Other People's Poetry

Sometimes it's hits you harder than your own words could.

She Walks in Beauty

By Lord Byron (George Gordon)

 

She walks in beauty, like the night

   Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

   Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

   Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

   Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

   Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

   How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

   So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

   But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

   A heart whose love is innocent!

Crimson Wave and Good Ol' Aunt Flow

When they say "riding the crimson wave" I have to laugh.  It reminds me of the wakes in water after a boat has gone by.  Gently pushing you where you need to go.
For me the metaphor means something quite more grandiose.  Gigantic breaking waves, breaking me.
I will not be one of the masses who thinks her flow is a curse.  It's absence has been too pervasive to my being.  I need it to cleanse me.  I need it to prove that I still function as a maiden or mother.
But the great "Aunt Flow", she stays away too long.  Then she comes into my home with a great swinging of the door.  Crashing into the coat rack.  Then carrying her baggage, which is my baggage, she tramples through my home like an elephant knocking everything over and yelling about how she's sorry she's late.  She spills the boiling water on the stove.  She breaks the lamp with her gigantic purse as she swings around looking for only God knows what.  And I'm left standing there, mouth agape.  I love her but lord only knows what I can do with her.  I try to focus on just being so grateful that she's here with me finally.  But she leaves me beaten down, exhausted.  She ties me to the earth, she just needs to stop tying me to the tracks.
By the end of her visit I am battered and bruised and for a moment, grateful that it she will likely be late next time too.  I need the time to recover.  Do you think she'll notice if I spend half of her visit in the tub, with a strong drink and a cold compress on my head?  I promise to feign a smile, "Auntie, I'm so glad you're here."  And I am, but that smile?  It's forced.

Blog Prompt - Beautiful

from http://www.kludgymom.com/idea-bank/

12. Write about a time you felt beautiful.

Vacation

A friend gave me an assignment.  Write about somewhere you'd love to be for vacation with the specific instruction to really make her feel like she's there.  I thought at I'd write about some sort of sandy beach, warm weather and clear water.  That's where I'd love to vacation but I don't have a lot to reference as I've never been there.  Just seen the photos.  Maybe I'll do something with that one eventually, but for now?  I'll go a different direction.  I will have plenty I will be writing in first person so for now I'll dip into 3rd...

Tiny Test  - Chapter 1

In the Beginning.....

I love writing.  I always have.  It's something that has always had a presence in the back of my mind.  It's been this little voice occasionally making itself known.  "Later," is always what I told it.  "I'll have time for you later."

Too much has gone on in my life (as it does in everyone's) to always put it off.  If not now, when?  So I decided to create this blog as just a way to practice my skill and stretch me in ways I'm not used to.  I'm hoping to come up with some of my own ideas but for a while I will mostly be using writing prompts.  I figure writing prompts will take me where I never intended to go.  There can be a lot of fun and challenges when you're letting someone else start the journey.  Poetry, fiction, nonfiction, biographical.. I hope to do a bit of it all.  I'm excited and nervous.  What if I suck? *shrug* I kind of have to say, "Who cares?"  

So here we go.....