Fruit Fly Elegy

This is going to sound really strange, but although I haven’t written any poetry in several days, I’ve been “thinking in poetry” the whole time.  I can’t really say I haven’t had time to write any…that isn’t it.  I sit here and start to write it but I don’t have a starting place so
the writing doesn’t happen.  I’m not sure why, but it’s annoying as heck. I’ve blogged some over the past few days, and I can’t say I’m displeased with what I’ve written; I just miss the poetry.  I’m sure it will return…it always does.

I’ve already tried to go to bed once tonight.  Started reading for a bit at about 9:30 and got so sleepy I couldn’t hold my eyes open so I doused the reading lamp and snuggled down for sleep.  Right.  I tossed and turned for the next hour, every sound startling me awake and leaving me shaking.  And for the oddest reason, this stupid…thing…keeps going over and over in my head every time I turn toward the dresser, where the remains of…well…

Fruit Fly Elegy

I killed a fruit fly just last night
Alas, he didn’t fall just right
Instead of making proper crash
He stuck right where I made the smash
So now when I would seek to sleep
My slumber never reaches deep
But waking oft, I’m drawn to look
At where I lately slammed my book
Against the dresser near my head
While I was reading late in bed
He didn’t even have the guts
To fall, so still he drives me nuts

Something tells me there are those who will wish my poetry had stayed lost.


Not Today

My friend, Debbie died Saturday.  Cancer took her life not long after her 40th birthday.  I can’t talk about cancer.  I can’t talk about death.  I can’t face it.  I should be able to, but I can’t.  Something happened to me the day Joyce died.  Something vital in me left with her.  I think it was my ability to face serious illness head-on.  Maybe one day I’ll be able to.

But today, I can’t.

First Thoughts

I love the “look” of this site…the blue captures the “me” in me somehow.  Tonight I am a mixture of emotions…deep contemplation mixed with annoyance, anxiety, curiosity, stress, fatigue, and (oddly enough) hope.

I find it almost intriguing, the thought of maintaining a public blog.  I mean, I’m writing four or five books at once, and if I put everything here, what will that mean for the books that should hold it all?  Perhaps here I can flesh out the myriad ideas so they’ll make sense as I “massage” them into some kind of sensible book form…?

I have many words tonight but sadly not much energy, so this entry will be brief.  Hopefully the ones to come will be more in-depth…or at least be worth the few moments it takes to read them.