I plan to self-publish some poetry by the end of this year! After ten years of blogging, I’ve accumulated quite the collection and I couldn’t be more proud.
Walking In Cemeteries is a collection of poetry about depression, anxiety, work, love and silliness.
Author’s Note:
I am very lucky in my current situation to be able to work from home. My heart goes out to those who work in essential jobs who are more and more at risk everyday. It’s been stressful for all of us. Our chocolate lab, Koda, has been providing the entertainment here. He might not be the most well-behaved co-worker sometimes, but he is definitely our free-lance therapy dog right now. Below is just silliness.
Stay safe everyone!
Amanda
When my dog works
It’s all about play
He sits near your chair
As you begin your day
Somehow, his ball makes
its way on your desk
His wet nose touches your elbow
You tell him to rest
Just when it’s quiet
You have to go pee
Of course, he has to come along
(In case there’s something to see)
Back in the office
You answer a call
He gets stuck under the desk
While getting his ball
He looks up at you
With a big doggy grin
Wagging his tail
Let’s do it again
And again
And again
And again
I pad through puddles
Feels nice on feet
squishy wet grass
is a tasty treat
I find stick
tastes yummy too
water drips on my nose
I chew and chew
Then towel time
So warm and soft
I chase and play
As Human dries me off
I miss the rain
When it goes away
I like the wet and mud
Every day
Should I write, or take a nap? My body doesn’t really give a crap.
My head says no, my heart says yes
Maybe I should just get dressed
Just lying here in bed
The fan swirling around my head
My heart chiming its steady beat
Its really all up to my feet
Should I stay or should I go
The rest of you say no
Feet say yes, and wiggles toes
Let’s just see how the rest of this goes
This is just silliness this Saturday. But my, it does feel good to relax today! Just finished watching Guernsey and the Literary Potato Peel Society on Netflix. I feel so inspired to write now. What a great feeling!
Wrote some blackout poetry at the library today. They had a little station of copied pages from books, and only a red marker – I guess someone took the black? Anyway, I had fun.
It reads:
Then stillness
the one I’d wanted
were standing outside the door
breathe the landscape
that enclosed us
the tender edges
our centeredness
her dress
her name
blended
with the room
About a week ago, Mike and I had to say goodbye to his dog, Marley. He had Lyme disease that went to his kidneys and after a few trips to the vet we were saying goodbye sooner than we ever thought possible.
Although he wasn’t mine, I loved him. He was our family and now he’s gone. We are dealing with it as best we can. But it’s never easy saying goodbye.
Saying Goodbye
I didn’t want to say the words, “put down”
Like he was some shiny toy
We had picked up and lost interest
too cold to think of leaving
Such a treasure behind
to think of all the tail wags, the last sniffs in the snow
the moment before the final moment the worst
a deep sleep that hurts
One final pin-prick, back leg trembles.
I couldn’t find the words to say
I’ll help you
I’m right here
I’m sorry
Then, sobbing in the car like I’d lost something I’ll never find again
Tail wags, brown, liquid eyes full of courage
You’re hurt and you’re dying and all you have to say is: I love you
Dum Dee Dum…
Feeling like a bum
all in bed, nightie on
feeling sleepy
energy gone
watching Netflix
making rhymes
life is exhausting
…to be creative
…sometimes
I like the new job, guys, but it’s hard to be creative sometimes when you are burnt out from work. Sometimes I work out after dinner, and that seems to give me more energy. Sometimes I read. But most of the time, I am a bum, sitting and watching Netflix and just tired, tired, tired.
What about you guys? What keeps you motivated?
these trees
this water
piles of rocks
endless possibilities
those smells
that sound
water throws
itself down
cascading possibilities
Managed to spend a good four to five hours writing today! This is good news! I worked on a few projects at once, but one project I really got in to today. I realized I could probably submit it to the writer’s digest contest by June 1st, but to do that it needs some serious rewrites.
I got in the writers mindset a lot today and trying to emerge…is like waking up from a deep sleep. (At least it is for me.) I get this spacey expression on my face, and conversation is difficult, because part of me is still thinking about character’s dialogue in my head or planning which way a character is gong to go next. It is an interesting feeling to say the least, but hey, at least I was productive today!
Pictured I snapped this weekend at the lake.
a writing sort of mood
everything sounds like poetry
blank stare
“Whaa…”
emerge from the world
like a band-aid ripped from a wound
jarred back to the present
words are like poetry
the trees are like poetry in motion
and everything is heavy, heavy, heavy
like a dark blanket
trapping the sun
in its shadows
Dear Grandma,
I miss you
I think of you everyday
your loud laughter
your eye-crinkle smile
even your house
that smelled a certain way
the holidays are near
I want to show I care
I want to know that you’d be proud
I want to feel like you’re here
I want someone
to throw wrapping paper
I want someone
to squeeze me so tight it hurts
I want the fake snow-flake decals
on every single window
It doesn’t feel like Christmas
now that you’re gone, grandma…
it feels like a big hole is missing
that place that used to exist
the place where Christmas used to be
I imagine it sucked out like a giant vacuum
a void, a black hole
a darkness that feels so sad
and so angry
so empty
so empty
It makes me mad
that you’re not here
to see the years past
you won’t get the family bulletin
a summary of the year
of life’s triumphs
and heart-breaks
Instead we drag on
we trudge behind time
like lost little sheep
we labor to it
we are slaves to it
we worship it
but we can’t do anything
there’s nothing I can do about you being gone
I’d know what you’d say
you’d laugh and say something like,
“Trust God, and in him, all things are possible.
And what are you worrying about anyway?
I’m with him. And that’s as it should be…”
But it feels so sad, Grandma…
so hopeless,
without you.
A. J. Morse 