Tag Archives: perception

In Earnest

The quiet of dawn,

Was a wonderful spell.

I cherish the moment,

But I’ve something to tell.

 

Ginger, my friend, said,

I think there is more.

The sun’s in the sky,

And we’re keeping score.

 

It happens in earnest,

The day will begin.

The peace of the morning,

Is gone on a whim.

 

There’s breakfast and dressing,

The others to awake.

I hate to admit it,

It’s not a mistake.

 

To pay for this life,

We cherish each day.

It comes with a cost,

There’s no other way.

 

We must get to work,

With crowds all around.

Fighting with traffic,

Oh, what a sound!

 

There’s huffing and puffing,

And scurrying about.

It happens each day,

I leave you no doubt.

 

Exhaustion sets in,

As you dream for an end.

Counting the days,

Till you can amend.

 

Fondly remember,

The peace that you had.

And know in your heart,

The rest isn’t bad.

 

 

I’m Feeling Wonderful

I’m feeling wonderful,

And I don’t know why!

I’m on top of the world,

And there’s rain in the sky!

 

The sun shines around me,

Tho’ the clouds up above.

There’s a smile on my face,

And I’m thinking thereof.

 

I don’t understand,

The happiness I feel.

I frankly don’t care,

I hope that it’s real.

 

The feelings I feel,

Are only for me.

Others may have them,

Just now let me be.

 

This day like the others,

When I’m feeling this good,

I’ll treasure the memory,

And do what I should.

 

I’m feeling wonderful!

And I don’t know why.

I’m on top of the world,

I tell you no lie!

 

 

I Did It!

I did it,

I killed him

I did wilfully commit homicide

I did with malice aforethought take the life of another and end it

I feel no remorse, no compassion.  I feel sated.

The long winter is over and now life can begin anew

He is dead

For a short time, I felt loved as a woman should be loved

And I returned the feelings tenfold.

When you love so deeply you can be hurt just as deeply.

I was lied to.  I was betrayed.

The scars run deep.

Perhaps too deep.

I did not feel his life ooze from between my hands as it left his body.

I did not feel his warm blood lessen the chill in the air

As it slowly covered the ground beneath him.

I did not mark him as he left his mark on me.

But he is dead and I am alive

I will continue to live.  He will not.

He will enrich the soil with his decaying bones

And life will blossom from his effluents.

I am alive.

He no longer holds sway over me.

It is over.

I killed him in my mind.

The Cabal

The dishwasher whispered,

To the toaster one day.

There’s crumbs in my workings,

In an irritating way!

 

The toaster responded,

With a mouth full of bread.

The faults not my own,

It’s the humans I said!

 

The kettle then screamed,

My ass it’s a glow!

Stop bickering this minute,

My lid’s gonna blow!

 

The oven just smiled,

A long gentle burn.

He knew what was coming,

He’d just wait his turn.

 

Then a cold laden breeze,

Filled the room with despair.

With the fridge door ajar,

They knew who was there.

 

“Breakfast is ready”!

Came the bone chilling call.

And the hoards then descended,

On the appliances’ cabal.

 

 

Slipping Away…

 

It’s dark. Everything is dark. All your senses are tentatively reaching out only to touch darkness. Slowly, oh so slowly your eyes creep open, just a touch. Your head moves of its own volition towards the clock. Your eyes start to focus. 2, 1, 7. It’s 2:17 in the bloody morning! Your eyes burst open and your head practically levitates off the pillow. Damn! You have another three hours to sleep. Sleep. If only it was that easy. You’ve only been unconscious for . . .  three hours. Six solid hours of sleep is good, been working for you for years. It’s when it is interrupted by . . . whatever, that it becomes a problem. And then it happens.

Your eyes close in frustration, you become aware of something unusual, something enticing. You move your eyes back-and-forth behind your lids trying to find that little spark that you just saw briefly in the recesses of your mind.  You start to sigh, your frustration growing when that spark maturates, ripens.  Behind your closed eyes that intoxication begins to take form, begins to make sense. Understanding forces your eyes open wide. This is good. This is very good. Your mind continues to weave and coalesce. Images force themselves to the front of your mind, they become sharp and clear.  YES!

You are a writer and this is proof! This is going to turn the world on fire! Damn this is good! You spend the next several hours organizing, deleting, extrapolating your brilliant idea. When you’re finally satisfied, you have a brief moment of panic: you should probably write this down. You were itching to get up and put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and record this for posterity. Because that is what’s going to happen. This is going to be extolled from the highest towers of publishing. Damn it’s good.

You look over at the clock feeling drained but exhilarated. 2, 4, 5.  Wait! What? It’s only been a few minutes! Your mind is spinning  and then the unthinkable happens. You are overcome with fatigue. Your eyes slowly begin to close. You struggle to keep them open and then convince yourself that your brilliance is far too bright to be forgotten. You will remember. The gentle fingers of sleep massage your temples and pull you deeper, deeper. You sleep.

And like water seeping through your fingertips. You cannot hold back the tide and you forget. When you finally awaken you remember the brilliance, you remember the incredible feeling of satisfaction and vindication but you forget the words. You desperately try to rewind your mind; you try to catch even a glimpse of that intoxication and you can’t. It’s gone. It fades like tendrils of fog and is whispered away on the wind to be remembered no more.

Welcome to my world.

!Rage!

When I was a child, I had a temper. Think volcanic eruption level temper. I once broke my bedroom window from outside without touching the glass. I had skills. And it was just using my fist on the casing. Yep, I had a temper. What do you expect? I was a flaming redhead and there were expectations. My older brother is also a redhead. As my mother was a brunette and my father had dark brown hair, my brother’s parentage was actually questioned. What was even funnier was that the local fire hall had a redheaded fire captain. When I came along seven years later it was almost vindicated. My mother’s background is Northern Ireland and Scotland.

I was a passionate child, empathetic and volatile. As I grew older, I learn to temper my passion and my temper. One day as a young adult at university I was in the throes of a raging temper tantrum, when I happened to see my face in a mirror. To this day I remember that look. I was not impressed. I worked hard to harness and deflate that temper. I was tired of being a stereotype. And I succeeded. But I wonder if it was the right thing.

There was an episode on the original Star Trek called The Enemy Within.  It is about a transporter accident that splits Captain James T Kirk into two versions of himself: one is malevolent and the other is benevolent.  Aggressive and passive. What eventually transpires is that Kirk realizes that the two parts of him are what make him whole. He needs both. And I am starting to believe that rage is like that.

Properly harnessed rage can be used assertively. I no longer blow my stack so to speak. It is more insidious than that. Think of molten lava oozing beneath the surface instead of spewing forcefully from the top of a volcano. Now you don’t have to worry about me screaming, be afraid when I start to whisper.

I have used my harnessed rage when dealing with several major corporations, including government agencies, and I have been victorious. The fact that I was right might’ve been incidental. Hopefully I will never win a battle when I am wrong. I will not step down from conflict when I believe right and wrong is an issue but I will never actively seek it out. I don’t actually enjoy confrontation. But I’m still a redhead at heart . . . so beware . . .

To Be There and Back

A short time ago I read a post by a friend about Homeostasis. Now don’t cringe it is a real thing. It happens all around us all the time, we just tend to ignore it. Frank over at Beach Walk Reflections (beachwalkreflections.wordpress.com) has a wonderful blog that you should check out. Homeostasis is about finding balance.

For the most part we take the idea of balance for granted. We walk, we drive, we run. But when we feel the least bit dizzy or off-balance, we realize how bad it can all become. Think of that on a global scale. Our world is off-balance, misaligned. We have drought in areas and yet a few hours away they’re drowning in flood waters. In some countries record number of people are dying from hunger and other countries there is so much food they are throwing it out. How is that balanced?

As this world evolved there were checks and balances. Predators and prey. At one time it was a finely tuned system. Overtime some species were naturally removed and new ones developed.  And, then we popped up. Talk about throwing a wrench into the works.  In our hubris we decided to give evolution a hand. It was the wrong hand. And what a mess we created. There is a story that I believe happened in Australia about a community that disliked the sound of a particular bird so much they set about eradicating it. With the decline of the bird there was a surplus of a particularly nasty snake. You see the birds’ favourite food was, you guessed it, the nasty snake. The bird was allowed to make a come-back and the snake population declined. Hubris.

The human species is like a small child who wants to run before they can walk. They don’t think what the ramifications will be to putting their hand on a hot stove because, well, they want to. And they don’t seem to learn from the pain. We don’t seem to learn. I am speaking generally and as a species when the truth is, there are those who are fighting to regain the balance. I just hope we haven’t left it too long.

As individuals you may think there’s very little we can do to affect the global imbalances but individuals are part of a community and communities are part of the whole which does affect everything.  So, when I hear someone saying that ‘there’s nothing they can do they’re just one person’ I disagree. Your small part is a part of the bigger picture and a bigger picture can move mountains. It all starts with one person, one belief, one action. Which becomes two, which becomes four, which becomes thousands. That’s how we get our work done…

 

 

 

 

 

What Is a Poem?

Is Poetry just words,

Set down on a page?

Or is it a hunger,

Of sadness or rage?

 

Is it straight from the heart,

Through words from the mind?

An attempt to connect,

Perhaps redefined?

 

If truth is the goal,

Are the words more satirical?

To soften the blow,

They could be quite lyrical!

 

I know in my heart,

The words here are true.

Impassioned, embolden,

The many, the few.

 

Poetry is love,

It is hate and despair.

For some it’s a way,

To show that they care.

 

The sweet gentle kiss,

Of a butterfly’s wings.

The dulcet sweet sounds,

As the Morning Dove sings.

 

Poetry is the blood,

That flows through the words.

The cadence the spice,

In first and in thirds.

 

Fear not the meaning,

Immersed in the rhyme.

Poetry is everything,

And nothing in time.

 

Share in your knowledge,

And destroy every barrier.

Rejoice in the words,

And then be a carrier.

 

 

Pulchritude

How can a word that means beauty, come out sounding like spit? No, really, it does. Or how about the sound a cat makes just before he lands a hairball on your brand-new living room rug? It is not a pretty word. It has a beautiful meaning but the word itself is unattractive.  And yet the word ugly actually looks kind of cute. All those curly bits. Confused yet? Read on…

I love words for their meaning but they also have other attributes. They can visually form patterns that are pleasing to the eye or perhaps discordant. I know most people don’t look at words that way but I do. I do not like the word yellow and yet I love the colour, some shades.  Why you wonder? I have no idea. I know what I like the look of, exactly the same way I know what I like the taste of. I don’t like beets. It’s as simple as that. Using beets to dye something can be incredible. They have the most extraordinary colour but I don’t like the taste of them.

There are several forms of poetry that are restrictive. Allowing only a certain number of syllables per line which actually forms an image. A shape that is pleasing to the eye. Was it intentional? Possibly, I don’t know.  What I do know is that some poetry forms are not as pleasing to look at. Again, is it intentional? Probably not. How many people do you know that are so twisted that they look at the image of the word on a page as well as its meaning? I don’t imagine there are too many of us.

When I write poetry or prose, I am always aware of how it looks on the page. Are there too many paragraphs? Are there too few?  I find different fonts are more comfortable, more pleasing to the eye. I think aesthetics is a big part of our understanding simply because if we find something pleasant to look at, we are more likely to invest more time reading the words. If I’m reading a book that is uncomfortable, I will put it aside. If the words are that compelling, I might go back but I might not.

Another thing I am constantly aware of is cadence. Perhaps more so in poetry because it does have a singsong quality to it, in my opinion. But it is also there in prose.  Long sentences tend to promote comfort unless they are too long in which case they are irritating. Short sentences are like short burst of energy. The words, the meanings are sharp and cutting. Using words that are over long and verbose is like having two types of gravy for the same meal:  unnecessary. If used properly words have such incredible power. They have the capacity to love, to hate, to cajole and to succour. Please use them responsibly.

 

Errant Thoughts

An errant thought crept up on me,

I didn’t have a chance.

It made me climb a big old tree,

And pushed me off a branch!

 

Then I waded in a pool,

With mud and creepy crawlies!

Something wrapped around my leg,

How somethings’ get their jollies!

 

Please! Oh please! Just let me out!

Let my thoughts be nice.

A hunk of cheese, a glass of wine,

Perhaps leave out the mice!

 

But I fear, it’s not to be,

My thought is on a bender.

It thinks of things I’d never do!

Could I just surrender?

 

Bungee jumping from a plane?

I think that thought is crazy!

Deep sea diving and no mask?

The world is getting hazy!

 

I was startled from the thought,

Alarms began to squawk!

Now the world is settling down,

It’s just my bedside clock!