445 days of writing this poetry blog today.. Can I just hollar out a big ol’ Yeowza. For those of you that continue to follow me. Thank you … There is some stuff that really’s not worthy of the read. And for me the doing of this is an amazing practice and keeps me honing my skills and gathering for my book. It will happen.
There’s no whine behind this happening
No, maybe I won’t or struggle to arrive
Here on these pages of morning life
to lay what ever needs saying down
The bubble of words pop random
streams across my sky as I grab
At the chance of how stray they
feel till pulled to sentences
Even then the word play shudders
for existence as feelings rise
hungry for a telling not yet known
a story that has its moment here
Like now in this grab bag of morning
sentences popping, giving themselves
in a tumble and wrestle for existence
hoping their now has at last come
Me, I don’t care. I don’t care because
there is no worry that my ramble
will not give to thoughtful resonance
In the vast pronouncement of words
Being shared, filling the spaces of space
in the global free for all to speak
to tell a story worthy of telling
Some more thoughtful than others
I’m grabbing at word bubbles
in random streams of consciousness
Stray words that have something to say
Feelings to share from the vast lonely
Laying them down here cause I can
