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January 26, 2007
I live
The sun extends, no matter how far, there is light, though the cold cuts trough, the streets, isolated and empty, there are lights burning inside the houses beyond the bare trees. There is seclusion and submission in winter, loneliness and calm. Its the season of apprehensions and long hours.
Faces appear behind the windows as the warmth inside steams the glass. we have learned to survive, and separate ourselves from the cold and wait. we sit closer, we whisper and wait. till the earth rotates once more
extentending us, flowing within time to another season.
I look at my watch, going somewhere, we are always going somewhere, between here and there, sliding, pushing,
hurling, in transit, going somewhere. There are things to do, places to go, schedules to keep, appointments to hold
as the day shies away, taken for granted, ignored, it slips away, pushed, hurled, gone.
I keep my face on, trim my beards, exercise my eyes, touch my skin, run my finger trough my hair, looking in the mirror, I smile, mornings I sing, I sing loud, words I know, words, one after another, just an effort to stand more erect, to look further, reaching the notes in my throat, I am still here after my hybernation, I am still here, and i follow the day, not thinking, I do not allow the thoughts, I ignore them, and breathe, allowing the air in. I dress simple, it does so much for my presentation , it does so much for my eyes.
Ans i hear how my heart sings, I love too much - my down fall, I see too much, and hear much too much, I am losing
my skin everyday, I am bare, exposed, vulnerable, and my heart has moved outside my chest, outside my soft bones and exposed flesh. i laugh too hard, cry easy, and love much too much, but the joy, the joy of living on this
lonely planet amongst the crowded faces of every sidewalk and isolation of every fields and hills. I stand by the trees and smile, seeing the life that runs in every vessels, branches and leaves. I pray long and ask for much, much too much.
And then I sit for tea in long afternoons, read,
I am taken away, and back,
I live.
Posted by Idinraha at 04:06 PM | Comments (0)
January 11, 2007
I whispear
It seems even if I wispear it would echoe in here, But it is home and its good. I call it accidental living, and more than ever what has happened in the last few month has proven to me how insifnicant our existance is in life. I say it in a very positive way, i say it knowing and sober. Things change and how we live through the changes shows your metal.
I haven't been writing much, I mean poetry, I had an article published in a local magazine, and just recieved fhe notice that another more comprehensive piece I have written has been accepted as a feature for next month in
Weston Magazine. As I have told Choob, it is a kick in the head, Living and working though takes most of times.
This morning I was reviewing some of the poems I had written before the dry spell. I am so happy that I don't throw them away, most of them look very promissing, eh, I enjoyed reading them againg, it is somehow like visiting an old friend to find out they look much better than you remembered. I cleaned a few out, tinkered with them, smoothed the edges and posted them on the new Poets.com site. I already recieved a fine review for the one I posted last night. You know it is rewarding, acclamation never get old and tiring, and somehow they inspire you
to do more.
So, I think I am back to do more!!
Posted by Idinraha at 01:17 PM | Comments (0)