I’m very much enjoying sifting through my older writing. I especially like reading the poetry because I can sort of see into the past through those words, my words. I can see where I was at the time emotionally and spiritually. Today I’m sharing a poem from 1995.
I hope you enjoy this one.
And Then I Feel Love
March 21, 1995
I stand to see
I walk to the
shore to stand
in her waves.
I draw in the
pictures of a
and I see the
I speak to the
wind to find
my own answers,
I hear the words
of a thousand
sages come echoing
back to me.
I wrap myself in
the leaves of the
oak, the strength
seeming to carry
me thru all mist.
I stand to see the
I walk to the shore
and feel the
sand on my feet,
in my hands,
and in my hair.
Now I am carried
by the winds,
flying to the
sun, to the heart
of the world itself.
I feel the water
as I stand in the
waterfall of wisdom,
pouring straight into
and then I feel love.
(c) 1995 Joelle Wilson
Yeah it’s still a bit rough and I can see where I can tweak it to make it flow a little better, but I like this one in the raw.
Have a wonderful Tuesday.
Here’s a mix of blog entries that caught my eye today:
1. Nathan Bransford - Nice blog entry reference getting your book published.
2. Tami Etherton at A Cup of Tea and Sorcery - Wonderful blog post about friends, birthdays, and an adult beverage recipe. (looks yummy).
3. Ollin Morales at Courage To Create – Love the message in his post today. A must read.
4. Kim Harrison (only my fave author) – At her blog today another snippet of her writing life. Read the entry and then look around. And then go out and buy her books – you will not be disappointed by any of them. Really…you won’t..they are great. And did I mention she IS my Favorite author?
These are Monday Four Mix-up for this week. I know, I know there are sooo many great blogs out there – I just don’t have the room to list them all.
Go outside today and look around, take a deep breath, then listen. You may be surprised by what you hear.
I’ve realized a few things in my life and the biggest realization (to date) is that life is exquisitely imperfect.
My imperfections makes me uniquely me. I’m not the same as anyone else, I’m not perfect. I love the mistakes I’ve made in my life they’ve brought to the place that I’m in right now, here in this moment.
Imperfections allow me to be in the moment and focus on each moment in order to fully experience and embrace each moment.
Allowing myself to fully embrace my imperfections allows me to learn and grow from each experience that I have.
Allowing myself to love my imperfections, gives me the necessary breathing room to jump into the flow of life.
Jumping into the flow of life allows me to breathe easier and think more freely. Being exquisitely imperfect is just being.
Embrace your imperfections, embrace yourself and dive into the flow of life.
Have a great Thursday.
This is my first attempt at a Haiku. I’m having fun, so it won’t be my last.
Here it is for your morning perusal:
Secret nights, the wind
covers my body in love,
and I remember.
What have you written or remembered lately?
Cincinnati Zoo Spider - (c) 2011 Joelle Wilson
Each word used in a story carries its own weight and value. Each word is carefully selected by the author to lay the groundwork for the cloth of the story. Much like the artist selecting each color she uses, the different hues and tints adding its own special quality to the overall painting.
Those words are delicately woven together to form strands of thoughts and sentences are born. Each sentence linking to the next to form levels of story lines that become the paragraphs building up the story. Each paragraph stretching out to form pages. The pages becoming the web that will support the story.
The story when completed will snare a reader’s attention and wrap that person up in it until the story is done. The reader will then rest upon those delicately woven threads realizing that they have been caught up in the web that the author has created. Smiling and sated the reader will wait in delicious anticipation for the next story.
Anticipating the next discovery, hidden treasure, and long-lost love. Dreaming of faraway places or perhaps just visiting a local museum to find the clues that the murderer has left behind for the police to find. Hiding with held breath, talking only in whispers with the hero as the creature closes in for the kill.
Or perhaps inspired to write a story herself, the avid reader, will begin with a few words that will build into paragraphs. The paragraphs becoming pages and the pages building into a web of her own. Enticing more readers into the story, to climb onto the strands of the web and read.
What are you weaving?