Day 243: Morning After

Had a wonderful evening with family last night at one of our favorite restaurants. It’s BYOB and we may have had a tiny bit more to drink than intended. At least me and my bride both did! Oops.

Morning After

Day 235: Disconnect and Dance

Writing this poem this morning while sitting across from my bride as soft music plays. Hard not to get a little romantic.

Disconnect and Dance

Day 134; Salty Dog

My bride and I got up early this morning and drove to one of the more secluded stretches of beach with our dog to watch the sunrise. It’s hard to say which of the three of us enjoyed the experience more.

Salty Dog

Day 127: To Be Diurnal

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 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 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 187: My Bride Paints Octopuses

Fun fact, in English the plural form of octopus is octopuses, octopodes is the old Greek plural, and octopi is simply incorrect all around unless you yourself are an octopus because it’s inclusive. There’s your random bit of trivia for the day!

My bride is an artist. A pretty darn good one in my opinion. We’re both animal lovers but I’ve got a passion for weird and wonderful creatures. Octopuses have been something of a running joke with us that’s now transcended humor to become a symbol of happiness for us. Once we decided to move to an island my bride painted an octopus. It hangs on the wall of our living room. Our conversation this morning over breakfast and coffee turned to the painting and the others around it. She thinks of octopuses when she thinks of me and is painting. I’m flattered.

Her painting is the header image for this post.

My Bride Paints Octopuses