Random Thoughts

I haven’t been doing much writing lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking but that’s nothing more than just internalizing all of my thoughts and not giving them space to breath. Today, as I was out cycling, I began thinking, once again internalizing, about what it is that is keeping me from actually writing. I think it’s because I have yet to come to terms with being retired. I just don’t feel retired, I don’t yet have any grasp on the intricacies of retirement. I have been actively engaged, either as a student or a worker, for the better part of my life and now here I sit trying to sort out what this all means. So much has happened in the last few months, leaving Trinity, then selling our home in Melrose, moving to Delaware and finding a new home here in Smyrna, which I still haven’t gotten used to, yet. Now, the season of Advent is almost upon us and I have nothing to prepare for, no services, no annual Christmas fair, no visits to be made, no Christmas pageant to prepare, I just sit here while “Church” happens. To be honest, I miss Trinity, I miss the people, the activities the whole community and yet, I needed to leave, it was time. It doesn’t mean I have to like leaving, but it does mean that I now need to refocus my energies. The good news is that in a couple of weeks I will be taking a retreat up at Holy Cross Monastery in upstate New York. This retreat is actually a poets retreat, a time to get away and in the silence and solitude of the monastery to help me to get some perspective, not only my poetry but all of my writing efforts. Stories are everywhere and I do have stories to tell, I have poetry to write and so much stuff rolling around in my head that if I don’t write it will burst out anyway. One thing I need to do is get back into the GrubStreet mode, write everyday, don’t worry about being perfect, just write. That poem lurking back there among other thoughts that litter my mind, go ahead and write that also, stop worrying, no one is perfect. Take that chance, write that story, set down those internal thoughts on paper or in this case, the iPad, and allow it the space to grow in the light instead of festering in the backwash of the mind. Maybe, if I write down these thoughts, it I take some time to explore them as they take shape on the pages, then I might just discover something about myself that has lain in the dark for so long.

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Personal Dilemma

My desk is littered with half read books

journals that I have barely scanned

bits and pieces of sermon notes

and reminders to myself to do something.

On my iPad there are unread poems

that I intend to get to as soon as I can

but there is always something else,

a death this week, a crisis of faith next.

I intend to write more poetry and prose

I want to reveal the inner fears and dreams

yet, those old voices creep shouting 

and my own ego is much deflated

as I would rather seek a place away

somewhere deep in the enchanted woods

where I may lay my head and dream in color.

Away from all of the mechanical noises

that burrow into the skull polluting the mind

and overwhelming my ability to just be.

I look now at this poem, this small offering

above it another half written poem awaits.

Deep down I know I want to write

then again, 

deep down fear crowds out creativity.

Where do I go from here?

How do I end this poem?

Maybe that’s the answer,

no poem is ever really finished

no poet can ever sit back satisfied

the world is so full of darkness

and I hold a palette of vibrant colors

as I seek to paint with the words I see

streaming across the subconscious 

like wild horses running across the plains

unfettered, unafraid, untamed and free.

No Poetry Today

I should have wrote a poem today

I did start on a couple of thoughts

but I didn’t get very far with them

my mind was just not ready to work

to try and find those perfect words

that would make it all a poem

one of those clever poems 

that speak to the human condition

and can change the hearts of many

but today, I’m just not there

the words are like roaches

that scatter when the light is shed.

So, I didn’t write a poem today

I sat, I read, I jotted notes

but no poetry was written today.

The Void

Within the emptiness

that deep void

where light and sound

are muffled and blocked

is where I reside

in the present moment.

The words are many

that revolve around

the moonscape 

that I sense lays out there.

I reach in to grasp

but come out empty handed

unable to fully come to terms

as logical people do.

I’m not that logical

my mind lives in a fog

a flurry of words

mixed with deep feelings.

Love, is my only recourse

yet even that seems lost

in the diatribe raining down

flooding my deepest senses.

I write in this emptiness

as the fog surrounds me

and hope the words suffice

to bring healing to my heart

in the silence of my soul.

Writers Block

There comes a time

when it just won’t come

I sit and think and try

to write some witty lines

they just don’t materialize.

Some call it writers block

or a dry spell in the mind.

It does happen to us all

a period of groping

of digging deep into the well.

It’s like a fog laying heavily

along the landscape

pressing down upon trees

obscuring ones vision.

The bright colors muted

the patterns indiscernible

the words buried in dark graves

as silent as phantoms