the poet's prize

it never ends.

an unbroken cycle of irregularity with an uncanny air of familiarity.

a brooding dark, resonant with the grey clouds of a sullen day.

a poet's prize lost into the mud, the poet pining for it as he watches it sink back from whence it rose, a phrase to be remembered as fleetingly as a heartbeat disturbs the chest.

a hollow space, surrounded by walls, floor and ceiling, where nothing lives by day and nothing laughs by night.

a constant voice: "Look up! Look up!" - and a sun veiled by clouds.

a lonely tear, wiped clear by a friend to make way for the next.

hope - it will end one day.

music

its amazing how good music soothes... the calming tunes of Coldplay wafting down the hallway from the main office contrasted to the flat-out cataclysmic cyclone that billows through my head... i don't think i should ever go more than a few hours without music; i need it too much

la mer, reclaimed

The sea has always fascinated and amazed me. I am always struck by its beauty, its vastness and its indomitable power. It writhes and surges like a massive beast slumbering fitfully, close enough to the entrance of our world that it could crush us if it awoke. It listened to a man once, but it was He who created it and it knows no such obedience to us. It sprawls out far from the shore, tempting me to see what lies beyond the furthest waves. It is so beautiful as to make me stare in awe for hours, abandoning all problems to the hypnotic constancy of the rhythm of the waves that disturb the stillness of the dark blanket sprawled out before me under a fading sky. No problem, no pride, no power is so large as to not be dwarfed by the sea.

enigmatic

My life is one giant jigsaw puzzle right now, and I'm kind of enjoying watching the picture emerge as each piece fits into its place. It's a pretty weird picture hey! Like, when you expect to see a Gothic cathedral but a duck flashes across the puzzle in an instant and just as quickly in changes again and you see a sunrise over the sea. I think it may turn into a treesnake but at the same time it could turn into a paint can. It could even turn into a fishbowl, but I hope not... don't really want another fishbowl; a long winding road would be much better. But it's all there, just waiting for God to show me where the next piece fits. I think the edge pieces are mostly there now... kind of cross-shaped...

hmmm...

should I be scared that I just monologued to myself in the mirror for 10 minutes?

I've always found some kind of interest in psychoanalysing myself, but isn't this going a bit too far?

it's been a while...

It's been a while since I've put a new post on here! Stay tuned for more bloggy goodness. For now though...

Bite-Me & Angst
For all your whinging or destressing needs

Given the overwhelming response to the "green light" post, I thought something more permanent and dedicated might be in order, so I can write thoughts and poetry in peace :o) Feedback/abuse is most welcome, as are suggestions for destress/whinge topics.

I think I have to get out more... :o)