Passing Time

 

It’s all well and good writing all day, I love it. Spending hour after hour picking apart and piecing together these word pictures. If I could, I would live inside these patiently woven word capsules and never catch sight of day. Words tend to take me places, crazy places where mystery meets magic and the wonders never cease. Reality, the cruel creature she is, strips me of my juvenile fancy to stay at play, so I have to take to finding solace and joy in the land of the living.

I’m a man of simple pleasures. I have a few vices that keep me human, a few friends who keep me toeing the fine line of sanity and a few core principles, these help steer this crazy fare ground ride in the right direction.
I try to feed my various faculties well. I got in the habit of making sure that my mind, body and heart were always getting there fair share of the pie. As with most things, the more I fed them, the more they grew. The more they grew, the more they wanted to consume. My entire life is now spent catering to these faculties.

I used to own a small book shelf, a quaint little thing. It held an assortment of fiction and nonfiction, from from a hand full of authors. That little bookshelf stopped being enough years ago. I discovered  that I always had to know more, I always had to read more, I always had to learn, leafing deep into the paper hides of everything that tickled my curiosity. My small collection has grown in size. Since I started feeding my mind I’ve had to reach out for more content to appease its hunger. I now have  a bookshelf, a duffle bags, and an assortment of storage boxes filled with literature I’ve digested, and literature waiting to be soaked in. I like to read.

The books and the writing cater to a more sedentary life style. I balance the quiet of the study desk with the action and vigour of sport. I was once a very keen basketball player, playing through all 7 days of the week if the opportunity presented itself. Of late, I’ve had to enjoy the sport more sporadically than I would like to. This hasn’t been a barrier enough to dwindle my physical exploits. I make the effort to work up a decent sweat as often as I can. I’ve recently started setting myself some challenges, something to keep me pushing the envelope and working to get better, fitter, faster, stronger. I’ve ran a few races with surprising success, a couple 10k’s and a Half Marathon. More recently I’ve taken up a new sport to sharpen me up a bit. Its all exciting stuff, hard work, but truly exciting stuff. I’ve always enjoyed the lessons in discipline that sport has been able to teach me. Eating well was always a true test of discipline, having to turn my nose up at a banquette of baked goods has been testing.

When all is said and done, I like to take time to take care of my relationships. Depending on who you talk to, I take to this with varying degrees of consistency. The down side to chasing storms is that you lose track of time, after the dust settles, everything appears strange and out of place, with your bearing a little off. In light of all the sacrifices I’ve had to make in pursuit of this vision of mine, a few faces have stayed close by despite the bouts of radio silence. Its hard to ignore those faces, without those faces the initial fear would have swallowed me whole and I wouldn’t have dared to try. Taking the time to share moments with these people is precious, it makes sure my heart is filled with all the right stuff. Whenever I step back to life I take the time to laugh, cry and make memories with them.

When I am not writing I try to make my days count. At times it feels as though there aren’t enough hours in a day, but for each day there is time enough for savouring moments. There are moments to grow, moments learn, moments to love, moments to live.

Blissful Nomad

 

 

 

Gold-Mind

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There is so much gold inside your longing to be you, this is the most precious intent. No heavy cloaks of foul feelings can dim a diamond cut by the goodness you feed your mind. The mind, so precious an instrument, when seeded with love will yield abundance. Make the mistake of welcoming thoughts with ugly features and you run the risk of stepping into an ugly world, cold and uninviting.

Its okay to be you, let the manikins muse. So often revered, this jury of your pears has played a role in stifling your sunlight. You have earned your summer, so smile and forget shame. Learn to love all that your heart conjures in its hunger for life, its thirst for love, and its wants in the throes curiosity.

I have never seen a rose recoil in shame. It blushes often, but bears its head with pride, unashamedly a rose, be a rose. Let all the goodness in you blossom and let the world return the favour. There is nothing more contagious than true happiness.

…If you have good thoughts it will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.

Roald Dahl

 

 

Writing 201, Assignment 8: Ode – Ode to my Journal

 

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I have broken the flow. As it stands, today, I am a day behind on Writing 201. Here is yesterdays assignment, better late than never.

Another day, another assignment. The ode, today’s (yesterdays) poetic form, is a longer piece with a more intricate structure, and is very much new to me. This assignment was another impressive contributor to my poetic education, I learned a great deal as I dived into the new and wonderful world of odes. I learned words like Strophe, Antisrophe, and Epode. Most importantly, I was fortunate enough to learn what an ode actually is. Needless to say I was , yet again, thrown well out of my comfort zone, and had my creativity and perseverance tested. I attempted to make this as much of an ode as I could, doing my best to follow brief. The prompt for the day was “Drawer” and out of my drawer I drew out, my journal.

Without further ado, I give to you, “Ode To My Journal” utilizing, Apostrophe.

 

You are never very far, you are stowed, to steal my mind,

still but never losing your zeal for holding ink.

We build and fill you wildly with every drop I can find

of the force that feeds my reasoning, soul and paper are linked.

Your have ledges bartered as ledgers for secrets I never told,

You have spattering thoughts bled from a struggle I couldn’t speak,

Of cumbersome weeks spent redefining my own being.

That silent vigil awaiting me, tucked in my tables hold,

is gold, it tips the scales of my mind, when tongue is weak.

You can picture every corner of me, without seeing.

 

For all your patient moments, so humbly poised, listening,

you have never spoken up to steady my ailing truth.

Your bathing in rugged strokes, ink on the page glistening

frustrates me, I’m waiting for something to set you loose.

I’m tired of your reminders, I’m well aware of the falls,

the fire that ate my bridges and landed me in despair.

You only talk in echo’s, you mirror my oldest prose,

summon your own voice, my mind has summoned its walls.

Your silence is suffocating, you need to feed me with air.

I’m tempted to keep you hidden, leaving your pages closed.

 

I’m troubled by burning prose, and unimagined mementos

you are the only aid that can save me wasting the fruit.

I’m furious when I struggle, when troubled by empty thoughts,

I appreciate your patience in all my written pursuits.

I’m a loose cannon of anger when words are hardest to find,

you’re kind and cope with tantrums, that take me out of my mind.

We often defy reason, with mine, your minds weaken the binds,

that tie me to the limitations of logic.

 

(c) Saili Katebe

Writing 201, Assignment 7: Poem Prose – Finger Painting

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Assignment seven, you were a cruel mistress. You came in the form of Poem Prose, and asked me to weave a piece with a prompt absolutely ripe with possibilities, “Fingers”. Alliteration was covered earlier one in Writing 201, and the vowels have now been offered a chance to enjoy their share of repetition. I’m aware that I unconsciously implement alliteration in my pieces. However, I did tried to incorporate assonance in today’s piece.

The piece started life as free write, and I quickly watched my editorial hand fail, swiftly overpowered by emotions of deep attachment. The length and structure of the piece could benefit from a more objective approach, however today, emotions win. Maybe next time. Enjoy!

A mailable palm of properties collect to construct this, Soul. Cradling a life form that teeters along the edge of things, wonders the waves of time, in time to be cradled by earth.

Listen to, the tapping tentacles, digits. These fingers of feeling, fidget. These are my emotional appendages, claiming a canvas wildly. Its through there numerous trails, overlapping in open air, that my peers form a picture of me.

They are alive with activity. Aiming there tips around me, swarming with hues of, everything. Where everything connects, the palm, collects the abstract. You can see the hand I was dealt, its touching. The mandibles whelp, at nothing, at time I am held as a prisoner as they wrap into a fist and forget me.

They stretch themselves in cannon whenever need and impulse impede. Anger has harshened strokes, envy forever emulates. Sorrow undoes me, under the pale shades it presses into existence. Happiness elevates my every steps with forever triumphant ease, I bleed these spectrum’s. Greed grabs at the edges, praying maybe there is more to have, but moments have me wanting more, control.

Its a morbid bag of inching whims that have latched themselves to living. I cant grasp a fuller picture when they roam as wildly as they used to. My nerves are growing steady now, fewer tremors inviting staggered stroke.

They are flailing metronome tips, that the winds of change provoke. They have marked time in memories. These fingertips, with fingerprints of an ambiguous spectrum, have walked the ivory keys of new beginnings and played my ballad, to a time signature they cannot forge.

 

(c) Saili Katebe

Writing 201, Assignment 3: Acrostic – Trust

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Another day in the world of WordPress has provided another glorious opportunity to fine tune our art of expression, Writing 201, challenge number 3 is in play. The poetic form we have been given to play with today is “Acrostic”, spelling out a word, or words with the first letters of each line of our poem. The optional devise we can make used of today is the internal rhyme, and finally the prompt. Our poems have the option of addressing the topic trust, in any manner we see fit. This is my contribution. Enjoy!

Momentary truths are tested against forever,

Afflictions of affection, feeding a foul weather.

Summers of sweet escapes and serenading amore,

Quiver in moors, stagnant, stripped of any allure.

Unravelling vales falling, raising a stale wall,

Elaborate tales told, unfold to exhale all.

Roaring flames spasming, eating away the frame,

Attacking the strokes painted by pain of a known name.

Deceit is a small game in the dance of hidden intention,

Evading the truth for gain, only maims future ascension.