Today’s poem brought to you by the combination of an early morning with the inspiration of a blank page next to yesterday’s poem. The symmetry simply appealed to my muse.
To Be Diurnal
Day 126: To Be Nocturnal
And we’re back to our regularly scheduled poetry!
My part time job as of late has had me staying up later than I’m used to and as a result sleeping in later than I would like to compensate. It’s a trade, as so many things are. Worthwhile so long as it’s in the pursuit of turning a dream into reality.
To Be Nocturnal
Day 124 & Day 125: Stranger’s Embrace, Winding Roads
Today and yesterday’s poems! I figured another two-fer would be better than a three-fer.
Stranger‘s Embrace
Winding Roads
Day 122 & Day 123: A Sunset and Indigestion, Intestinal Rebellion
I’ll allow yesterday’s and the day before’ poems to explain my recent silence.
One definite bright spot amidst all this–I am so glad I was home for this, if for no other reason than because I was able to enjoy a gorgeous waterside sunset with my bride from the comfort of our bedroom. The image heading this post was actually the view from our window.
Sunset and Indigestion
Intestinal Rebellion
Day 120: A Puppy with a Rag
I often heard my father pray to God growing up that God would make him “like a puppy with a rag.” Overcome by joy in the simplest things.
A Puppy with a Rag
Day 119: Open
Yesterday when I was writing at one of my favorite coffee shops on the island (and one my my favorite places in general) I noticed an open journal on a coffee table. The journal itself was a work of art, but what truly made it special we’re the contents. I’d never stoop to reading someone else’s personal journal without their blessing, however, with the pages open I caught a glimpse of detailed sketches and painstakingly written notes that were simply breathtaking. I rarely keep nice notebooks because rarely are my own notes and art anywhere near nice. In a way I don’t feel like my chicken scratch is worthy of the journal. This young woman’s was. Beyond any shadow of a doubt.
Open
Day 118: Galveston, Home
My bride and I have been down in Galveston now for a little over half a year and we love it here. I found myself reflecting on that this morning and let that become the basis for today’s poem.
As an aside, we took some family member to the Galveston Art Walk this weekend. The first exhibit we walked in to was called “Cat Butt Parfait.” I’ll leave it to your imagination exactly what it contained. My parent’s reaction? Priceless.
Galveston, Home
Day 115 and Day 117; Brain (Not) Dead, Cannot Connect
Another double post today. Sunday I was too brain dead to do more than jot down my poem when I was struck by a sudden and quick burst of inspiration. Honestly I’ve no idea how I wrote it because I was such a gibberish mess by Sunday afternoon I could barely string a sentence together (just ask my bride). That condition is actually what inspired that day’s poem.
Brain (Not) Dead
And I completely dropped the ball yesterday. No poem. Travel, Fatigue, and general procrastination defeated me. BUT I have today’s poem right here. This one brought to you by a misbehaving internet connection.
Cannot Connect
Day 113 & 114: Storm in a Bottle, Good Dog’s Good Day
Another double post. Got yesterday’s poem written in my notebook but didn’t have the chance to share it. So here is that poem first, followed by today’s.
Sometimes we have an utterly irrational emotion overcome us. It’s a humbling experience because we know it’s irrational and it doesn’t change a thing. In fact, the knowing serves to exacerbate the problem by creating a feeling of helplessness. Art, poetry, writing, these are the tools of release and catharsis and they work wonders.
Storm in a Bottle
My dog has had an absolutely wonderful day today and only needs one thing to make it complete. Pretty sure he’s going to get it.
Good Dog’s Good Day
Day 112: Tropical Storm Barry
First potential tropical storm coming our way since we moved to the island. Naturally it’s the weekend we’ve got family coming down to visit. Oh well. Should be an interesting experience and one I intend to make the best of and have some fun.
Tropical Storm Barry
The Everyday Poet 