Not All Those Who Wander are Lost

Found this entry in my journal from back in January. It fits exactly how I feel today:



Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost


There's a quote in one of the Lord of the Rings books, that I love. (google search produces:)

He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: it's springs were at every doorstep and every path was it's tributary. "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no telling where you might be swept off to."
The Lord of the Rings
Frodo about his uncle Bilbo Baggins, Chapter 'Three is Company'.

I like the idea of not keeping your feet and being swept away. I suppose free writing is sort of like that. You step onto a path and follow the stream of words that fly from your pen, or your fingertips, and in the end, when the flow subsides, you find yourself in a place you didn't anticipate...if the free writing is really free, and you write for long enough. I'm energized by that sort of journey.

It's like dipping your bucket into a stream and filling it up, then upon tasting the liquid inside, you find it's the flavor you least expected, chocolate, or raspberry or honey lemon tea. There's a flood to be swum (is it swam?) and the best I can do is just dive in and ride the current.

I spent much of yesterday floundering about near the shore, and that caused me problems when I needed to write something specific...when I needed to be creative and work on projects that lie waiting for me to pick them up and continue. Today, I'm hopeful that I can find that channel that will carry me swiftly into a place where I've not been yet.

I want to wander in the midst of the river and find myself...not lost but found.

Some days, writing seems like a whirlpool, going in circles, and getting choked by debris. But then there are days when you can break free of that swirling, go-nowhere current, and just rush headlong in the direction of the rapids.

I long for that rush.

I think maybe the structure of a schedule is making me stutter, instead of trusting the flow of the water.

Today, I hope to abandon myself to that tide and see where I end up. I look forward to an interesting ride.

Poem A Day Challenge - Day 30 - Farewell

farewell to the
twenty-nine odd
voice mail messages
the mountain of bills
growing on the
counter alongside
dishes from some
teenage apparition
evidence of their
nocturnal raiding
in back of the fridge

farewell to the
alarm droning every
morning in that
obnoxious tone
the snooze bar
teasing, eight more
minutes of respite
before the buzz
interrupts, demands
wakefulness now
mandatory attention

farewell to the
dandelions, crabgrass
creeping, climbing
backyard jungle
the syncopation
drip, drip, dripping
from the leaky
bathroom faucet
the protestation of
the squeaky hinge
on the cabinet door

farewell as I cruise
wind buffeting my face
tires singing out
against the highway
shimmering heat
rising between
me and the sunset
freedom beckons
bid stress goodbye
greet the horizon
and chase the road

Poem A Day Challenge - Day 29 - Never

this is the song
that never ends
in a city that
never sleeps
oh never mind
it’s never too late

it will never fly
It will never work
never happen
never say never
never walk alone
will we never learn?

the never ending
story of never
never land
I’ll never grow up
I’ve never been
kissed--not like this

she never smiles
tomorrow never dies
this will never do
it never occurred
to her to never
comprimise
a woman’s work
is never done

the sun never sets
I’d have never
believed it
it’s never too early
for things that
never were
they never looked
so good
I never knew
it was never enough

it’s now or never

Poem A Day Challenge - Day 28 - Sestina

Spring winds warn it's time, to make a long trip---
urgent message sent by wizened wizard.
I spy him wrapped tight, clothed in blue toga;
birch staff held aloft, drenched by driving rain.
The moon above is a silvery ellipse,
silently he shouts my magical word.


A certain power surges in the word;
magic shouted loud, an ancient cantrip---
to arc upon sound waves elliptical.
Young and old alike speak so wizardly,
syllabic power to incite the rain,
while unawares hide wrapped in wet togas.


Magicians all love to give thrills, to gas.
Proud orators too, fill the air with words,
soak the listening, watching crowd like rain,
soar on wild applause. Psychedelic trip!
They close their eyes tight---think themselves wizards,
with saucers that fly, cavort in ellipse.


Of punctuation, oddest is ellipse,
like freshman at prom, dressed in white togas,
filled both with teen angst, and tech wizardry,
versed in hip hop rhyme, writing urban words.
Text and chatspeak fly, while staid grammar trips.
Structure overflows, awash in this rain.


Sitting windowside, skies proclaim hard rain.
Clouds dance over earth's slow curving ellipse.
Storms may well cancel my make-believe trip,
from middle nowhere---to Saratoga.
I hope against hope, await weatherman's word,
watch like Dorothy's traveling sales-wizard.


Maybe I am her, off to see the Wiz---
beg a long weekend, escape from this rain.
Courage, heart, brains are granted at his word...
Note how that line ends with hopeful ellipse?
I think I may don, shiny black toga,
wave bon voyage and enjoy my road-trip!


Send me on a trip! I beseech, Wizard!
Attired in toga, I"ll dance in the rain,
ride this earth's ellipse. Speak that magic word?

Poem A Day Challenge - Day 27 - Longing

ocean floor
dark and cold below
ocean waves
dance above
swimming in between I long
to surface for air

tossed around
like a tiny craft
on the sea
of my life
by great waves and stormy winds
I’ve lost sight of shore

how I need
a lifeline secure
pull me in
hold me tight
rescue me from threatening sea
wrap me round in love