First Drafts

First drafts a dawning day. Night, doom to a soul determined. Death a weary friend.


Leave a comment

Lloyd Kiva (Man of Many Names)

I spent an hour at the IAIA Museum of Contemporary Native Arts (MoCNA) during a visit to Santa Fe, July 2016. Lloyd Kiva’s fabrics were on display, pictured below. To learn more about him visit Writings a Profession.

Words spur a destiny,
the fabric of our lives
weave a tale of heroes,
remove the seams despised.
They erase a feature here
and scribble a notion there,
we look back and agree,
life starts in mystic dreams.


 

 


1 Comment

Wisdom

Every bit of knowledge we bring to our fingers is an exploration worth pursuing. The more knowledge we obtain, the more hesitation brought all the same. Balancing self-criticism with self-realization can be independence as Capote explains. We see the dark that resides in ourselves and we garner the light to bring us resolution. Satisfaction is the game we seek to resolve our desires. Learning to be satisfied, understanding we reach a destination, this is our best audition of ourselves. No matter our grievances, let others be your critic and walk away. Let them know your confidence usurps their greatest lie.

“Take a good rest, small bird,” he said.
“Then go in and take your chance like any man or bird or fish.”
–Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea
Me thinks I need to go back and read Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. It is a short book of wisdom for every person who rises and witnesses the sun and falls asleep to the calm of night. We rock on the waves of our dreams and wake to purpose truth.
“Why do old men wake so early? Is it to have one longer day?”
–Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea
For my brother who loved to fish and my husband who still fishes. Me, I take along a book.
Happy writing, J


1 Comment

untitled

She knew who he was but struggled to see clearer. The wiping of her eyes produced nothing. It was her mind that was dragging, digging up past meetings. Words raised from the dead began dancing in her head. What was he feeling?

They searched for a uniform for her. She disgustedly looked at the colors and noticed names on the boards next to the grades. Was she in eight grade? Wow, college graduation was a few days ago. She knew better than to stay at his work but the intrigue grew inside her heart.

The owls in the room began to screech. She took off to watch the children in the playroom construct housing, future home designs for world overpopulation. Houses would need to be smaller and the kids quite creative. She spent hours watching their hands move with the mind’s eye seeing into the future.

He knew her but struggled to see her. His back turned towards the sun, he refused to look. The thoughts of her darkness spooked his soul. No matter the fates of their lives they both took matters into their own hands. She donned the uniform and strode off into the sunset.


Leave a comment

write your story

Once upon a time,
a lonely place to live,
characters on pages,
costumed in a closet.

A rescue and curtain call,
scurry out stage left,
orchestra music booming,
words blasted into space.

The streets confused,
a problem arose,
phobias and people grew,
living beyond bookends.

A poet’s prayer,
when fully known,
the pen strikes but days,
he welcomes the parade.


4 Comments

untitled

Pull the woolen blankets
up and over,
hit the snooze button
off and on.
Monday morning always crazy
while the weekend rambled on.

All good things ending
driving to and fro.
The car doors
open, closing
your spinning and a going,
the world spins ’round and ’round.


Leave a comment

Follows, the New Year and decisions we make.

Follows.

Why do people follow us on our blogs? Sincere desire? Trolling? Why do we freely share our thoughts? Companionship as artists? No man is an island after all. 

Should we write and publish before posting? Copyright our work before sharing? Should we be concerned about our work so rashly?

Sometimes I consider this journey narcissistic. Is this what others think? I realize it isn’t all about me. Others matter. Often they face bigger trials than I ever fought. Still, I realize self-care is important. How else can we help others?

So, this morning I dwell in deep thought and wonderment. I enjoy blogging, reading and discovering old and new talent. I probably won’t quit but some days I feel an urge to go solo. I guess I get giddy when I feel I wrote a piece I am proud of but soon find what I like, others don’t necessarily connect. This could be what brought on these thoughts as 2017 approaches.

New Year.

Each New Year I develop a theme and slogan for my life. I have accomplished this for four years. This will be my fifth. Previous years statements were something along the lines “Sing a new song” often with a particular twist. Last year it was a search of my dark self, sharing thoughts, often depressing. 

This year I am considering the adoption of “Warriors, Heroes and me”. How can I/we find within ourselves a warrior and hero? Do I/we remain outside looking for rescue or forge towards helping others? Could heroism be as simple as finding daily joy and beauty to share with others?

I look forward to the New Year. My mood has morphed into positivity, culminating at Christmas.  No apprehension exists. Then, like other years, once the sparkle and bling disappear, I can’t help but wonder will this “new” mood fly away again?

Decisions 

Life is worth figuring out and making decisions important. So this is where I sit, between the merry mood of the holidays and the bleak winter months.  With this new year, I wonder, will I find me as a phoenix, a butterfly or remain in my still hardened shell?

So what will the New Year bring for you? What decisions will you make?

As for now, I think I will post less, be more disciplined and practice patience. After all warriors must learn self-control and heroes conquer all.

Always a fellow blogger, J

(We shall see how long a potential new me lasts. I have not shared all past dark posts so a few could pop up occasionally. Just a warning: Beware!)