housecleaning and poetry
this evening, I decided to move things around among my friends lists - So, If it looks like I un-friended you - though it's unlikely since mostly this was communities - but it might be *your* community -- I probably regrouped you into my graphics or icon journals, or am preparing to move you to a writing one
I thought this would take a couple of hours, but the techno spirits are still laughing their little electric derrieres off over that. I made a good start, though, and I think (I hope) when I'm done, I will have an easier time keeping caught up with what matters most to me. (That's you guys, writing more frequently and Faramir...)
I found a fragment of a Denethor poem I was writing to be inserted into a story Chris is working on - she lost her momentum, so I did, too - but maybe it will percolate to the top now, since I haven't written anything in that voice for some time, and I'm sure his birthday falls around this time - he is *such* an Aries.... and since I am thinking about fire signs....
*************************
Poetry Month:
Burning the Old Year
By Naomi Shihab Nye
Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.
So much of any year is flammaable,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.
Orange swirling flame of days,
so little is a stone.
Where there was something and suddenly isn't,
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.
I begin again with the smallest numbers.
Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,
only the things I didn't do
crackle after the blazing dies.
I thought this would take a couple of hours, but the techno spirits are still laughing their little electric derrieres off over that. I made a good start, though, and I think (I hope) when I'm done, I will have an easier time keeping caught up with what matters most to me. (That's you guys, writing more frequently and Faramir...)
I found a fragment of a Denethor poem I was writing to be inserted into a story Chris is working on - she lost her momentum, so I did, too - but maybe it will percolate to the top now, since I haven't written anything in that voice for some time, and I'm sure his birthday falls around this time - he is *such* an Aries.... and since I am thinking about fire signs....
*************************
Poetry Month:
Burning the Old Year
By Naomi Shihab Nye
Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.
So much of any year is flammaable,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.
Orange swirling flame of days,
so little is a stone.
Where there was something and suddenly isn't,
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.
I begin again with the smallest numbers.
Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,
only the things I didn't do
crackle after the blazing dies.