Time to Write

Time to write

The clock begins to tick,

So to speak,

My watch is digital and doesn’t show seconds.

It does show that I walked over 12,000 steps today

And translates that to miles

And calories burned,

None of which I believe are totally accurate.

I hope the number of steps is correct

And ignore the rest.

It’s like white noise.

I know it’s there

And I don’t care.

I take a deep breath

And try not to stress

About a few major projects

I need to focus on

Better.

About the novel I am going to write

In 30 days,

Beginning tomorrow.

About the fact that I don’t have a plot

Or characters

Or setting,

Or storyboard.

All I have is my laptop

And an internal commitment

To try this.

It’s almost time to write,

So i should get some sleep.

Tomorrow it begins,

A journey into the unknown

One word at a time.

Time to create

Time to write

Time to achieve

A goal.

It’s just one month of writing,

In a year of writing.

All that’s different

Is the focus

And format

And purpose.

It’s time.

Falling off teh wagon

I fell off the writing wagon.

I was addicted

to writing

every day.

It was my solace,

my poison,

my passion,

my obsession.

But sometimes life happens

and gets in the way

of the perfect plan.

Scatters the pattern to the wind.

And maybe that can be a good thing.

Falling may sound negative

But so does forced compliance

with a random goal.

So I fell,

Jumped,

Stumbled,

Flew

off the writing wagon.

And now I am back

to try it again.

Life happens.

Starter Dough

I need a writing prompt.

A big fat juicy,

wrap my brain around,

sink my teeth into

subject to write about.

A starter,

a teaser,

a thought

a word

a nearby conversation.

Something,

anything,

to get me started.

I need a subject or story,

not a reason.

Reason to write.

What’s that?

I breathe,

I think,

I write.

Got to get the thoughts out of my head

so it doesn’t explode.

The problem is usually

where to begin.

I need some starter dough.

Angry Words

Work in progress but I couldn't hold it in any longer.

Angry words.

So much hurt

in the world.

So much pain

so much anger

invading homes

schools

businesses,

governments,

places of worship,

everywhere we go,

everywhere we look,

Hurt permeates our thoughts,

drowns out rationality,

punches through our defenses.

We let loose with angry words.

Yes, many of us are angry

and have stayed silent for too long.

The pot boiled

and boiled

and we waited

and waited

for it to cool.

But it grew hotter

and hotter,

a volcano of hurt

and now it is overflowing

with red hot flames

and the ashes of our stories

are raining down

on anyone who is looking.

Sad stories

Angry words.

Rather than sinking in

years of hurt and pain,

We are beating our way to the top

and crawling, walking, running, jumping,

flying,

Angry words

can enable us

to soar.

Me, too

#MeToo. 

Matthew, Mark, Luke, John,

Abraham, Isaac, Jacob,

Andy, Anthony, Bob, Bill, Dan, Ed,

Name a boy’s name, any name,

and chances are

that a boy or man with that name,

Has purposely or accidentally

sexually

demeaned,

harassed,

or assaulted a female.

George, Johnny, Richard, Tim, Senior, Junior,

Wealthy, poor, middle class.

Son,

husband

uncle, dad, grandfather,

friend.

Christian, Catholic, Jewish, Protestant, Muslim,

Practicing, non-practicing,

agnostic, atheist.

Literate, non-literate.

Could be any man,

Hopefully not every man.

Me, too.

Why me?

Could happen to you.

Adulthood

Written on Sunday 10/15/17, after overhearing a college student make a comment to her friend who graduated last year and is working in Nashville. 

The adult world seems so dull.

Not really.

It can be fascinating

when you’re not being overwhelmed by so-called responsibilities.

There’s the head above water phase,

the expected of me phase,

working for a living,

Providing for others,

Losing track of

the reasons why life is meant

to be lived.

And there is the fun phase later in life,

Playing catch up.

It’s an interesting place

Trying to catch up on all the living

that didn’t get done

while consumed by fulfilling needs,

being responsible,

living the dream,

then missing having a dream

doing for the good of all,

of everyone,

except me.

It wasn’t intentional,

it just happened.

Intense then

and intense now.

It is fun and scary

this phase of living for me.

I care about others close to me,

but am working on being more selfish

than selfless,

daring to dream

daring to chase my dreams.

Daring.

Running

Flying

Chasing dreams

and whether or not I catch them is irrelevant.

It’s the journey,

daring to make the journey,

that matters.

The world isn’t dull

for me

any more.

Love and Fear

Love and fear

Love and fear

stroll hand in hand

down the street.

“Look,” says love,

“we can do this.”

“For now,” says fear,

“for now,

until we can’t.”

Seasonal Love Song

I wrote this one quickly and haven't edited it yet. I think I'll let it sit for a day or two and then come back to it.

Seasonal Love song

I love summer

Blue skies

White fluffy clouds

Heat,

Long days,

Warm nights.

Continuity.

I love fall

Maybe the most.

Cool overnight and into the morning

The way the air feels on my face

Gray clouds

Rain

Walking through fallen leaves

Nature changing

Slowly enough

That I can see the transition

From bright greens, red, yellows, purples, pinks, and more

To copper, brown, and gray.

And the change feels right.

I love winter

Snow, ice,

Wearing hat, gloves, and a warm jacket

Walking, running

Seeing my breath puff

Feeling the cold on my nose

My ears

And tingle my throat as I breathe.

Starry nights,

Cold mornings.

I love spring

Another season of change

Going from cold to warm

Death to life

Days get longer

Nights get shorter

Rain and wind

Birth and growth

Colors begin to appear

Almost overnight

A new surprise nearly every day.

Wonder.

Hope.

And the journey continues

Towards summer.

No, I won't argue with you

Arguing is not fun.

It is not a hobby

It is not something I like to do

It is not something I try to do.

I am a coward when it comes to fighting.

I try to walk away,

Avoid,

Ignore,

Tune out,

Be teflon coated,

Let it go.

But I can only handle my button being pushed

so many times.

Even patience has a limit.

So cute

Inspired by a video of Keith Urban and Chris Janson. Written on 10/10/17, but it didn't post.

So cute.

A couple of grown men

Playing electric guitars

and singing a bluegrass song.

Sweet harmony.

Sweet music..

Need some sweet

in our lives.

These days.

Every day.

Lost and Found

Inspired by a story in the news today.

Multiple families

With multiple children

Living in one house.

Does that explain

how a mother

could leave her three-year old

behind,

Go home,

Watch a movie,

Fall asleep,

And not notice until the next morning

that her son

wasn’t in his bed

or in the house.

Is that bad parenting?
Is that a red flag that something is wrong?

With the mom?

With the other adults in the house?

With the living arrangements?

The question gets raised,

Is this person fit to be a parent?

Many of us have grown children

and still aren’t sure we did it right.

We were sometimes late,

Sometimes short tempered,

Sometimes wrong,

Sometimes not as present as we should have been.

But at the end of the day,

the last thing we did

was tuck in a child,

Say good night,

And

Stand at the bedroom door

And marvel

at the beauty

and tranquility,

Mesmerized

by the sight

Of a son or daughter,

And marveling that

this child

was the most incredible thing

we ever created.

Physically leaving a child behind

Is sad.

Ignoring and not nurturing a child

Is sad.

Not remembering to say good night

to a three year old child

Is sad.

How

Do

Things

Like

This

Happen

Without

Someone

Noticing

Warning

Signs?

Lost in a maze,

Found by a stranger.

All it takes is

one wrong turn,

To change a life

forever.