Archive
Vacation’s Purpose
Cover of The Vacation
Each year millions create an almost migratory herd, like so many waves rolling toward a shore called “vacation.” Each traveler has in mind a personal calling toward whatever destination reaches in and takes hold of the heart for that season. How many can resist that pull?
My writing partner left this past weekend for vacation with her children. Since that particular blog is on vacation this week, I’m left with additional and unanticipated hours of luxurious time to delve into new studies, new avenues of knowledge exploration. I could spend the extra hours working on some of my long projects, but they’ve already been delegated to regular work hours.
For now, I can download seminars and listen without guilt, soak in new knowledge to add to those bits I’ve stored away, and investigate hitherto unknown streets that branch off the cyber highway. There’s a lot of territory to roam in only a few measly days. What if I get lost?
No fears. Fear is the little mind killer. That has become my motto of life.
Learning new software applications will get an hour here and there. A new book will have a half an hour of my time each day. An hour long seminar each day isn’t too much to do. And a couple of hours devoted to my writing course will pay off handsomely in a few months. (I’m rebuilding—not revising–my YA novel.)
The finishing touches on my first book of poetry are happening today. It will go to beta readers within a few days, as soon as I get them all lined up. Once it’s out to readers, I’ll concentrate on the second book. I have all of the photos, thanks to Sister and that trusty camera of hers. It’s begun, but now I must implement the outline for the epic poem.
Did I mention that I just had two more poems accepted by Four and Twenty Short Form Poetry? That drives more incentive to send out more poems and create a few more just for outside submission. Surprises like this one I can handle without difficulty.
So far my week is starting out pretty well. Speaking of poetry, here’s the one I did yesterday for Poetic Bloomings Prompt of Write a Resting Poem.
Restlessness
What gentle rustlings
Probe mind’s nooks
While sleep hangs
Suspended, waiting?
What probings shake
Awake memories
Long forgotten
While slumber paces?
What shakings loosen
Ponderings, dry eyes,
And weave weariness
Into strain’s distress?
These rustling, probing
Shakings serve to
Alert, with useless
Restless wonderings,
Leaving behind
Confusion’s legacy
Of sleepless nights
And fog-filled days.
Oh, to sit beside the
Stream of Forgetfulness,
Dipping toes into sweet
Thoughts of Easement;
To feel Zepher’s breeze
Linger on naked skin,
While Pan plays his
Lullaby to needy ears;
To rest within a cradle
Rocked by Earth’s pulse,
Removing all care, worry,
The better to nurse from Peace.
Some may see my planned week as anything but a vacation. That’s fair. For me, who has the occasional full day up in the mountains or along a lake shore, my definition of vacation tends to differ from that of others. A day to do nothing but read a new book or an old favorite is a mighty vacation indeed.
Enjoy your own coming holidays, everyone, and leave a comment here telling of your own vacation plans. Or, do you have to wait for get a break from routine? Don’t be shy. Everyone wants to go somewhere. Feel free to share.
A bientot,
Claudsy
Related articles
- Poetry Revisited (kbunge.wordpress.com)
- The American in Me – (intheperputualruins.com)
- Workin’ For It – a Poem in Response (margoroby.wordpress.com)
- A Summerful of Tuesday Tryouts (margoroby.wordpress.com)
- Women Writers in Bloom Poetry Salon Celebrates One Year (lcurrelley.wordpress.com)
- Looking at the ground, seeing you. (owmaria.wordpress.com)
- From Nature’s Patient Hands: For Couplets, Elizabeth Barrette (wbabiak.wordpress.com)
- BYOD: Death of the nonworking vacation? (zdnet.com)
- Writing Poetry and the Creative Process (lizbethwrightbooks.wordpress.com)
Previous Post
I escaped to my poet’s playground this morning and got to compose in the sandbox with my paints.
Here’s hoping you enjoy this playtime effort. I’ll have more poetry tomorrow, and more postings during the week.
Have a great weekend, everyone, and come back for the holiday week refreshed and energized.
A bientot,
Claudsy
Related articles
- Expansion is Good for the Writer (claudsy.wordpress.com)
- The pick of the world’s poetry in London (standard.co.uk)
- June Poet of the Month (juliecatherinevigna.wordpress.com)
- Vale Rosemary Dobson (Australian poet) (whisperinggums.wordpress.com)
In the Shade, Tea in Hand
Poetry is an... (Photo credit: liber(the poet);)
Our daily writing prompt from Poetic Asides reads “Write a shady poem—Open interpretation” or words to that effect. You can see some of the possibilities here, can’t you?
No time to waste today on exposition. Let’s get to the poetry! Enjoy yourselves!
Expectations
She came in from the green field,
Ready but not willing to yield
To his warmed hands that awaited,
Nor would she stand, breath abated.
Instead, she called a long wavering note,
Seeming to cast her sole possible vote,
Concerning continual molesters of his ilk,
Saying “No!” to his stripping of her milk.
No anger answered her call, only sweet talk
To reassure her of his rightness, “No need to balk.”
She listened to his whispers, guided to her stall.
Once there she relaxed, finally willing to give all.
Shy, elusive, scuttling from leaf to leaf,
She listens, wary, knowing missteps cost
More than her own life, her children’s.
Twig snap!
Freeze; eyeballs only, scan for foes.
Birdsong allows for exhale amid
Thundering heartbeats; too long,
Gone too long, but close, very close.
Another length of ground gained,
Fast beneath the canopy, taking
Advantage of each dark haven
That hides the path home.
One tree between her and sanctuary,
She gathers strength and speeds toward
Those she nurtures within the hollow
Of her heart and beneath the pawpaw.
Safe, all safe!
Little ones gather round, nudging, seeking.
Onto the floor she spits out seeds, gathered
with care for this second feeding of the day.
She’ll endure fear and fatigue to mother them all.
Claudsy's Blog 
Readers On Claudsy