Sunday Blog Share: Indulging Conjecture

Holly has a new website as a result of a hack on her existing site.
I invite you to click over to her new site. Luxuriate in this gorgeous poem and follow.
Comments are closed here. Enjoy.

Indulging Conjecture

by Holly of Heartafire

Along  the  sea

pink sand pulls away

from a glistening shore,

melting fondant in the

sticky heat.

Minute  ecosystems inhabit

tiny  grottoes in the  tide pools

of wet sand.

Some days I stroll the coast alone,

indulging realms of lovers

where there is no logic but

a crushing ache …

 

Continue reading: Indulging Conjecture

Your Life

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A little attempt at poetry. Inspired by a friend who honored her life’s journey despite pressure to comply.

Your Life

Squat on the floorboards
And let your life surge out of you
Hot, sticky, and wailing for attention
Red fisted fingers raised with demands

Your life wants you undivided
In tree forts and toeshoes
Clarinet howling at the mounting moon
Gyrating disgracefully to an untamed song

Be luminous, scraped and scarred
In mud and blood and bright green glitter
She wants shameless love to burn her
Brand her with its valor

She will seethe and storm and slam doors
Strand you with your reasons
Forsake your obligations
And fearsome insecurities

Your life would rather be held against a raw heart
With all the ache and passion and mess there
Than sit cross-legged in some therapist’s chair
Wondering why her soul is barren
Why she won’t squat on the floorboards
And bring her life to birth.

Passion and Priority

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Passion and Priorities may sound like a Jane Austin novel…but nope, nothing so restrained.

I’m talking about a circus act, a high-wire attempt at juggling while riding a unicycle with five bowling pins flipping through the air. It’s an act of balance.

Anyone possessed with an all-consuming passion, knows what I refer to. Whether it’s an artistic endeavor, a desire to race cars in the desert, to savor exotic foods, ban landmines, or never wear the same shoes twice, the need for balance occasionally sets that high-wire a-wiggling. Sometimes it’s the clown stomping around down there in the three rings, the one with the diapered terrier on a hip, pointing at the kiddie pool, demanding a reassessment of one’s priorities.

I walk that tightrope a lot, relishing the thrill, the single-minded concentration as I surrender to my passion for the written word. To immerse myself fully in my world of imagination, without regard for other priorities, is liberating. I’m spinning plates on spindly poles and no one’s shouting to save the dinnerware.

But I’m also that orange-haired, red-nosed fussbudget with her clown shoes slapping the ground in furious circles. Under my polka-dot skirt, I must mind my clown family and friends, a squeaky car that needs oiling, more terriers due for the vet, and grocery bags overflowing with bananas. I can pretend this part of me isn’t real or that she’s just a joke, but in truth, she’s a necessary part of the big show.

In my thirties, I used to wonder what I would do when I “grew up.” I remember those drifting days of waiting…for inspiration…for passion…for the circus to come to town. Always an eye on the magical tomorrow when something wonderful would happen. The big top finally arrived and I’m making up for lost time. Juggling those priorities, keeping all the pins and plates spinning in the air. It’s a grand problem to have.

Are you like me? How do you keep your balance?