Time for some poetic callistenics. Trying to get my “head right”.

34 constant rare snail magpie witch

Rare is the day that doesn’t bring some joy

Doesn’t take the spell of a witch to employ

Words of doom and gloom are the chattering of a magpie

Periods of joy make me high

Don’t move like a snail when joy is around

Constant attention to life makes happiness abound

35 deluxe swallow nature camp brother

You needn’t swallow a mediocre life

Don’t wait, there is no afterlife

Get out in nature, it’s really the place

For all mankind, it’s really the birthplace

Make a camp, then just unwind

Help your brother, it’s just being kind

To be in nature just feels deluxe

Take it slow, set up two hammocks

36 sand exuberant grace lyric exposition

To live an exuberant life is the goal

Live it with grace, don’t sell your soul

The lyric of life is the exposition of joy

Do not allow naysayers to annoy

Time is signified by grains of sand

Don’t spend your life in a one-man band



Out the window, a dreary day

No drugs to make the blues go away

Just experiencing it is the meaning of life

Let it in, open the door

Get in the flow, you won’t need more

Allow your passion to run free

Being open to all around is the key

Rest your doubts, let it be


Take me back to the passions of my youth

Live the real life, that is the truth

Like the song “Nothing Else Matters”

Life is not for the actors

Let it flow, bask in the glow

To do less makes existence bareness

Live life with awareness


Where are you? My soul mate

Searching for you, the time is late

I long for the serenity of your touch

For you to appear is not asking for much

I know you are lonely too

When we meet, will no longer be blue

Our friendship will marvel many

Living our life, we will be free


When I was married, my wife was an artist working primarily in oils. Sometimes she wouldn’t paint for days. When I would ask her about it, she would say she wasn’t feeling it or wasn’t feeling creative. I never disagreed with her, but silently I didn’t really understand this thought process. Since I started writing poetry, which many consider an art form, I now understand what she was talking about. There are days I’m not “feeling it”. I was basically not able to write during the month of October. Not sure why, nothing bad happened to divert my thought process, just couldn’t. This is often referred to as “writer’s block”. I’m going to go back to my roots and see if I can force start the process. I miss reading the strange things that spring from my brain.