Edges

This is what I see:
the colours staring, breaking
into different worlds.

M.
Sep 10/15, acrylic on canvas

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Revisiting: the Who and What and Why

Sometimes it’s time to curl up with a good book.
And I wish those times were timely more often….

But now that school, aka college (yikes!) is about to start, it’s time to do a bit of grunt work. In addition to my college courses I’m taking Blogging101 – a challenge to myself to start paying attention to the little things, to get more focused, and to find out where I want this thing to go. I know I’ve done a bit of “revisiting” already this summer – in terms of the blog and what it’s all about, but now I’m gonna do some more. You might call it spring cleaning, because fall cleaning just doesn’t sound as nice. So here it is: more thoughts on the who, what, and why of insertcleverwordplay.

Who

Starting with my first post, I purposefully made very few concrete statements about who I was. The reason? Going out there on the internet is scary. It feels unsafe. So here’s five facts about me that will hopefully help you get to know me more.

  • I am/was an MK – a Missionary Kid
  • I play Pathfinder, aka Dungeons and Dragons. So yeah. Nerd alert.
  • I absolutely love writing, so much so that I’ve begun writing a fantasy novel.
  • I am a Christian. No negative connotations please.
  • I officially moved out yesterday. At eighteen. Scary.

What

This one’s kinda tricky. From poetry to art, to planned posts about photography, video games, and swords, this blog is a mishmash. So here’s my best attempt at narrowing down the focus of insertcleverwordplay.

  • 1) writing about the world and my experience of it (poetry, short stories, etc)
  • 2) my art and what I’m currently making
  • 3) occasional personal interludes

Why

It’s so easy these days to go and get a blog, right? It’s free, simple, and available to anyone with a device and an internet connection. But I think it’s important to know the why of it too. The “why do I bother doing this?” and the “why am I writing out loud and not in my head?”. So here’s my take on it.

  • I think I have something unique I can share with the world – no one’s writing is quite like mine, and this goes for every writer out there.
  • I want to test my writing in the crucible of online publication. I’m starting small.
  • I like doing it. As simple as that.

Any thoughts to share or comments to make? I’d love to connect with you and get your take on blog writing. After all, your opinion matters, because blogs are safe spaces to explore and put yourself out there.
And since we’re on the topic: thanks for putting up with me in turn.

M.
Sep 7/15

Bonds of Friendship

Dear readers:
I don’t know if you like the personal (and sometimes unintelligible nature) of some of my poetry, and so I beg forgiveness in a ‘sorry-not-sorry’-sort-of-way for posting one last (or rather, another) poem of a very specific, personal, experience-based flavour. This particular poem describes my “core-seven” friends in colours and impressions. I don’t know if it applies to you, but I suppose you can still learn things from this piece. Things like the fact that you don’t have go by the rules in poetry. At all. You can describe sounds in colours, people in words, nature in heartbeats. Or something like that.

Dear friends (who are hopefully also readers):
this poem is about and for you. If you think my descriptions awkward, then, well, deal with it. If you don’t, then hey, that’s cool. I’m sure you’ll know which one is meant for each of you when you see it, though I’ve given you a bit of help by providing your first name’s initial. In the case of overlapping initials, well, let’s just say it’s very obvious who’s who. And no, the order does not matter. It simply flows best this way. Know that I’ll miss you guys a ton, at least whenever I’m not crazy busy with college. You’ll hear from me soon, though probably in less creative ways than posting on my blog….

“Lights”

[e]
You are a song of green
A whipping willow with
its branches of the clearest red
So dark it flows like molten lead
in complex shapes and crescent waves

[i]
You are a ripple of red
A shining ocean storm with
soft waves and tides in mixing hues
Of greens and yellows, reds and blues
that form inside your perfect mold

[m]
You are a pool of black
A liquid being with
the infinite space of possibility inside
The grey shades mixing with the white
into a steady, statued self

[h]
You are a sun of blue
A shining lantern with
a yellow light inside its folds
That keeps whatever hues it holds
inside a copper lamp with many hands

[a]
You are a rock of gold
A boundless bridge with
its windows weighed in tan and brown
And twigs with cherry-blossom frowns
that freeze before the spring

[m]
You are a drop of rose
A cherished moment with
its loud blue-laughter calling
To autumn petals gently falling
in the cold embrace of the wind

[c]
You are a fold of purple
A complex weave with
thoughts that go both there and back
Within confines that teals still lack
to brighter shades of lilac stones

M.
Aug. 6/15

Similarities

Sometimes I draw strange conclusions between what actually happens and what I perceive. I will think that one is like the other, and then, when I think back, I’ll realize that I was wrong. We all do this sometimes. We hope against hope and get our expectations up – and then, when it all comes to an end – there is a strange discrepancy between thought and action, between beginnings and endings that spin around inside our heads….

Similarities

I draw similarities with my words
Of people, who aspire to lesser things
Of people, who aspire to catalogue the world
in an eternal heartbeat

And after the perfect day
When backlit museum pieces
frame the moonlit night
I wander among the spits of timbers
Cedar carcasses – rent apart – a stage
And hear you whisper into the wind

“I don’t care,” is what I hear you say
It hurts – when I, so foolish
decided you meant to love me
When you – honest man – burnt-wish Templar
decided I meant no harm
No harm at all

“No harm” – these words are akin to existing
in unspecified drones, weak hopes
hollow spaces, hollow minds
and homes without faces in the rain-washed windows

I hope
I hope – the candlelit moonlight speaks
I hope – it wills a dream inside my mind
I hope – it tells me whispers
And shows me little similarities
between the perfection I perceive
and stark – beautiful – intriguing reality

M.
Aug 26/15

On Wheels

Packing for college has made me think. I’m not leaving for long, but I realize that I’ve missed this, the hush of suitcase-slipper wheels on hard floors, the din of imaginary crowds in my head and on the city streets.
This one’s dug up from two years ago, and it says it well: How life sometimes is more together and yet still further apart when you’re walking on suitcase wheels….

A man walking, beautiful how
he has his suitcase by his side
comfortably. Its grip is smooth
and a familiar walking stick
on wheels. He walks, big steps
In a hurry to get somewhere
though he doesn’t know where
he’s going, really, just home.

I miss the walking quickly
when it’s dark and it’s cold
and the man needs his coat
as much as he loves his suitcase.
Sometimes I wish I was the man
in the city – any city, really –
that breathes as a body
is crawling with red ants.

I love the rush you get from
knowing you are completely
insignificant and yet a part
of some phenomenon we call
“The World”, I think. We know
not where we came from or where
to go, but the man is content
to simply fulfill that lust he feels
when sitting still.

M.
Oct 25/13

Beautiful Things

These beautiful things
So hard to make ’em last
We hunger through the day
Yet in the night we fast
From all the things we crave
‘Cause they can never last
And always they escape
To dreams where we begin again
And leave our worlds of glass

We see through all the pictures
The smiles and glances right
We hug and kiss and make love
But we never stop and fight
For all the things we hope for
For we think these things alright
If we simply believe
And avoid the haunting thoughts
That still visit us at night

And even if we fight this
If we commit and pray
There’s no God-given promise
That things will work out today
We like to point our fingers
And hunt some promised prey
Yet we can never know
The threads we wish to weave ourselves
Into the perfect way

And still

These beautiful things
So hard to hold on fast
Turn my life into joy
As long as they still last
I know I will remember
I know there’s more to see
But these beautiful things
Retain a silent grief inside
Their short-lived rush of racing tide

M.
Jul 31/15

Simple Pleasures

Cold apple-juice my insides licks
While sour-cream of coolness tastes
And in zucchini-soup goop sticks
While down my throat the food with haste

Next radish-horse on ham and bread
And pick of veggies from the cold
If cabbage, carrot, pepper red
Or something else my mouth enfolds

Yes sir, our fridge is full of food
Like herrings in their hallowed jar
A nest of eggs in styr-form broods
And juice completes the drinking bar

A taste of yogurt, frozen fruits
And freshly apples picked (and pears)
Pink radishes and onion-roots
‘Midst carrots with their verdant hairs

I don’t aspire to gluttons’ meals
Nor in my joy deny this wealth
But since, for once, the table feels
So full I won’t raid lair or shelf

From my own kitchen to my mouth
A spice, a sauce, a green, some meat
Ring true the words “i hör ned auf”**
And so, without a care, I’ll eat

M.
Apr 29/15
**”i hör ned auf” means “I won’t stop” in German dialect
And yes, I made the food in the pictures myself…

accidentally inspired; purposefully written