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K @september@writing.exchange

not entirely sure where I was going with this, but I think I got there. (but, y'know, poetry. subjective.)


sometimes you write a and you're exhausted. I think that's a good thing, in a way.


after a 12-hour battle with a migraine (ps: I won), I can still cough up a nice little tanka or two. skizzilz, baby.

"I swore my heart to the Sea, because no monster could take him from me. He is too great, he swallows all fears and makes laughter of all the monster's threats. I swore my heart to the Sea so I wouldn't drown."

I shouldn't really be writing right NOW, with coming up, bu~ut...old habits die hard ;)

"I don't mind that you're a patchwork girl," said the faerie knight. "It makes you different from all the other dolls."

Tired of being sick, sick of being tired, and tired and totally sick of watching all this sick-and-tiredness suck up my inspiration.

I have a head full of calmatives (because -- yes, you guessed it -- migraine!) and am so tempted to just start . I'm aware it would be mostly just nonsense, but...it might be fun or interesting. perhaps...

small garden, a world
a cradle of devotion
fallen leaves, bright dreams

and when the little ones come
how small, and awkward -- and sweet!

today's is about brushturkeys. yes, I wrote a about brushturkeys.

(to be fair, the babies are hilarious and cute.)

question: is an ambulance and/or hospital emergency room good for inspiration?

answer: yeah nah.

I realise that finding faceclaims for my characters is...well, for me, pretty inconsequential in the long run, but darn if it doesn't make me a happy writer.

sand beneath my nails
Mama Ocean calls to me
I need to go home

I need her waves, her breezes
these things that say I'm alive.

(Mermaid ? Whyever not.)

fury descending like flame
rage at helplessness

set a fire in my belly;
time to kick ass and take names

daily(ish) . not proud of this one, but it works for today.

Okay, my findings (read as: whinings) are thus:

Writing through headache: possible.
Writing through depression: LOL NOPE.

he was a moon-fox
born beneath a kudzu bower
star-blessed, spirit-kissed

could those lovely vulpine eyes
have seen a thousand years on?

[daily ; I was right about this getting the words flowing, just by the by...]

daily :

we who are alive
in such a transient world
where joy comes and fades;

how can we survive like this,
when sorrow so steals our breath?

no tanka yesterday due to severe coccyx pain.

I only wish I was making that up. Sigh.

the boy like lightning
floating over the pale ice
amidst the thunder;

he has rekindled magic.
he dances in a white flame.

(a daily to keep the words flowing? probably a good idea.)