Tag: writing

Cat Dancing

I am a dancer. 

I am a dancer in the same sense that I am a writer. 

I dance, but no one pays me for my efforts.

I dance, and sometimes people laugh.

I dance even when no one is watching.

I dance just because I can.

My cats are puzzled by my dancing, though, whereas they are completely oblivious to my writing.

Often I dance on the soft, faux fur rug in front of the flat screen tv in our den. The rug tickles my soles and cushions my steps.

This same rug is the cats’ favorite spot to curl up for a nap on a sunny afternoon, so my dance steps must be careful lest I squish one of my best friends. I like a little danger in my dance.

The truth is they could move at any time, yet they choose to be part of my choreography. I could dance elsewhere, but then my feline audience would be deprived of my display of grace and natural rhythm. I really am gifted.

Just ask the cats.

by Burton Silver

Mind Field

Don’t mind me.
I’m gingerly negotiating
this space fraught with
ideas, absurdities, and
irreconcilable differences.

I’m of a mind to
chuck it all and navigate
someone else’s field for
at least a little while,
and see what may be gleaned.

Speak your mind
before someone else does
the speaking for you. Don’t
worry about the shrapnel;
it only hurts when they laugh.

Never mind.
This is mostly illusion
anyway, although most
of the pitfalls are real
and possibly explosive.

Mind your manners;
they will come in handy
when you have to deal
with the after effects
and resulting injuries.

Keep an open mind
and don’t judge others
whose fields might not
be as fertile as yours.
Boom! One step too far.

  

Why I Write

  
I came across this on a friend’s Facebook page this morning and thought, “YES!”

How often have I heard, “Oh you write a blog. Do you make any money?” Or, after reading one of my blog posts, “You should be a writer!”

Well, I am. Just because I don’t have a book deal doesn’t mean I’m not a writer.

I wouldn’t know how to go about being a published author any more than I know about performing heart surgery. I don’t write to be published. I write to rescue that abandoned puppy. Sometimes I am that puppy. 

And I don’t perform open heart surgery because people would die. As far as I know, my writing hasn’t killed a single person. This week, anyway.

Body of Work

she writes for herself
strange words, stranger ideas
maybe she’s crazy.

she writes poetry
searching for some symmetry,
imagery within.

she thinks in phrases,
bits and pieces whose sums are
greater than their parts.

WordPress and Me–Happy Anniversary to Us

One year ago today on a whim I decided to begin writing a blog. I promised myself I’d post something every day for one month. Really, that was my only goal, just to consistently write. How hard could it be? 

That first month was pure agony. I worried about what people would think. I worried about how many people might read my words. I worried about topics. I worried about fonts and styles. I worried about running out of things to worry about. I’m a great worrier.

After 30 days I think I had five followers. Five. But I found I was enjoying the writing. I even enjoyed racking my brain for topics. And five people were reading my blog. Two of them even seemed to like it.

I decided to keep posting daily for three more months. The agony was still there, but I learned to work with it, to make it work for me instead of against me on most days.

In addition, I learned about tagging my posts–finding the little bits and pieces within a piece that might draw people to my writing. Suddenly I had people from all over the world reading what I wrote and following me. In turn, I found bloggers whose work interested me and began following them. (See below)

We began a give and take of information and support. It was amazing to have others read and comment on my writing. That’s become my favorite part of this adventure.

Three months turned into a year, and I’m proud to say that I’ve averaged more than one post per day for the past 365 days. I have a few more than five followers now, but that’s beside the point. I have fun! 

I’ve learned something wonderful from these writers/photographers/artists:

Stop worrying! Be yourself! Write!

www.http://sanseilife.wordpress.com

https://tlryder.wordpress.com

http://trudistreasures.com

http://inesemjphotography.com/

https://aroilinpain.wordpress.com/

http://shirleysheaven.wordpress.com/

http://notesfromtheuk.com/

http://frommidnighttodawnlight.com/

https://mikesteeden.wordpress.com/

https://doubleupoet.wordpress.com/

https://reachingmeadowlane.wordpress.com/

http://poesypluspolemics.com/

https://alotfromlydia.wordpress.com/

https://eurobrat.wordpress.com/

http://movingtowardsthelight.com

http://naturehasnoboss.com/

https://belindacrane.wordpress.com/

https://mommycookforme.wordpress.com/

http://kittomalley.com/author/kittomalley/

http://themischiefmemoirs.com/

https://epicgran.wordpress.com/
https://redswrap.wordpress.com/

I know I’ve left some important folks out. It wasn’t intentional, I promise! 

Peace and thanks, people!

Slack Jack

Cut me some slack, Jack!

I’ve done nothing recently 

Most all my sins are past. 

There were days when I 

Could not tell the truth 

Even if my life depended on it. 

It was a weakness.  

Some days still I find lies 

Pulling at my tongue. 

They are so much more 

Interesting than my truths. 

This is why I write.

  

Peace, people!

Slipping Away

i talk to myself
hoping to
unknot persistent
ideas that
repeatedly careen
around the
smooth cornerless
contours of my mind
like a bird against a
pane wanting in,
even if they die
in the process.

mixed media art by Alex Cherry

In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: If you could have a guarantee that one specific person was reading your blog who would it be? What would you say to them?

I’m awfully good at flippant remarks, and so very many rushed to mind when I first read this prompt. For once instead of just blurting out a quick answer, I took a deep breath and thought. And thought. Then I thought some more. I thought so long that several daily prompts came and went, and I was still thinking.

Finally I decided.

Mom, 

I miss you. I think you would have enjoyed my blog. Heck, you’d have had one yourself. You’d have never thought your writing was good enough, but you’d have continued writing just the same. I get that from you. 

I hope you can read between the lines of my posts and see just how much I still love you and how much of you lives on in me.

With love,

Leslie

Blogging Junkie

Psssst. Hey, you, yea you.
You got any good ideas?
C’mon man, I just need one.
That’s all I need.
Just a little hit and then I’ll give it up for good.

Oh?
I told you that yesterday?
My bad.
But, I picked up two more followers, man,
and they’re gonna want the good stuff.

I’m jonesin’ dude.
Yeah, I can stop writing anytime I want,
but you know, this ain’t the right time.
I’ll just write one more post.
I promise.

What’s that?
I should write about wine?
No dude.
I already did that like three times already.
Maybe I should find a new supplier.
You keep peddling that same old sh*t.

Pssssst. Hey you.

IMG_0186.JPG

Praying for Eyebrowz: Begin the Beguine

Here I am, feeling just like a kid on my first day of school. Fresh spiral notebook atop a desk etched with generations of meaningless graffiti, brand spanking new pen or sharply pointed pencil at the ready, and me, believing that my whole school year balanced on the first symbol I placed on that virgin surface. What I wouldn’t have given for the cleanliness of a delete button!

So, here I go again, thinking that the future of my blog depends on these first symbols. It would be lovely if the thoughts that swirl through my brain for hours every single menopausal night would magically appear on my screen. Those thoughts are, in part, what motivate me to start this endeavor. If I can get them down here, maybe they’ll leave my brain alone and let me sleep.

There are no lofty goals for my writing. Some days I’ll amuse, other days reflect, still others I’ll write to understand. I’m a big fan of pretending, so expect to see that, as well. And, I’ll almost always let my readers know if I’m leading them on.

I was once told by a well-meaning, earth mother esthetician that my eyebrows were too sparse. “Well,” I asked. “What would you have me do about that?”

Without blinking an eye, she replied, “Do you believe in a higher power?”

When I answered in the affirmative, she continued, “Then pray!”

So, I considered doing just that. After praying for world peace, an end to hunger, and the well-being of my family and friends I decided that praying for eyebrows was just a little bit on the vain side. But what a great name for a rock and roll band! Change the spelling a bit to make it edgy. Let me know if you want to lend your talents to Praying for Eyebrowz, but I get dibs on lead singer.

Peace, People.