Audible To You

This is all I've really been able to write thus far. I've tried to sit with pen and paper all week and even working on my writing project has proven difficult. This, came as part of me finally sitting down this morning to catch up on a week's worth.

Audible to You

in the calm

of nightfall

you lapsed

& you leapt

it’s mortal

mathematics

artist to

artifact

I

trusted

how you

treated words

how you spoke

the stories true

this little prayer

audible to only

            you

he who walks

amongst the stars

            thank you

& goodnight

see you down the

road somewhere

**

What a difficult week.

In propinquity,

Nic

Gord's Crown

Three years ago today, fraught with worry over my Dad’s rapidly declining health, Gord Downie saved my spirit and my heart, just by singing not two feet from me and my buds. It was a life-altering experience that I have waxed poetic about time and again but on the anniversary, it takes me back to the Marquee, back in the moment when he walked on stage and my worries melted away just for a little bit. Because of that, Gord seeped into my writing project page for September 14^th, incidentally the same date the Hip’s ‘Long Time Running’ doc premieres in theaters.   Sillyheart wrote a poem about Gord so I wanted to share it here since every word she wrote, I believe in.

In honour:

Gord’s Crown

a head

full of gear

tinny recalls

brief poems

loud refrains

spontaneous bombs

under a hat

robust brim

plumed w/

feathers

wheat

& porcupine quills

atop

a stanch

wonted man

ordained

a signifier

an atom of

eternity

kindred champion

a soul adorned w/

diamonds

            & we bow

we listen

            we revere

eye & spirit

ear & heart

to the

Royal He

top tiered

            dropping

heavy

 ***

Sigh.

In propinquity,

Nic

Begging Bowl

I should be ashamed of myself for neglecting my blog for so long. But, it isn't because I haven't been writing. I am still going full steam ahead with my year-long writing project, still maintaining my one page per day. I started January 1st and it's now the 20th of August; I have written 300 odd pages with an abundance of blood, sweat, tears, laughter, frustration, joy, and inspiration. I owe it all to a few select people, they know who they are, and I owe it to myself, for pressing on, for putting in the work. It's an extraordinary journey, I love these characters, I love peeking in on their lives, and I love that I was the one chosen to help them tell their story to the world. Mind you, so far, there's only one friendly reader who is invested. I don't know the rest of world will ever read it but it is my hope. 

I wrote today's page while listening to a radio station from Freddy Town, NB. They are playing the Tragically Hip's discography, commercial free, as it's the one year anniversary of their last show in Kingston, ON. It is fitting since my protagonist is a huge Hip fan, as am I. Her kitty's name is Gord Downie Cat. Go figure.

In today's page, Sillyheart attends a 'poetry in the park' event planned and hosted by a her charming and unavailable crush, Elias Silver. This is the poem she reads on one of the open mic stages:

Begging Bowl

silver penned poets

convene around the

begging bowl with

their small habits

their serious hopes 

awaken the belated

defeat of innocence

through the nibs of

their sad ball-points

cautious engineers

construct a tangle

of inspired queries

until the sun clouds

over and the moon

rises high overhead

silver penned poets

assemble around the

begging bowl with

beckoning powers

their timeworn rites

their staid faiths &

volume of gladness

delivered outward

to reach the broken

hearted hangers-on

to heal & reconcile

***

The most amazing thing about this whole project is when I feel the extremes of loneliness in my daily life, they rescue me from it. It's one of writing's super powers. The same can be said for reading a book. Art is everything. 

In propinquity,

Nic

Wolf River Harbor

I have been absent from blogging but for good reason. Back in late December, a friend asked me to join her for a writing challenge, to write a page a day in January. I immediately accepted because my creativity had been suffering and my production was sporadic at the time. A challenge was welcome. When it came time to begin. I woke up to an idea. I would write a journal-style story for the month. I started it and it felt foreign, that here I was, writing a fictional journal of some girl I didn't even know. That soon changed. As the writing progressed, more was revealed and I felt myself feeling excited to arrive at the page each day. I hasn't let up. Here it is the end of February and it's still going strong. After a good conversation with my big sister, I turned the writing challenge up to eleven and decided to do a page a day for the whole of 2017. I mean, a page a day for a whole year is book-length, right? 

I am having so much fun with it. I bought myself a 2017 daily planner to keep track of details, new characters and such. I have committed to this, one hundred percent. I have one friendly reader whose opinion matters to me, she is my springboard, and I am grateful that she is sharing in it with me, especially to talk out story points with. I trust her and it's been an incredible help for staying on track. I've missed a few days due to illness and because some days life just gets in the way but it's okay because I'm ahead of myself in the story. There are times when I have to tell myself to show the heck down and not get too carried away. 

I am grateful my fellow creative posed this challenge because look how it has already transformed my year! This writing is a blessing, it was much needed, it is saving me from despair. It's keeping me sane.

One of the last entries I wrote was about Jeff Buckley. She wrote a poem about him so I wanted to share it here:

Wolf River Harbor

swimming at night

a Prophet’s lantern pulled him under

in search of his sweetheart the drunk

water-worn wild & fragile  

his high falsetto swelled in the waves

            the sweetest song

was never written with us in mind

            a voice to die for

his whole life a performance poem

             says his last goodbye

with an apologetic laugh buoyed

beneath starry midnight

the placid waters humming around

his arms

his legs

his hair

and his eyes

descending to the bottom

in slow motion

the Prophet extinguishes his lamp light

            as the song slows       

                                    and the poet knows

his body is on its own

            in Wolf River Harbor

but his soul     

            gathers the shape of things

both broken and holy

***

Time to finish the entry I started, prepare for another work week and settle in for a bit of Oscar fun before hitting the pillow. It's safe to say I'll be falling asleep spinning Jeff's 'Grace' record. 

However you spent your weekend, I hope it was peaceful.

In propinquity,

Nic

Gifted

I spent a rainy Saturday afternoon in October creating these gifts for my dear-hearts in the West. My Halloween party was that evening but the rain kept me close to home so I took advantage of the down-time to make something, collage art, for my pals. I decided it might be fun to create something for them this year, a little something specific to each of them that has a little part of me included.

For Ruthie, I created a collage of Sting's lyrics. She has long been a fan of him as a writer and a rocker and I thought it appropriate for her. I had a lot of fun making it, listening to a collection of Police/Sting. It was a killer playlist. Her collage has clean lines and when I started making it I realized Sting often repeated lines so they made for perfect chunks to create the collage. Thanks, Sting.

For Terri, I looked to Thich Nhat Hanh. I made her's a 5x7 size, something she could easily set on her work desk, as a reminder that she is loved and that life is for the lovely, should she ever have those days she just isn't sure. This one was fun to make because as I was snipping and gluing and piecing things together a small poem formulated from some of the things I was amassing. It is hard to see so you can read it below; a poem written by me and Thich Nhat Hanh, just for my sweet friend.

You Are Here

do not 

turn yourself 

into a battlefield

each human being

is a multiplicity

life bursts forth 

with miracles - a glass

miracles everywhere

if you live in awareness

it is easy to see

a speck of dust

a heart that beats in rhythm

ears that hear a bee fly

a ray of sunshine

a flower

a leaf

a caterpillar

laughter

raindrops

or a thunderclap

become your best - 

calm, fresh, solid, clear and free

you just enjoy it

**

In propinquity,
Nic