I Hate You Summer

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I don’t like to write during the Summer, or the Spring or when it’s hot out or when the Sun is shining through my window.

It’s not that I find the dark so inspiring, I just hate the distraction.

Long Sunny days are like white noise-but instead of that noise eating it’s way through my brain via my ears it eats it’s way to my brain via my eyes.

Yes, it feels as unpleasant as it sounds.

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When I’m writing or reading I do put some music on, but most of the time after it stops I hardly ever notice. There’s structure to music and if I’m familiar with the piece it drops completely off of my radar. But all of that sunlight? It just screams sweet nothings at me and before you know it I’m playing Mahjong or Hangman and my brain has gone bye-bye.

During the First part of the year I really don’t start writing until the evening and then I have to pull the drapes and shut the curtains and then I can write- so I end up staying up to late and I’m beat in the mornings but I haven’t found my way around it. I remember thinking how great it would be to live in a place where it was dark and cold. On the other hand, I’m smart enough to know balance in important.

Even if that means I’m only sleeping five hours a night.

Everything we do comes with a price- and having to view the Spring and Summer as earworms is the price I pay for what makes  ( or interferes with ) my ability to create.

 ( a failed poem, but I wrote it when the Sun was up ha, just kidding )

Sun Sun go away

I don’t want to  play today

Sun Sun go away

you’re bad for my skin and you make

people smell bad and they all want to

sit next to me on the bus.

 

Creativity Portal

Writing Prompt 7:

How does the cold winter weather and shorter days affect your mood or outlook on life? What if winter lasted year-round?

Grown In The Ice

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I found a world

I found a promise

buried in ice and snow

 

I found a story

I found an idea

how long were they out in the cold?

 

Hidden in the snow

grown in the ice

are they meant to ever be warm?

 

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Creative Portal: Writing Prompt#5

What do you think or feel when you walk through freshly fallen snow? What kind of metaphors do these thoughts bring forth in you?

Them’s The Rules

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Words are sacred.

Ideas are sacred.

Music is sacred.

 

I had a friend who thought a movie

was sacred an she would damn you

to Hell if you said anything bad about it.

The movie was  The Lord of The Rings.

 

Something about men  playing with their swords

wasn’t my cup of tea, so I was banished from her sight.

 

Beauty is sacred.

Blond hair children with blue eyes are sacred.

Flags are sacred.

 

None of those things are sacred to me.

Should they be? I’m thinking my life would be

easier if I did.

 

I guess that’s what makes the idea of sacred work when

I don’t think it should at all.

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Daily Post Prompt: Sacred

 

 

Frosted

Holidailies Prompt: Favorite Winter Memories 

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Every first snow of winter  is the best memory ever.

I love that soft crackle when the grass frosts over and the  roads and sidewalks freeze and the concrete twinkles like stars.

No past memory is better then that moment when you step outside in your winter coat and gloves ( I wear mittens ) and your scarf wrapped around your neck and that first blast of cold air hits you and you wonder if going outside at exactly that moment is the best idea you have ever had.

Of course it is and you know if for sure when your start your walk through that first snow of the Winter.

In thinking about it, what makes that first snow so special is the way it turns your every day world into something alien, how it turns a walk, a drive or your own yard into a new world.

A world that is dangerous, mysterious- a world that has teeth.

I love to take walks in the snow at night- there is enough light to make things glow and not enough light to distract you from the sounds and smells of winter.

The first snow sizzles when it hits the ground, just like the first rain after a long dry summer on dead grass.