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| Greetings and Salutations to fellow Wordsmiths. I've been having a lot happen to me lately, so not much time spend on the site. Here is a new work I am messing around with.
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| I got exposed to Covid-19 so my whole family had to go into quarantine. I wrote a poem to 'celebrate' that exposure. I feel ridiculous, standing here with a Q-tip swabbing up my nose. I feel demoralized, standing here with a surgical mask over my face. I feel isolated, sitting here not allowed to leave my house. I feel horror, that we can be so manipulated and imprisoned within our fear. But mostly, I feel regret, for the loss of our innocence, taken by the government. |
I've been trying to put into words how I feel in situations being On the Spectrum (autistic).
Also, I painted a new painting that expresses how alone I feel, isolated at times. You can see it in my portfolio. |
| I read a poem of death and thought, "I wonder if I could do that!?" "The lights are flashing, I cannot see The sounds are roaring like the sea My life is flashing before my eyes In the *recap I shiver, I'm in the *Bise The cold North winds wail; take a toll Plunging through and across my soul With the Horsemen here rides Death his bony hands steal my Last breath." Lines: 8 WC: 57 *Recap: noun: a life review *Bise: noun: a dry cold north wind in southeastern France |
Some of my newer poetry: :) |
| The Chinook It begins as usual, softly and without fuss, a slight elevation of temperature, the breaking of ice Chinook arrives bringing with it the faint tang of spring. It is more a taste than a smell, sharper you feel brighter and more energetic for no apparent reason. Late snows melt almost as they soon as they come, daffadils peek through the silken white blanket children giggle as they see the flowers they become soaking wet, hustled into a bath by mom to prevent a chill with Spring coming. |
| I've been doing some emotional exploring, often to my detriment. Appetites within and without I observe myself in the mirror of my soul In those merciless eyes I perceive myself a whithering bulk of morbidity, of gluttony pasty white flesh tumbles and drapes like window dressings of wanton appetite with an obvious insufficiency of self-control. This condition meant little to me, previously, preoccupations greater than corporeal status have directed my thoughts and emotions. Exploration of anger, fear and, pain paramount, needs within needs proliferate and flourish. Expanding my consciousness, maturity and acceptance reveal underlying essential demand for mending. Abuse and loss flavor my past, challenges continue to abound in the infirmity of my soul. I see the requisite direction but also recognize the external manifestation of my inner turmoil. The passage of time allows me to observe these indications of change within and without. Battles waged, all suffer but surcease is at hand. I feel little indignation in my physical self, I recognize the need to placate feelings by cravings. Now is the time, to put aside these disturbing emotions and focus on concrete reality. And I do. Form: freeform lines: 25 WC: 174 |
Sherasi  This is a very deep piece of writing. I loved reading it through. Just keep smiling my dear, smiles are always returned. Soul searching for me always ends up in a spiritual war between self respect and honour. Life goes on, be kind to yourself. |
| The Reason for the Season Once upon a desert night a man and girl did travel pain upon the pale moist face her countenance did make clear a manger was the birthplace but no one said a grumble In that simple place; a King was born It was God's own beloved Son |
| I've been reading "Read & Review" for a couple of hours today. There was an interesting mix of short stories and poetry randomly generated for me. I've been entering "Express it in EIGHT" poetry. Here is one: Every night I seek to sleep I often try by counting sheep warm milk I drink to no avail I read books but still, I fail hots drinks are good, I love my tea but into sleep, I want to flee pasty skin, I look like a hag in the morning, I'll use a bag |
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Recent days, in my part of the country, have been days of intense cold compared to traditional winters. These thoughts of daffodils, of which I have a few in my yard, and hints of the coming thaw, are comforting.
Thanks for sharing this poem with us.