5-7-5

There was a hauntingly beautiful sunset last night on the southern California coastline.

I was inspired to haiku whilst standing on a slight rise above our lagoon and my phone captured this strangely intense halo effect.

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My poetry chops are a little rusty…but writing a haiku is like creating a post on Twitter; that 140 character limit causes drastic slash and burn style editing and revision to convey only the essence of intention. No word salad here!

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*rockstoneboulder

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dig deep

stones and rocks and boulders

minerals

warm from the sun

bathed by the sea

salty, solid, and strong

transgressions might indurate the heart

but impenetrable, impervious

trustworthy

honorable

constant

*rockstoneboulders

nonetheless endure

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Cogitate and Vegetate

writerblockcatI’m sick.

Not with a fever or muscle aches or even allergies….

I have all the symptoms of “writer’s block“, a disease peculiar to writers — or in my case, a wanna-be writer.

I have lots of posts started — none finished.

One-hundred-twenty-one posts in the Drafts folder.

That’s a lot of procrastination.

This’ll be one-hundred-twenty-TWO.

Maybe I’ll be struck by the muse after a few glasses of this…or maybe not.

writers block wine

Happy Friday, y’all!

Happy Birthday, Edward Albee

Edward Albee

Edward Albee-Courtesy of flavorwire.com

“Well, when I was six years old I decided, not that I was going to be, but with my usual modesty, that I was a writer. So I starting writing poetry when I was six and stopped when I was twenty-six because it was getting a little better, but not terribly much. When I was fifteen I wrote seven hundred pages of an incredibly bad novel—it’s a very funny book I still like a lot. Then, when I was nineteen I wrote a couple hundred pages of another novel, which wasn’t very good either. I was still determined to be a writer. And since I was a writer, and here I was twenty-nine years old and I wasn’t a very good poet and I wasn’t a very good novelist, I thought I would try writing a play, which seems to have worked out a little better.” — In an interview with The Paris Review, 1966