Chorus of Blue

Journal Entry: Back on the Saddle

Posted by in Writing

I have not been able to write in a couple months. I’m not sure what it is… depression, distraction, lack of motivation? I am not making time for a daily practice of ANYTHING. Writing, prayer, showering, eating a regular meal, a simple morning routine, regular sleep… nothing. It’s all chaos and by the seat of my pants lately. I’m weary of it. I have so much on my heart and mind, but it seems to stop short of my finger tips. So for now, let’s start with journaling. Whether it’s…read more

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Poetry Project: National Geographic Photo of the Day Writing Prompts

Posted by in Poetry, Poetry, Prose, Ten Minutes, Writing

Ever since I was a young girl, I have been deeply fascinated by National Geographic magazine. The wonders of natural phenomena, distant cultures, space and the cosmos… it has all enthralled me for as long as I can recall. Early in life, I insisted my dream career was to be a NGeo photographer and travel the world capturing the unique beauty and wonder of this planet. As most childhood dreams fade, those did as well. But the fascination always remained. 

Now, I’d like to take an opportunity to revisit that fascination directly, but to do so from where I stand now, as a writer.

POEM: Istikhaara

Posted by in Poetry, Poetry, Poetry, Writing

I made a prayer for guidance
And signs like meteors
came barreling forth

We sat on the lawn and watched them
light fire to everything
Each hope and near certainty
set ablaze

I saw the ash rise up in the air
like a warning
choked on it
coughed       wept

Then we held hands and laughed

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POEM: And I Regard My Own

Posted by in Poetry, Poetry, Writing

He said,
I just wish I could touch someone’s hand
like I used to.

And I regard my own
with broken electric conduits shrinking and
my heart sending pulses eeking through

I try to open the jar and there’s so much protest
How weak and trembling like children
they retreat.

I just wish I could touch someone’s hand
like I used to.

And I remember when the pencils first began to slip

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FREEWRITE: You Write Back

Posted by in Poetry, Poetry, Ten Minutes, Writing

There’s eagerness
I’m grateful I’m not the only one

There has never been much hope for us
But I want to pour my heart out
Like a journal entry

We fish for these connections
                             hands wet in anticipation
                          
So desperate to be loved
or understood

So weary of being 

only desired.

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