Hear My Heart Trumpet

Hear My Heart Trumpet

overlook pages of dis-assembled scribbles

erase literal interpretations of daily deeds

hear my heart trumpet

announcing a sequence of graceful commands

advising a pocketful of stunning photos to dance

hear my heat trumpet

for tiny miracles independent of my original story

for immaculate heavy-lidded choreographies splaying

hear my heart trumpet hear its discourse hear its song

hear my heart trumpet a steady poetic meter

a salute

prepared to pursue the path of reasonable compromise

with someone who is much less suitable to the cause

my heart trumpets

for change

for sameness

for shelter

for dancing

for dreaming

hear my heart trumpet

**

Joyful moments (since Thursday) in point form:

-       my book buying adventure on Thursday (I bought ‘1982’ by Jian Ghomesi, ‘Homing’ by Stephanie Domet and ‘Mr. Penumbra’s 24 Hour Bookstore’)

-       yummy dinner and edits at The Carleton and encountering my Grade 5 teacher, Mrs. MacKenzie

-       arriving home to a package waiting for me from my dear friend Elspeth and inside was her novel ‘Sole’ (on sale now at Amazon.com)

-       making a tattoo appointment to finally fix and complete the only ink I will ever have

-       curling up in a rain storm with blankets and pillows with movies and tea after a long Friday

-       seeing my dear friend try on her wedding dress for the first time

-       spending the whole day browsing for bridesmaid dresses with her

-       hanging out with my mom and talking to her

-       watching Eat Pray Love

-       sleeping in

-       enjoying a coffee and the sunshine with my best friend on the Halifax Commons

-       visiting my dear friend Sharon on her birthday

-       writing the enclosed poem while listening to the new Civil Wars record

-       new sheets fresh out of the dryer to rest in on a Sunday before a Monday

-       daydreaming

-       praying

-       counting blessings

-       text messages that make me laugh outloud

Happy Sunday.  Back to work tomorrow, one long week before Word On The Street.  And, I hope to have a good deal more written on ‘Too Much To Contain’ before then.  Fingers crossed.

In propinquity,

Nic

How To Write Good

I saw this the other day and saved it to share here.  After reading, 'avoid alliteration always' I busted a gut and couldn't stop. I'm still plugging away at my projects and writing poems while managing daily life and other sundry affairs.  I keep conjuring up humorous tidbits to throw in 'Other Pearls' (which is Binnie Blessing's story and partly my story).  They are adding up but the trick will be fitting them in their proper place.  I am still a little unnerved by the fact that I'm not writing pages of story and still jotting but I'm still being creative, thinking and feeling, listening and observing.  Those things still count.  I've also been blessed with another bit of Ruthie's prose to read.  I hope to find time this weekend for reading that and doing some serious writing.  Oh, and I still haven't tried the haiku I threatened to write.  Maybe I'll do that tonight.  

Short and sweet today.  Like me.  Be good.

In propinquity,

Nic

Sad End For A Writer

Sad End For A Writer

I believed you

emphatically

my synonym for beauty

in the present moment

when you openly professed

the intrinsic phases of poetry

evident through a summary

of sated spiritual upsurge

a veritable deluge of exactitude

so peculiar and incongruous

for your character to concede to

such an inspiring blithe explanation

that in response

I ceased a shrugging dismissal to

your dubious aggrandized anecdotes

I trusted you

haphazardly

my synonym for contentment

in the instantaneous past tense

I tended your

fragile heart

w/ quiet care

revolved around

your hours

w/ compassion

when you shed

your armor

leveled my field

& we settled into

that palpable

space in between

truth & lies

black & white

feast & famine

& then pretense

invaded the calm

I annulled our amalgamation

my antonym for abundance

disengaged our composition

my antonym for affection

all of your contradictions

have been redeemed

all of the words in your

failed language expired

a sad end

for a writer

in love

**

This week and crawling by after a great few days away from the norm.  I have Thursday's reading with the Open Heart Forgery gang to look forward to though.  The new issue is being released and I am happy to report that 'Aubade' will be included.  It's getting colder here now, with Winter looming.  I'm not a fan of snow and I hear the white stuff will fly sometime between tomorrow and Sunday.  Barf.  I was born in the wrong climate.

A little poetry for a sleepy Tuesday, hope you enjoyed.

In propinquity,

Nic