He Rose, Stretched, and Sighed

He Rose, Stretched, and Sighed

the trainspotter came

perched himself on the

edge of a tumbledown stool

to recite his insides etched

into a soft parade of journal pages

the poems became part of the walls

illuminating secrets behind the sun

his hope and panic commanded little

enthusiasm

unashamedly shrewd

the carousing scene-maker

working strictly in metaphors

unapologetically hit the ceiling

when editors meditated on his

black corduroy jacket instead

he rose, stretched, and sighed

exited clunking his heavy boots

unsung art tucked tight under arm

cursing under his tobacco pant

slurred and strange to conventioneers

a poet’s fire

a poet’s ire

**

It's a rainy Monday.  Again.  I flaked on all writing duties this weekend.  However, I just discovered the full scope of a new character's name for my third short story with the working title, 'Too Much To Contain'.  My friend Matt Epp helped me name him when I took to Facebook for help.  Today, I randomly clicked on something, a slight secret discovery and alas his whole name is complete.  I love when things fall into place. Sometimes it pays to play around and waste mindless time on the internet.  

I did enjoy my weekend.  Friday evening I wasn't feeling the best so when I arrived home from work I collected pillows and a blanket, thew on my jammies and curled up for movies.  I watched the Canadian made hockey flick 'Goon' and then got into some really heavy cinema but taking a second stab at 'Zero Dark Thirty'.  Quite a heavy film but really well done.  On Saturday ventured over to Halifax, had a bite of lunch at The Carleton and watched the 2013 Halifax Pride Parade.  It's such a delightful parade, upbeat, colorful, full of music, cheer, love, acceptance and well ... pride.  Tens of thousands of people came out to support the parade. Always such a tremendous event.  I love that I live in a city where who you love is your own business.  My LGBT friends and yours deserve the same rights and courtesies we expect as a heterosexuals. Love is love is love.  It was a fun day.  Sunday I meant to do some writing but I was out enjoying the sunshine with Erica, her girls and her Mom.  We ran errands and grabbed wings for lunch and by the time I got home I was too tired and brain dead to get any editing done.  My bad.  Bad writer.  I blame summer. The heat!  Not my fault.  How do you spell denial? N.I.C.O.L.E.  Ha!

A wee poem to start the week.  Let's get this crazy creative train back on track!  It's a new day.  A new week.  I should set realistic writing goals for myself.  I should.

In propinquity,

Nic