I’ll cop to it. I’m an actor, a poet, a photographer, a writer. If I made time to study them properly and practice I’d be a musician and an artist as well.
Yes, I use these creative outlets to explore life outside my tiny world. Yes, I use them to express myself within my abilities. Yes, these creative outlets are fulfilling in and of themselves and I will continue to explore them and be creative with or without an audience.
There is nothing quite so exuberantly thrilling as getting feedback. Like applause, when I’m acting; or likes/loves/comments on things I’ve posted online. Even a critique, telling me what I can do better.
You took the time to appreciate what I’ve created. That is a powerful thing. I appreciate every single click, whether it’s a comment, critique, or like.
“Fucking fuck fuckfuckfuck!” He mutter-shouts to himself under his breath, “This is not going ‘according to plan’.'”
Too close. Fragmented faces following a gaze.
Too close! Broken and betrayed, belittled and dazed.
Too close. Distracted by the darkness; driven mad.
Too close! Picture perfect profile pulsates badly.
BACK UP! Back off. Back down.
Spotlight shining sends shimmering sparkles. Back up.
Radiant rays are rescuing ribbons, back up.
The mirror cracked just makes many moonbeams. Back up.
Illustrious luminations light fires, back up.
snow twinkles respond
I looked upon your face again,
I saw the face I loved.
I saw the person I no longer knew.
I closed the door.
And that, was that.
Do clouds get lonely? Do they weep,
When they stray from the storm?
Does the dresser drawer squeak
To mourn the stand from whence it was stripped?
Are the fish missing their chums
If sharks attack to split the school?
Sheep will bleat, the wolf will howl,
During detachment from their flock or pack.
Loneliness creeps in and settles like a fog.
Rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall
Her chest should be like an empire — rise and fall.
But lungs no longer expand; no heart beats.
Bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum
The heart-drum should count off the cadence.
But no pulsing thrum, no sigh of exhalation.
And yet, I thought I saw her breathing in the mist upon the glass.
This post is a little different. Rather than starting with the poem then giving notes, the notes come first, poem after the break.
This is a poem I wrote a while back, not sure when, probably within the past 2 years. It came to me as a song though. It has a folky ballad kind of sound. That’s another distinguishing feature to this post, I don’t write songs, I’m not terribly musically inclined.
The melody is somewhat inspired by the song “The Greatest Adventure” by Glen Yarborough as featured in the cartoon version of The Hobbit (from 1977).
At least one verse doesn’t flow with the melody well…I messed up on the meter somewhere.
I sang it tonight, for the first time ever, aloud, and in front of people. I think I need to fix the wonky verse, maybe tweak the order a little, the record it … and have someone who can write music put a backing track to it…maybe. Or maybe it’ll stay a capella. If I’m not terribly self-conscious after I get it recorded I’ll post here by way of YouTube…but that might never happen either.
This piece of work is also different from the rest of the work I’ve published here so far in the license, it’s CC-BY-NC — Creative Commons; Attribution; No Commercial.
Basically it means that you are welcome to take it and do whatever you like with it, with two caveats: 1: You can’t sell it, or what you create from it. 2: You have to give me credit for the original work.
button encrusted, denim warmth-giver
no leather. no letter. no ring.
just a temporary gift to cut the chill
psychedelic, groovy foot-thumper
no mush. no promise. no expectations.
just an album shared
days roll into weeks; weeks — years; years to a lifetime.
and still I never could.
strangers become friends; friends — lovers ; and love is forever.
but I never could.
heart sends words; words — mouth; mouth stays silent.
because I never could.
I never could.
I never should.
…I never would…
silence to words; words to paper; paper to you.
strangers to friends; friends to strangers; then back again.
a lifetime rolls back into days.