I’m tired,
I can’t figure it out,
I wonder about Hemingway,
Dickinson,
I imagine Buckowski,
Sylvia Plath,
what wanders weighed
upon their lives,
so heavy,
the exhaustion became
the solution.
I’m tired,
I can’t figure it out,
I wonder about Hemingway,
Dickinson,
I imagine Buckowski,
Sylvia Plath,
what wanders weighed
upon their lives,
so heavy,
the exhaustion became
the solution.
I have always loved the beauty of writing letters. Today I wrote the most difficult one of my life. I think it is important to think about why we write letters. For one it is a beautiful way to tell someone how we feel, how we feel about them, how we feel about life.
I had an old pal I used to write when he and I were kids, and he would go on summer vacation. By the time we were back in school we had each written around five letters to each other. I suppose that was some sort of love, we were two young boys, neighbors inseparable when together. I remember trying to get another neighbor boy to join us – we were a trio at the time. He thought it was stupid and that would be a sticking point in our friendship up to this day.
I had a girl I wrote letters to after we parted ways. This was in college – we wrote to each other frequently. I would ask her what book she was reading, and she would tell me, and then she would ask me about my writing and I would say I was trying. She told me one time when she was now living with someone, she read my letter walking up her long gravel driveway so she could hide it before her boyfriend saw it. He didn’t like my letters. We wrote to each other for years afterward, until one day I asked her to move to my city. She responded with a reaction that scared me so much, I never wrote her again. I have always regretted that. I still have her letters.
I encourage you to write a letter to someone you care about. Write it with all of the passion you felt when you were with them. Words are important, but people in our lives are far more important. A letter is a way of telling them so, even if the words contain sometimes painful realities. They are still what we mean and generally bleeding with compassion.
Write someone you love a letter!
A silence,
listening to a brook
wonder each other together
a thinking
a state of mind
a desire to heal together
sitting alone
wishing happiness
somehow bring us together
Though now
well past confusion
wishing only to be together
losing hope
knowing truth
we do belong together
I may move on
my tears never cease
to remember how we felt
together.
I wish I could play the sax but I don’t
Picture – Google
She spoke of love
He would submit to
Anything
Beyond reason
She then cried
I cannot
I must go away
His confusion
Felt isolated
Bring this back
Bring this back
He said
He now became
Simply a thorn in her side
I will be 60 soon, It is ironic that I have lived this long. I have never known true happiness except in parts of my life. I recently knew love. Now all I focus upon is the happiness of others.
I recently came to terms with my life. A couple of months ago I came close to death. I managed my meds wrong, and they could very well have been the end of me. I found it frightening, but more so fascinating. I have been suicidal since I was twelve years old. So this happiness thing has kept me alive. It upsets me that I have let nearly fifty years rule my preoccupation with not wishing to live. I have not come to terms with the mistake of my medical needs. More engaging is my having found a way.
In my life I help people. I care passionately about those I am close to, though not always the ones I ought to, more likely the persons I am or have found happiness. Though that foil is misery, I still hold onto hope.
I once held myself to a moment of dropping my life into a river off a high bridge. All I had to do was unclasp my fingers. I have regrets about that day. I wonder today, four decades later what my life would be like on the other side.
Good night moon, you are a lovely reality.
Where love stands
compassion remain
internal demands
remain the same.
Once a woman
beauty spills time
held certain, ran
forever sublime.
She could return
the silence gone
allow this yearn.
A melody is song
I wonder of chance
may sense romance!
Telling my story while on my healing journey
They're mine, and yours 'cause our voice got lost somewhere in between. Welcome home...
So Dawn Goes Down to day
writings from my heart and soul
stories on adventure, and travel, and real life
Where Myths Are Maybe Real
Understanding ourselves and the world we live in.
poetry,writings,memories and more....
Concerning All Types Of Relationships
Children's book illustrator
Musings and books from a grunty overthinker
A Collaborative Mental Health Blog
A little bit of me, with a little bit of you. A little of the old mixed with the new. A little too loud, a little too shy. A little grounded and a little high. A little bit of sad and a little bit of laugh. A little bit of evrything i carry in my heart. This is my blog that highlights other works, for my poems and musings please follow me on http://myshellecongeries.wordpress.com/