Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Pre-poetry micro-challenge: Weekly edition 2 - Focus



One thing. Consider it. Choose it. Plan it. Do it. Reflect on it. Change it. Do it. Reflect on it. Practice it. Perfect it. Reflect on it. Add on it. This is the method. It will exert itself. You have only to let it. Letting it is one thing. Consider it. Choose it.    Attention split in two is not twice as good, nor even half. Focused, sustained practice, over time, building stamina. It has been said. It has been tried. It has been tested. It is true. Consider it. Choose it. Plan it. Do it.


As you know if you've been following, I've been working on building the habit of habit-building, and of doing things for specific sustained periods, few at a time or singly. The first month of school has been a trial by fire, and I think I'm still surviving, though I can't say I've come through unscathed. However, I have not pressed the snooze button a single time this month so far. That habit at least I feel I can say I have developed to sustainability.

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Pre-poetry micro-challenge: Update (or: Day-what?)

                                                       


When seasons collide, the best things happen. Morning frost limns bloodred maples in shining rime. A tree full of Canadian flags rustle, pend in the wind. They wait their turn to leap into the unknown, ripe for hands to pick, feet to stomp, crayons to rub, practised fingers to arrange. What could be more heartening food for the soul than the brilliant splash of colour, roaring a challenge to frigid despair, yet grinning welcome to the promised death and renaissance of winter to come.It's become obvious to me (and maybe to you, if you've noted the paucity of posts in the past weeks) that the quotidian scheduling of this challenge is incompatible with my new school-year schedule.


Gilt butterflies, goldleaf petals whisked on wind and sunshine, enticed up and upward to the light, light and ethereal, golden moths to a shining flame. Aphrodite wishes, a sure thing, never tarnished, never perishing, good as gold, word is bond.At first I was sad, figuring I would eventually just sort of "time out" and abandon the challenge. However, in keeping with many new ways of thinking that seem to have stolen over me over the past two or so months, I realized that just because I wasn't keeping up with it as I'd originally hoped, didn't mean I had to abandon the project entirely or start over in order to maintain the illusion that everything I do is perfect if I do it at all. After all, I could see that I was actually getting something out of it. Turns out this "forming a habit of forming habits" thing is actually where I needed to start. (Talk about "starting from where you're at". Who knew applying teaching methodology to myself could effect measurable results?)

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Pre-poetry micro-challenge: Days 11 and 12

It was a dark and stormy... grey descending, heedless, invincible yet affected, melancholic. Sardonic noir humour, tempest raging unheeded. No eye of the storm, he resides in the face of it, unseen and trampled by the elements. Mystery, dark and bold, chiaroscurro film. Banister, balustrade, buttress, butler, butter, better buddy. Night under streetlamps or day peeking through the grim. Carless, deserted, death lurks here, murder and larceny. Have a care for your wallet. Attend to your secrets.

(forgot to post this one but I wrote it on Day 11)

Voice. No one has the right to silence yours, thought many will try. If one voice speaks too softly to be heard, how much louder will it speak if you add yours to it? I am livid when some try to silence the voices of others. Repressive silence is at the heart of so many injustices in today's world. If it can't be said for its own protection, the more need that it be exposed. If it hurts you to hear what someone has to say, how much better will you feel when you to find a way to ease their pain.Today I was trying to think what I was passionate about. In my adult life, I've found it hard to feel like I'm passionate about anything because I'm quite easily sapped of energy and so I don't often take on creative art projects or stick to erstwhile hobbies like playing piano. However, then I started thinking that there are definitely things I feel strongly about. I definitely have moments of flaring anger, or bursts of delight. Thinking about this, it occurred to me that one of the things that tends to drive me to passionate expression (usually in the form of rants or shared posts) is injustice.


Friday, August 31, 2012

Pre-poetry micro-challenge: Day 10 - 2 for the price of one



Longing for my bed. This is how it makes me feel -- glorious, decadent, shiny, like nothing will ever be this perfect. Who wouldn't want to be here. Bright and cosy, comfy, sensuous. Fabric hugging me, loving me like a cloud, heavenly, angels watching over me. In here is the life I live right now, the feelings I know I love. Out there is cold and shady, who knows. While I'm in my bed, I am queen of my domain. Think I will stay there for the day.Thanks blooming, unfurling, hanging like leaves, like prayers whispering, twisting in the crisp autumn wind, spinning out and up and around and down to the ground. Gathering, drifting in corners and across the lawn to be raked up and leapt into, piles of fluffy, crunchy comfort. Appreciations, given with each morning, each evening, each meal, each kiss, each blessing, each gift. Hang them high with hope and praise, for the wage of gratitude is grace.Yesterday was crunchy, and I didn't get to pre-poetry writing, so this morning, I've done two to make up for it. Still experimenting with the best times for stuff with school starting. I'm not quite in a routine yet, but I figure I can still keep up with my habit-building goodness.  

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Pre-poetry micro-challenge: Day 8 - Indulging



I'm not going to buy them, but looking at them makes me happy. Maybe more than owning them, in this particular case, given the inches on these things
On some old self-indulgent schizz. Purple satin MJ too-high heels... Boudoirs, corsets, courtesans, sex and class. Martinis and white wine, the outer beauty, pain for pleasure. Mary Jane, the consumate little girl, shoes engineered to give a shine and smoothness to the angular ash of the human foot -- fit for work and play. What kind of work, these, is another question. What kind of play. Sultry shady sensual sleek. Bustles and proffered arms. Tipped hats and fascinator bonnets and pin curls.
On some old self-indulgent schizz. Purple satin MJ too-high heels... Boudoirs, corsets, courtesans, sex and class. Martinis and white wine, the outer beauty, pain for pleasure. Mary Jane, the consummate little girl, shoes engineered to give a shine and smoothness to the angular ash of the human foot -- fit for work and play. What kind of work, these, is another question. What kind of play. Sultry shady sensual sleek. Bustles and proffered arms. Tipped hats and fascinator bonnets and pin curls.
In other news, I've successfully made it through the first week of the micro-challenge. Hooray!