1.22.2015

and the pain was a hook she had swallowed – a bright, relentless sun which burned beneath her heart without the relief that ash would bring –

and the heat rising up from her throat carried with it the most fervent prayer for darkness that the sky had yet heard – so frightening that the moon hid herself within her shadow

oh take, take was the plea, but the pain could only give, as was its nature

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1.10.2015

This damp January morning has drained the color from the sky and all it touches – everything is a shade of sidewalk. All but the unexpected pink of the sand cherry, which bursts out to laugh at the gray as I walk by. It seems that even trees can tease.

Somebunny’s Shifting Gears

Blue Bunny

I’ve been finding it difficult to juggle writing for the blog vs. writing for a possible new chapbook (hence the rather sporadic posts lately). So I’ve decided to give myself a break this year. For 2015 (or at least for most of it), I’ve decided to use the blog as more of a poet’s journal and actual finished pieces will be few and far between. Instead I’ll share some of the WIPs and little snippets I jot down which eventually become poems. And of course, little watercolor sketches and photos here and there. I think this will take some of the pressure off and I’ll be able to focus a bit more on finished pieces for the chapbook.

Oh yes – and do say hello to Moby over there on the left. Val, who is a lovely artist living in Wales, offered the name as a joke and it sort of stuck. Moby was originally going to be added to the pile of charity donations which will be boxed up and sent off to brighten up some little one’s day, but I felt his limbs might be too easily pulled off (poor Moby) so he’s been left on a friend’s doorstep with the below note. I think he’ll very much enjoy his new home.

Have a beautiful 2015, my friends!

Note

tallying the day’s efforts – a writing exercise

woke earlier than wanted
later than I ought

could not remember
my dreams

walked the dogs
and watched the juncos

tried to write
nothing would take

sipped bad coffee
and wished for better

had no food for the chickadee
sitting on my window sill

cried for the loss
of a neighbor’s dog

listened to trees
and urged them on

grew too shy
to join in the conversation

blushed too brightly
when someone was kind

smoked too many cigarettes
and got a bit tipsy

waited for someone
who did not come

would not have been
brave enough anyway

fell asleep
tallying the day

probably won’t remember
my dreams

© Sarah Whiteley

Have decided to use this idea as a sort of writing exercise for myself. Might post a few here and there, but really it’s intended to get the internal dialogue happening – to see if I can transition into the beginnings of a poem somewhere. I have to say, it was kind of fun and yes, even a little bit fruitful.