2/13/20: Untitled

Mixing up my formatting today. Think I may be doing it this was going forward.

Started off the day in one of those nasty funks we all sometimes get into. This poem marked the start of a turning point in my day, written during my lunch break, almost like I was writing it to motivate myself as much as anything else. It worked.

Untitled

Day 300 & Day 301: Drizzle; Numbers and Noise

Yesterday’s poem written before a long drive through some yucky weather. Too heavy to be called mist, too light to be called rain. Just wet enough to make the roads fun to drive on and seep into everything.

Drizzle

This morning’s poem brought to you from that “I don’t know where this is coming from” part of my mind. I’m honestly not sure if it’s a form of insight or simply my attempt to process everything that’s going on lately in the world. There just seems to be so much…

Numbers and Noise

Day 235: Animal Clinic

My new job is as a veterinarian technician. So far I’m loving it. That said, there are some emotionally hard-hitting moments and patients. There are far more highs than lows, but those lows a little tough to process. Today’s poem is more for the sake of catharsis than anything else.

Animal Clinic

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 123: How We Wither

Heh, today is day one two three. How about that?

Been fighting a bug that likes to strike hardest when I get up in the morning, which is when I usually do my writing. It’s driving me just a little bit crazy.

How We Wither

Day 103: Toxic Refreshment

I have mixed feelings about surprises. Some are welcome. Some are not. Today I received the latter kind, which struck doubly hard because I was expecting the former. The original concept was something a little more fecal (with a comparison to chocolate), but I couldn’t bring myself to swear, which is what I feel that particular poem’s muse would have required of me. In the end, I think that this poem is better than the one originally envisioned. Anyone thirsty?

Toxic Refreshment