Home Posts tagged "poetry" (Page 2)

Tag: poetry

Searching for Consistency in Chaos

Yeah, that’s basically been my life for…gosh…since August of last year? Not counting COVID, just business stuff, now. Somehow the editing part of my business exploded and I started getting jobs way more frequently than usual…one after the other. While this was totally awesome and lucrative, it required some adjusting — from the way I structured my workday to the way I scheduled each and every job. And, for the most part, it hasn’t really let up since. Which is awesome. And a bit rough. And then we also have COVID in there, and the usual life stuff, and my health crap and and and… So things have been seriously off kilter for awhile. So much that I haven’t written in months. One of my editing clients, who I routinely talk shop with, asked me the other day how the writing was coming along and I had to honestly tell him that I’d written 181 words in January and that was it for the year so far. And some poetry. And in years past I’d written every single day. My least prolific year back then was around 86,000 words, back when I spent a bit more time editing than drafting. My most prolific year? 399,000 words. Four standard novels, folks. But back then I had 9-to-5 day job. I came home, ate dinner, and wrote. Rinse and repeat. For years. It was not only a routine, but a comfort. I knew I could always go into my worlds and play.…

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More Poems!

For our April freebie, I was in a poetry mood again. Here are more poems! Hope you enjoy! ~Erin Before Poetry We are made of star-stuff, Carl Sagan said But before poetry I was not a starEmpty, useless, aimlessstitched together crookedcobbled together with dust and boneand a muttered prayer over me I was not a vibrating pulsating thingmy heart lay deadgray and rottedmy silver strands of meaning severedparting gifts no light of creationcradled within But nowPoetry is lifeblood, red-hot and flowing through my veinsfire and tears, leaving echoes where they touched,It is the burning energy and the searing of passion,shining with silver gossamer light It is the infinitesimal spark of creation,lighting me up like a spirit in the darknessfilling me with purpose and meaningstitching me back togetherto myself Watch as my heart beats again, strong and surealive again Can you see it? It is meStar stuff. Secrets You tuck a strand of hair behind my earand your eyes meet minein them I see a perfect mirror image of myselfOn your bed, caught in repose, aftersweet communion.When I prayed the tide of years wouldn’tdrown usand our love was as vast as the ocean I pulled the Lenormand Fish card todayand it speaks of deep, deep connections Looking into your eyes, I can believe thatour souls have spent lifetimes intertwined We start a slow back-and-forth movement ofswings, our hands joined, our feet drawinginvisible pictures in the grass. I want to trace your fate lineand see if it matches mine— “We’ve much too…

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The Breath-Stealer

by Siri Paulson In a dark pandemic winter our breath is trapped in our lungs with fear of the breath-stealer “Look for the helpers” sounds stale by now “Let’s talk” sounds laughable “Thank you” will never be enough we cling to “Protect the vulnerable” but it’s a long, long road each of us walking alone or in tiny groups, bereft of the touches and smiles and tiny moments that made up our lives, once A day in the neighbourhood, going for brunch with a loved one, chatting with shopkeepers, strolling home along the sidewalk our breath easy, relaxed… A spin on the dance floor, a community moving together, stomping and twirling as one, smiling into others’ faces, breathing each other’s air as the band plays on the stage… A hug from a loved one, family or a dear friend, catching a wink or a gaze, sharing a plate across the table, a visit to a home where we are welcome, a head massage or a playful poke, breathless because we’re laughing so hard, casual platonic intimacy… A flight across the globe, an adventure away from home, new air entering our bodies as we breathe deep new smells sounds tastes sights, to carry back inside us, expanded… We never dreamed of a day when we’d lose all of those at once the little things and the big ones, crowds and theatres and stadiums casual shopping, casual hugs, bare faces and free breaths, lives more expansive than we knew… Now we are…

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Three Love Poems

Hi, this is Erin. For this month’s Freebie, I am sharing three poems from my Bad Poetry Project. 🙂 Hope you enjoy. STARDUST AND SONG The scaffolding of my hope may never reachthe height of my prayersStill I climbStill I searchStill I listenfor the whisper, the echo, your voicelost in thundercloudsyour song,my foreveryour placea carving inside my heartetched with words I wrap around myselfwhen I cannot breatheYou breathe for me,sustenancewhen the loneliness punchesa hole in my heart,you hold me, rock me,bring me back to myself. You’re my center, my True North, my lightto guide me homeWe are stardust and song,we are eternal. IN THE EDGES OF DREAMS You stood on stage, an angelwrapped in hues of redWhen you sang, it forged a connection between usever brightpast to presentmemory to memoryaching soul to aching soul You touched my hand,a brush of fingers,but in that moment, I sawyou were the missing part of methe part that called to me in the edges of dreamsthe part that whispered to me in the nightthe part I lost in the shadow of time—Your voice soothed my tattered edges We weren’t alone anymorewrapped around each other in pure bliss,joined in this placemade of starlight and promises And then I awoke with the dawn— To think I’d never feel your lips on mineor taste the sweetness of your wordsto think I’d never seehow your eyes captured minehow our life together unfoldedyears falling into yearsTo think I’d never hear your voicewhisper perfect, loving wordsTo think I’d never hear…

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More Fluff: Bad Poetry Project

To continue the “fluff posts” I’ve been writing for the past few months, I wanted to talk in further depth about the “bad poetry” I’ve been writing. Last time I mentioned it, I hadn’t actually started writing it yet. I’d been contemplating it, because I wanted to get back into writing poetry again without the pressure of writing perfect prose, the perfect turns of phrase, the perfect imagery. I was (and still am, to be honest) scared to write “wrong” that I wasn’t writing at all. But what is “wrong,” really? A poem is simply a feeling, imagery, an idea, put into some kind of verse (or non-verse), right? There’s really no wrong way to write it, technically. Sure, there’s rough poetry, and there’s awkward writing of beginners who need to hone their craft —like yours truly once did once upon a time—but usually it’s not “bad” per se. But calling my poetry now “bad poetry” gave me the freedom to play. I actually write at the top of every document “Bad poem” and the date. Really! Because that told me and my brain/muse that this was just pretend, I’m playing right now, it’s not a big deal, it doesn’t have to be pretty…and it set me free. Granted, these poems aren’t great literature. They probably wouldn’t win any awards. They might be publishable with some massaging. (Which I am considering). But it’s been fun, and it’s helping me keep my hand in creativity during this time when I am…

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Two Poems in Memory of Ursula K. Le Guin

by Siri Paulson A Bit of Background Ursula K. Le Guin has always been one of my favourite writers, but I had drifted away from her over the years, as one does. When she died in January 2018, I decided to go back and read all of her Hainish universe works, many of which I had missed (she wrote novels, short stories, and various lengths in between). I’m about halfway through, reading each of them in order. It was fascinating to watch her craft develop. I fell in love with her work all over again. And…well, I’m a writer, so I process things by writing… The first poem is about a (fictional) invention of Le Guin’s called the “ansible,” a way to communicate faster than light in her Hainish universe, which does not have FTL travel. The second poem is about her three early SF novels and how they led her to writing her fifth and most famous novel, The Left Hand of Darkness. (The first Earthsea book is her fourth novel, but I left that out since I haven’t reread it yet…might need to write more poetry later on!) Enjoy! Ansible vast gulfs of darknessseparate humanityeach in our own tiny orbitbridging that distancewould take years she gave us a wayto reach out,not to touchbut something greater—conversationthe yearning to hear another,satisfiedthe need to be heard,metthe wish to understandstill out of reachbut just a little closer we whirl in our orbitsknowing nowthat we can talkand for just an instantthe vast distance…

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