Author: Sysadmin

A poem

“One” by yours truly

Now one meal per day.
What can I say?

How long does it take to heal?
And is this for real?

Just about windstorms today

They can get quite severe here, and while it is not exactly cold at this time of year, the wind can make it rather chilly.

The sound of strong winds can also be spooky. I have written before about “‘pathetic fallacy” –the idea that your idea your weather or environment affect individual mentality.

I think they can. There are ghosts, and sometimes they return through weather/environments.

A poem

“New” by yours truly

New real.
Congeal.
Feel what you feel.
Down at heel?
Then eat a meal
But try to heal
And stop the spiel.

A poem

“Out” by yours truly

My pen hath gone out of ink,
And the blank page could make you blink,
But I still think what I think.
I don’t mind if you wink.
If you come to my bar, I’ll buy you a drink.

On progress

Making decent progress on a new novella manuscript. Creativity is kind of mysterious to me. Sometimes it is bald memory. Sometimes imagination takes over though.

This novella is about a romantic couple. I have not had a relationship with a woman of more than about two years. So writing requires imagination, and it may not be realistic, But sometimes actual absence of a loved person can transform into creative art.

I hope to have the story published later this year.

Some general comments and two new, brief poems

It’s kind of amazing how strong wind storms can get in Santa Fe, NM. The sounds of the wind can get very loud and spooky, and I find it necessary to wear a heavy coat outside even in late April.

I had in mind today a poem by Emily Dickinson contrasting household chores with a bomb suddenly going off in the house. Instead just two of my own new poems.

“Eyeliner” by yours truly

I wear eyeliner, maybe because I am a liar.

Men are shocked when I am really a man.

Whatever. I do what I can.

“Blurred” by yours truly

Blurred the line.

What’s yours is not mine.

Su casa not mi casa.

And I am not your master.

This has been a disaster.

 

On Easter

Just watched Easter Sunday Mass. Something  occurred to me. Parishioners seemed to have been allowed back into the audience in full  (after the virus lockdown), and the babies were crying loudly at the start.

Is there something about the actual service that calms them? They stopped crying out after the first few minutes. It seemed like a correspondence between the pain of early life and the pain of Jesus on cross in the background.

It is so difficult to achieve calm, whether a baby or an adult.

 

“Forgotten” by yours truly

Had an idea for a poem,

But now it’s forgotten.

You can see the spot in,

And think me rotten,

On organization

I have trouble keeping clean and collected. Sometimes it is difficult to find things.

My study is very messy now. My Dad got so mad at me when I was a teenager about my messy bedroom that I feared for his health.

But the old saw is true: “cleanliness is next to Godliness.” Are maids really nuns?

On a new novella idea and three new poems

Have a gestating idea for a novella about a May-December romance. I don’t think there is anything necessarily wrong about them.

Three poems

“Time” by yours truly

“How long do you like sex?”

“Ten years.”

“I might want more, but anyway I was referring to hours or maybe even just minutes at a time.

What else is there? Beers?”

“Me fears I would just prefer tears.”

“Mask” by yours truly

“What do you think of the mask mandate?”

“Masque dances seem rather decadent at this time of my life, and if I might go to one, it would not be on a date with a man.”

“Border”  by yours truly

“What do you think of open-border policy?”

“Sorry, I am open to the idea I bored her.”

“So sad and boring.”

“So,”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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