writer daydream haiku

Words flow like water
From thought to ink on the page
Every writers dream

shameless friend promotion 4

Bill, Bill, Bill…  Where is Bill?  Wait!  Not that Bill.  Bill Friday, of course.  The poet!  Though, it wouldn’t surprise me all that much if he knew Kung Fu too.  Anywho, this is another shameless friend promotion.  Have you read any of Bill’s poems before? You should.  I believe I’ve shared them before.  He has a knack for capturing a moment and then twisting on its head to make you think or to hit you in the feels or both.  Get his books.  Read them.  Expand your mind and your world.

A Death on Skunk Street is the first stand-alone book by Los Angeles poet William S. Friday. Subtitled, “…a life in poems”, the book is both a remembrance, and a look forward, at what Bernard Malamud (“The Natural”) called, “The life we learn with… and the life we live after that”. Skunk Street is a work of visions, written by a blue-collar college drop-out with the eloquence of an angry Psalmist. Parts neon and noir, full moon and sunsets, and the words that come from feelings too often unexpressed. From loneliness in a sea of humanity to, comfort in the company of self. There’s blood, and brains, printed on every page. In the author’s own words… “Somewhere along the way, after all the years and all the experiences, you realize that the only thing you have to show for them is your recollection of them. And then, you write. So I guess I’d have to say that I’m the guy who writes what he remembers.”

Buy your copy here.

ignorance

There were so many turtles.  We stopped by the shores of the pond to stretch our legs before getting back in the car for the long drive home and the turtles popped up from all over.  Their heads barely breaking the surface to study us before pulling back underneath only to pop up again a few feet closer.

There were so many turtles.  I think they must get fed by the strangers and daily visitors and maybe even by the people who maintain the adjacent park because why else would they come fearlessly close to investigate us?  They must expect food from the people who visit their pond.

There were so many turtles and I do not think we were supposed to feed them, but when I look at this picture I can’t help but feel that perhaps I was wrong.  Perhaps we were supposed to feed them.  Perhaps that was the cost for visiting their shores and strolling through their park.

There were so many turtles and I hope they can forgive me my ignorance if I have done wrong.

lines from a song writing prompt 3

Below I’m posting a bit from a song I love and then I’ll write something around it (not necessarily in the context from the original source but maybe).  If the line grabs you, please steal it and play along too.  Post a link in the comments so I can check out what you did with it as well.

……….

“And the three men I admire most, the father, son and the holy ghost, they caught the last train for the coast.”

……….

The station was a mess.  People running every which way trying to catch their connections.  Late.  Everyone was always late.  Coming or going.  North or south.  It didn’t matter.  Trains always ran late and that meant everyone was always in a hurry when they finally made it to the station.

That was only part of the mess, though.  Others sat around, blocking the hallways and generally bottling up the whole works.  Tears in their eyes.  Down trodden and depressed, the moved slowly with lowered heads and slumped shoulders.  Sometimes they congregated together but most of the time they stayed as far apart as their was room for.

Those were the two general reactions people had when they’d heard the news.  They either raced about frantic or they stopped altogether and did nothing.  They couldn’t be blamed, of course.  Nothing like this had ever happened before.  Nothing like this would ever happen again.

I’m not sure why they chose me but when they called I answered  because I admired them so greatly and then dropped them off at the station.  I even walked them to their platform to make sure they got off okay.  I didn’t ask why they were going and they didn’t offer an explanation but off they went all the same, to the coast of all places.  Why not, I guess.  Perhaps things would be different there.

Here the music had died and life would never be beautiful again.

mostly wordless wednesday 3

I’ve camped and hiked in some cold weather and cold conditions before and it never fails to impress how crazy it is a thing we love when we wake up to a sheet of ice over everything.  It isn’t spirit breaking.  It is spirit affirmation.  Yes this is crazy.  Yes this is love.