blog analysis

I have realised that inspiration to write here comes from one of the following situations: being in the presence of natural beauty, music, some unhappiness in my life, boredom. 

There are barely other situations when I find myself here, wanting to write. I have been guided by the resolution to write here every day at some point in the past and continue to do this from time to time. But, my writing itself is most often on the above topics. Why so? Am I deeply affected by these, find them the only topics worth writing about, do I lack imagination that causes me to never move away from these topics/factors?

Princess is in another castle

I am writing to you my love,
To tell you what I know you want to hear
You have been here before
You have been through this
You will be back here again
Your nemesis will strike you this way
Again and you will overcome again
Because that is the cycle
That you could break
But it will mutate
And come back for you again
You will level up!
get through the next level too
Where you will find that what you need to find,
is out to find you too.

Firsts

Firsts are mostly memorable. My first journey by aircraft is so deeply etched in my memory, while more recent journeys have faded so much so that I have difficulty in even accepting that they happened. Some things are precious and worth holding on to. But that's the way it is, two-edged sword that will make sure you cannot let go of those early, messy happenings just because they were first.

A weird sensation

From the corner of my eye I see an object on my desk. It's something like a paper or a pen or sometimes a notebook. As I watch whatever I am looking straight at, the object just outside my direct gaze grows in size.  A two dimensional object gains a third dimension.  It feels like a cartoon-happening. Sometimes it makes me dizzy. Sometimes it is like a head rush. It is impossible to explain. Hard to describe as you can see.

Resolutions

A life that's spent in a way that barely leaves a mark on the mind of the one doing the living. I write with the intention of being able to remember this day and this feeling.  But what I end up creating is a series of meaningless posts on a series of forgettable events.  As an experiment I will try to do something for each day of the rest of the week that will first be  contributions to my self worth.

No metaphors, I promise

A thick fog blinds me and I cannot see the road right in front of me. But I look up and see blue, brilliant sky. What sorcery is this?

Loving myself

To love and respect, to be proud and happy, to be contented with myself. A journey that seems impossibly hard and unlikely to be completed ever. Still, being on the road feels incredibly great.

Journey to the past

Whiffs of the past
Hidden in the unlikeliest places
A journey into the past
To find someone who I used to be

Spreading joy

Why wouldn't you be the reason for someone's smile, pride, happiness, contentment, love, sunshine, wonder, joy? Why would you not try to be?

synonyms

Change
Transform
Metamorphose
Mutate
Evolve
Grow
Transcend
Rejuvenate
Be reborn
Reform

But

"But I received a raw deal and deserve to be treated better"
You can't make demands anymore.
"But I was at the receiving end of this unfairness
You don't have any rights to ask for anything.
"But didn't it mean anything at all?"
It belongs in the past.
"But I didn't want it to end"
Too bad. It did.
"But, I want things my way"
Everyone does.

The Knife

The knife hangs over my head and I slave away worrying about when it will drop. I sneak a peak at it to see how high or low it hangs. It is lost in a haze, I can barely make out an outline. Did it just catch some light and gleam menacingly? I can't see it but I feel it there. My mind runs scenarios of where it could be. Would it hurt if it were lower? or higher? Would I know that it was coming for me? Or would it be lightning quick and clean? When and how crowd my mind. But why doesn't cross it.

Plots and Plans

Pretty pictures on the screen
Mental gymnastics over what they mean
Difficult stuff? Or am I just green?

Comfort food

A series of  sweetmeats
A substitute for affection
Gets the job done

Infinite sleep

 I sleep as though time were infinite, in an effort to stem those thoughts that will cause sleepless nights. I wish them all away by drifting deep into worlds that could have been.

You didn't stop

Stop before you let those words escape
Stop and we can pretend it never was
Stop

You couldn't stop it
Couldn't stop the words
Couldn't stop the storm that followed

Sick

Sneeze and the room shakes
The coffee jug in my hand shakes
Colleague 's sympathetic head-shakes

Snow trip

Gracefully she spreads her wings amd swoops toward the earth. Then she changes course rushes back trying to reach for the skies. Is she trying to dodge snow flakes as they flutter slowly to the ground? Shake them off her plumage? Maybe she is trying to warm herself through the exercise.
I prefer to think she's just enjoying herself in the snow. Celebrating drops of prettiness that are transforming the landscape and she gets to watch that change as she swoops in and out of the sky. Did she just let out a caw of happiness?

Dawn

I peer through the darkness
But darkness seems to run away from me
I reach out fervently
But it's long gone before I've time to see
I only want the coolness of inky blue
To wrap me up in an icy embrace
But all I do is send the dark away
It's because of this glow that emanates
From me
I am Dawn; Night can never be with me

Back to blog

A return to an old home
I come back and am welcomed
With arms that are invisible
But I am convinced they are open
I dive right in without hesitation
Sensations of being welcome
Freedom to be myself
The comfort of luxurious down beds

Metaphors

My bottle is emptying quicker than I had realized. I desperately reach out to save some and end up speeding up the spill.

Blinking haiku

Lights blinking in the distance
Meaningless as Morse
But serve as a metronome

Overshare

I overshare
I fill the silence with a volley of words that I can't seem to contain
When it's all out there
That's when I realize, repent, and relive that pain
over and over and over again.

Alone

Alone I create
Does solitude inspire?
Is it just the lack of sound
That ignites my need to write?
Boredom arising from the absence
of any other in the room?