restore your pleasure, full-measure. If you need more than you are able God can provide fulfillment plentifully. Nothing is over unless you quit Winners like you, keep going, getting up.
How is one exact, But Also outside, in doubt? The mind is never A closed system, It knows those things, But It allows room for fault. Variables inject deviation From what seems inevitable, This present; what we, as humans Know Here is subject to unmaking. Change is a complete Norm, though norms, might Be terms to use most Sparingly, Because difference is Encountered in everything. Each creation of God – Is fashioned unique; All We see, know, are, have, Is individual, ours here To experience within The sampling being We Are and constant construct. When we awake, rise, We are like the day, beginning Anew, potential Envelopes Us in endless possibility, Loved, creative, free. Nothing is beyond our Capacity to learn, But Scattered uncertainty Grows wild as weeds in Gardens of delighted insight A misstep, an accident, Suddenly, We are gone – All we gathered, amassed, Lost as if, We never even happened.
Writing is the thing that teaches us to understand the experience we cannot command or comprehend. Living is a riot, constant impressions, wild digressions, unbanished obsessions, mythic approximations, and passionate exhibitions.
Love is real, no poetic fairytale; it sometimes bites with destructive force. There are other times it breathes life back into a being near become a cold, bloodless corpse. Heedless, love carries headless need into ages where hearts aflame assuage the blame for falling again.
I. When what you most want Remains beyond ability You become adept Using CREATIVITY To fulfill some hopes and dreams.
II. I am not ideal But being real is enough For those loving me.
III. I have discovered The wild child passionate self Does exist still.
IV. I could sing you blue, Golden, or bright rainbow hues; I would disappear In the arrangement of notes, Unrecognized within you.
V. Love plays, tackling us, In fields where flowers obey Injunctions to fade; We are colors resisting What makes delight history.
Prompt: Create something showing how writing or art rescue from the forgetfulness of greedy insanity.
Thankfulness: No television to distract. Productiveness. Moleskine. Love. Creativity.
I am glad you found Chronicles, but my current site is Haphazard Creative. In the sidebar, there are three methods to follow the site. Utilize one of those, or come back when your life allows. Any comments, likes, shares, suggestions, or thoughts are welcome. When you interact with creation, you impact lives.
You cried your words, right, Into the heart of my life, soul, Answering was I Bound close as yourself to you I sang beauty in a voice I borrowed – starlight; The wind untamed took captive Every small moment I did not hide in pockets Protected from your unknown. Across many years I chased every pleasure found In other places, But each was lacking something Proven in your words to me. My nebulous thoughts Converge, enfold your body In a field tender As the minute sensation Of love, long-deferred, come due. Myself, my sight, is Frequent as light traveling Across space and time To portray your perfect poise Provided contrasting darkness. I have now become More than distant yesterdays; Music you wrote, soft, Upon the flesh, heart, dancing Beneath your strong, gentle hands.
The pages I do with fountain pens are a bit more difficult. I keep wondering why I am trying so hard to get good at using them. They are at best finicky.
Chronicles 