Lines listlessly bleed from a pencil
Cold gray eyes pull and scan
Those brilliant fields
That one burnt tree
Those children playing on a picnic blanket
Cirrocumulus clouds stretch into the horizon
It smells like honey, dirt and sun
The toppings of Spring
The paper imbues these hues
Though not perfectly
nothing captures this moment perfectly
Even now its changing
An airplane breaks high overhead
A cars door slams in the distance
Everything changes
No matter how fast Im sketching
the reason we sat
instead of talking
was that most things had
been said
so instead we draw in silence
relaxed, no thoughts of dread
we drink our coffee slowly
then finally we depart
it's nice to be around people
even if we are far apart
that's right, bottom of the barrell poetry prompts >_<
In a matter that i've mostly just forgotten
I think the very best thing to be done
is just what was written
in hasty scripted lines
against the walls of this room
and that's to say
that it's insane
but that's why it's fun.
if life were like a vision
we'd be blind to the true one
so the lines we write
are crossed and thick
and don't accurately represent what our minds expect
that is why such logic feels slow
that just as it leaves our fingertips
the memory has flowed
the subject shriveled
the next thought has grown
it's why we watch movies
not caring for the tones
why we sit watching rain fall
not caring if we are wet
we want to experience now..
and now is just passing you by
while your not paying attention
to the frames moving
to the actors speaking
to the words on the wall
screaming
I started to notice, the change...
the moment sharply shift
perceptively slowing down
I knew I was in the shit
sweat on my brow brimmed
as I recalled the news report
I had gotten the disease
that turns the clock slower
while my perception speeds up
So I started writing this
the blog post id always dreamed
as crystal clear prose flowed
wildly
like fish swimming down a stream
in my head the words moved in quick, vicious succession
until they were screaming at my muscles
to increase their iterations
they demanded that I move quicker
as I felt them lose their pace
I felt each muscle tensing
unable to keep its pace
through eyes that tried in vain to move
away from the monitor screen
i saw for a brief moment, my family
rushing to me – moving much to slow
I really wanted to flush out the idea for this poem some more. Something like the movie Crank but just in terms of the perception of time.
in each moment thoughts do swell
pushing – pressing prose
behind thin veils.
grows
until at last we force ourselves;
a moments ponder
this precocious dream
born from so little
that its birth was unforeseen.
how is life in a way
different than any thought
we have throughout the day
the passion
the pain?
that tiny spirit from deep
within
that drove itself ever forward
until that thought is all we feel
all we see
over visions of green days
or black chalky skies
or old memories
it's the thoughts we see when we close our eyes
thoughts born from that unforeseen
given life – deliberate
rushed
relieved
Been reading more work by Albert Camus and found this quote: In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer. – its always nice when you find something you remember hearing and FINALLY have a person to attribute it to.
at five years old
she saw the world
as it really is
gasping...
she relented
as quickly as it had started
the scene relented
but then
in the darkness
of her bedroom
she tried again
she urged the power
again
the world was stripped
laid bare to
her eyes
in this moment she saw everything
as it really was
streams of moonlight shown on the walls like silver honey pouring down walls in variegated grey hues
the mirror beside her bed glowed with yellow electricity seeming to beckon her
the carpet, she noticed, had grown into lush boysenberry colored grass
while the post of her bed had become trunks of young trees, with tan leaves
she marveled at this
her breathe raced
yet she stayed very still
the ceiling was ablaze with swirling clouds
white as a snow cap
a churning cauldron of mist
lazily wafting into the moonlight walls
she stared for a long time into this world
tomorrow she thought,
stopping her power
tomorrow we will have an adventure
Went on a walk this morning with a friend I hadnt seen since last March. Had a great time catching up and walking by a group of deer. The lakes I saw were partially covered in ice and I really wanted to dip a toe in. Its pretty amazing getting a chance to leave the house, relax and enjoy nature.
frost shimmers in spider webs
across the windshield
white clouds blur across the sky
the sidewalks barren
with the exception of one cat
walking briskly
outside
snow is falling
Its been a busy few days so im trying to remember that part of the 100 days to write means taking the time to write. I have been writing but mostly in the form of rpg encounters or the one off tweets. So im going to attempt to write a little more here more often and we'll see how that goes.
sometimes
I doubt you ever knew
that as you stole the moment
I took a piece of that too
Through life's endless contests
the validation
the invalidation
constant scoring
I endured
Listening to my work
stolen
reformed
retaken
then spewed back
anew
when last the moment is cold
I remember the sunset
I've been working hard this week at waking up at 7am. Hopefully I can get that down to 6am, but currently stopping myself from going to be before 11 most nights is a pipe dream. Honestly wish I could remember just how I was able to get in bed at 10pm when I was a teen (years.... ago). I mean, I would rush home before my 9pm curfew, write, get high and plan my next day in the course of an hour. Not sure what happened to those skills, but im blaming the night cap.
Also I paid the 50 dollars for a medium membership ( I didnt research them much but im hoping they aren't evil) and have been digesting so much click bait.