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 Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
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I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance? I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them. Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog. |
| I mentioned to someone the other day that if I didn't seek out the information, I could go all day without knowing if it was sunny or cloudy or whether it was night or day. I like to cover windows for privacy. But a window they can't see into, is a window I can't see out of. And then I was looking for something to write about and came across this prompt from "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT "  :WRITE A POEM ABOUT SOMETHING YOU AREN’T SURE OF The two concepts seemed to go together, especially for an indoor writer, thus: The Cloistered Life The sun may be rising or it may be that sunset will fall. I don’t know if it’s raining, Or if leaves have started to fall. Though I cannot see, I think (but could not to it swear) that beyond the shaded windows the world is still out there. |
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As usual your poetry is always a pleasure to read.
