Let’s See Where This Goes

An exercise in free writing and a needed outlet.

It’s so easy to give out the pieces
Of a heart worn on one’s sleeve
You can’t cover it up
The outline is too obvious
Generosity is confused for weakness
Trust mistaken for being naive

Still, I’d rather believe than be cynical
Fill missing pieces with patches
And have hope that there is something
Hopefully better
But something

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Journal Writing, Four Years in the Making

While in Morehead to watch Morehead State’s production of Evil Dead: the Musical, my friend Adam helped me decide on the purchase of a new journal.  Now, it should be stated that I am a sucker for journals.  I have the romantic notion that I will use each journal I buy to tell the story of my life from the first moment pen touches paper.  What usually happens is that I write about is affecting me – failing relationship, fear of failure, changing jobs, moving – to the point that I just cannot handle the sadness and I stop.  Journals, as I have been using them, have not been the saving grace I have hoped for.  Even so, that doesn’t diminish my faith in their idea or the possibilities they hold for me.

Mine looks like the one on the right. No, your other right.  There you go....

Mine looks like the one on the right. No, your other right. There you go….

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Order of the Autumn Battle

For once, Labor Day has heralded not only the traditional end of summer but also the meteorologic beginning of fall here in the Bluegrass. Usually, the summer burns right on through the holiday weekend into the later weeks in September and the 100 degree highs of Saturday gave no indication to the contrary. Abruptly, however, fall decided summer had had enough fun in the sun and made it’s presence known flaunting 60 degree highs and a Seattle-esque drizzle here to stay for the week.

One of my favorite escapes when I lived at home in my first semester of college was to walk a trail back behind the once tobacco fields, into the woods, and across a mini ridge to a point overlooking a valley to the next ridge top. I used to walk it for exercise, for my dog Josie’s companionship, for the isolation of the lichen bed, or the thought-drowning locusts. I only shared the area with those who really mattered. It was in the persistent heat sitting in the moss that I wrote this poem eight years ago.

Order of the Autumn Battle

I made the pilgrimage with pagan’s eyes
Four days before the Harvest Moon.
Bore the scourges and lances of the gauntlet path
In bloody homage to forest sprites.
Perched on a point in the arms of a martyr,
I took vigil and waited for the answer tides to come.
Drunk on sacred fumes
Of fermenting past,
I heard the Priests’ whispers:
Rumors of defrocment
Passed down by sky of primal ochre hue.
An oath swore by all, united
To don the warrior dress
Cast off the demure greens
In defiance and in favor
Of the scarlet-yellow
Tunics of the Golden War to come.
Amid the battle cry of locust drums,
I stole east to tamer lands
As the blood spilled at my back.

Printed in Inscape 2007

One of the original blog challenges we considered for the Errant Easel project was to post two works from the past, one of which you were still proud and one of which you weren’t. I immediately thought of this poem for my pride piece. However, on review of the material with eyes nearly a decade more well-read, I see the weakness in the poem end, the lack of actual development, the awkwardness of the last line and a lot of awkward grammar. And I posted it here anyway. One of the hardest things for me to get comfortable with sharing on this blog is my writing. So what if I can’t paint a photorealistic flower, I’m not a painter. But if I can’t write exactly what I mean and evoke the appropriate emotion from the audience then I feel the failure much more acutely, because if I have any creative strengths they are granted by the pen. However, If I refuse to write, paint or experiment for fear of imperfection, I’m never going to get anything done. So there, if I can post this, I can post almost anything. May the writing commence and the anxiety subside with practice!