1 first lines...

i started four times...but nothing wishes to grow...

1)  i hear the words but still deny their truth

2)  i hear the words but still deny my worth

3)  for once, i wish the words not pour of me
     just from me

4)  i grasp for something outside of myself

0 threads

frayed edges cascade--
wisps tickling every sense
itching to be pulled
but one small tug I fear
will at last unravel me

0 Should I be disappointed with myself?

April is basically half over and what do I have to show for it?  One measly little poem.  I had every intention to reinstate myself during National Poetry Month with a poem-a-day.  I managed it last year--and then some.  But I am still not quite ready to find my way back to my creative half.  I prefer wallowing apparently. 

I have started reading again.  It has been a long time since I have done that.  Between being too busy, no longer having the summers to read, never really taking a vacation, and lack of motivation to pick up a book (lot easier to pick up the remote--plus I did focus alot over the past couple of years on my writing), I have not really cracked open a book for the simple joy of escaping into another world.  My that is just what I need...a little escape from myself.

I have been thinking about writing.  Every once in awhile I hope on here--a place I have seem to have deserted--wanting to writing, trying to write, or talking about trying and wanting to write.  In thinking back, this break is really not all that unusual.  If I look back over my writings, I can find long gaps in the timeline...years even.  Maybe I've just hit one of those plataus.  Who knows.  But if the past has anything to say, I will find my way back.  The only real question is when.

0 Memories

my heart opens in a breathless sigh
with the first magnolia bloom
memories of you seep through my veins
like the lush floral fragrance wafting through the air
before the smile fully flourishes on my lips
the first petals fall like tears pooling at my feet
sweet memories tainted by loss suffered far too soon
blow away in the wind as the last petal drops

1 dried up?

The end of April fast approaches and I find myself having written only 5 (six if you include this one) posts.  My initial absence was anxiety related; I needed to purge the irrational thoughts that began when I got my first follower and when I began participating in different blogging communities.  Now I find myself at a standstill, uncertain how to get back to where I began.  My state of being now is lost, wordless, depressed, lacking in motivation, uncaring....  I want to find my way back, I'm just not certain I'm ready or that it's possible.  It's not unusual for me to go through spurts of not writing.  I can look back over my years and find large gaps; either I became to busy or lost inspiration or found inspiration in other endeavors.  I think it is something about this particular medium that makes me itch to not let time pass by so unnoticed as I have in the past when using paper and pencil.  I don't know...  Maybe I need to borrow from the logical part of my brain and revamp my blogging into a more structured (prescribed) entity.  I really just don't know.  Is it worth it?  Aside from me, would anyone really even care?  Do I truly care?  Maybe I just need to stop thinking and start writing.

0 nothingness

where did all the words go?
i feel empty--completely void of thought.
will they find me again?
i do miss them--the turmoil they wrung from me
is far better than this nothingness.

0 Quinzaine: Heat

#1
Sparks fly when I hear your voice.
Is it hate that flares
or passion?

#2
Your touch burns across my skin.
Can I survive it?
Can my heart?