Artistic Snafu

Artistic Snafu 

while you are in the process of

revising your bloated masterpiece

I will ponder your deliberate 

choice to avoid a dramatic ending 

you will resort to arbitrary criticism

of my delicate unabashed poetics

that have been earnestly delegated to 

piece together your splintered patience

I would happily congratulate you

on your rich fictional histories

but it is a commonplace error 

for an admirable reader to prolong

false & undeserving accolades

it is an artistic snafu

what I can accomplish in 4 or 5 sentences

takes you more than 600 long-winded pages

your melodrama is palatable

but my prose is a world of passion

you reveal yourself with great reluctance

it hinders your almost extinct sincerity 

but 

I am a bestseller & open to interpretation

you are a faunt of envy

of this

to others

I say nothing

**

Moral?  Envy, jealousy, boastfulness get you nowhere.  But, confidence, belief and hard work do.  Just my few cents worth.  This applies to any facet of life, art and work.

After finishing 'Hardscrabble' I wasn't sure anything new would materialize in the way of story ideas.  I went a few days resting my noodle, watching TV, reading a little and being otherwise casual.  I was eating dinner at a friend's house, grilled cheese and soup, when an idea formulated.  The working title, which I really like, is 'Large-Hearted'.  I've only written the first paragraph, a small paragraph mind you but it is brewing.  The only way I can really describe it, as of the idea I have now, is that it is a story within a story.  I'll know more when the characters fill me in.  

Nothing else going on in my little world right now.  I started watching S3 'Game of Thrones' last night.  I thought I'd better catch up since everyone has been going postal about the 'Red Wedding' episode.  I haven't read the books so the event won't come as a complete shock to me but I have been avoiding most of the spoilers.  Oy. 

I also watched S1 of 'Smash', the now canceled series from NBC starring Debra Messing about live theatre/Broadway in New York City.  I LOVE this show, a musical, complete with musical numbers and high drama.  S2 comes out on DVD in August.  I can't wait!  I wasn't sure I'd like it but I ended up loving it. Something light-hearted and fun and something to get me over my '30 Rock' hangover.  Excited that 'True Blood' and 'Dexter' are starting this month.  Holy cow, it's JUNE!

Happy hump day, folks.

In propinquity,

Nic

When I Was Mad About Him

Have I ever mentioned how much I love Sundays?  The lazy sleep-in, the brunch, tea, sometimes a bit of TV or writing or reading, sometimes a combination.  The not having to rush out of your jammies, taking your time, easing into the day.  Sundays rule in my kingdom.  The only down-side is that Monday follows, the beginning of another mundane work week.  If I wasn't a writer or seduced by all art forms, daily life would be a bore.  I feel for those who don't read or take in plays or dare I say it, watch (quality) TV.  There's a richness to be derived from it.  Life without art would be darkness.

I took my time rising this morning.  Did a little bit of in bed daydreaming, finished the enclosed poem and then ventured to enjoy some quality time with Erica and Autumn.  I started reading the book I bought yesterday so the rest of my day will be comprised of tucking into that and doing laundry to prepare for a new week.  I have also resolved that tomorrow I am starting back at the gym and getting back to the business of healthier living.  All of those things only make my creative self and spiritual self that much better. 

I leave you with the today's completed poem.  And yes, I used a photo of Charlie Hunnam of 'Sons of Anarchy' fame because ... well ... the image just suited the language of the poem.

When I Was Mad About Him

when I was mad about him

I followed masculine curves

& wrote inaccurate poems

surmised beyond his gaze

I lost whole days

I lost whole nights

when I was mad about him

despite all error I dwelled

in inexpressibe pleasures

something aggressive about flesh

I earned burgeoning sensuality

I earned romantic impulses

when I was mad about him

I used to pretend I was blind

to fully taste the intensities

& carnage of our seamless unity

I misplaced logic for a startling thrill

I misplaced courtesy for desire

when I was mad about him

consumed fully by the act of love

dancing slowly into one another

I couldn’t hear time slipping away

when I was mad about him

I was out of my own mind

**

Off to read.  Happy Sunday to you.

In propinquity,
Nic

Cup Of Light

It's a perfect Sunday.  It started with a delicious birthday brunch with my dear friend Sherrie.  We are both December babies so we decided this year to do a brunch together to celebrate being alive and the comforts of friendship over a decadent meal.  We dined at The Vines in Dartmouth, most noted for their Italian fare but also for their Sunday brunch.  The atmosphere was cozy and food was fabulous.  We talked over coffee, laughed while enjoying the ambrosia of culinary delights and posed thankful over a sinful bit of dessert.  We exchanged gifts and gratitude.  So lovely.  My friends truly are my estate.

It is also a perfect Sunday because it is a rare day to be at home alone.  I busied myself with a few domestic tasks and now I am parked next to a sunny window, with a cool breeze sneaking in.  The air around me is full of the sweet sounds of Matt Epp's voice and the fragrance of tea, Santa's Secret from David's Tea, one of the few teas Erica gave to me for my birthday.  And of course, with all of these beautiful elements, I finished editing my latest poetry offering, 'Cup Of Light'.  I also started working on another new piece.  You can't hope for better than days like today.

Cup of Light

when a word is beautiful

written on a piece of paper

folded up inside of a book

effervescent fonts surge in

a gentle stream of grace

from the protective pages

when discovered

& is approximate to a

cup of immaculate light

scribes leave tiny traces

words laid down safely

& some expire without ever

being passionately admired

when a word is bountiful

shrouded in the pall of privacy

secretly stashed away in shelves

full of soldier straight volumes

it longs for unbridled sovereignty

to respire

to delineate

to irradiate

a cup of magnificent illumination

one perfect word

one impeccable light

**

I will spend the rest of my afternoon working in something new, working away at a mountain of laundry I've been ignoring.  And perhaps a little bit of TV for company while I put the finishing touches on the Christmas tree.  It was decorated yesterday afternoon but still needs the icicles.  I have some catching up to do on my favorite shows so it's a possible plan but not before poetry!  Writing comes first.

Wherever your weekend took you, I hope you were among friends and you were smiling.

I'll see you on the flip-side, friendly readers.

In propinquity,

Nic