The "Almost Everyday Photo Challenge"...Day 8 ~ Sun.

A warm, spring-like day with a glaring winter's sun....

Posting these "Photo A Day Challenges" is fun, but it's hard NOT to create a proper post.  A single photo seems so....hmmmmm ~ empty, I think.  

Just by coincidence, I was thumbing through one of my old poetry journals and came across this ridiculous and over dramatic poem I wrote in my senior year of high school.  Wouldn't you know...the poem is about the sun.  Well, in my mind it was about the sun.  I guess it could be about anything to anyone. It's a funny little poem and I suppose I'll share it here, as it seems to be fitting for today's photo challenge...(it's okay if you laugh, I laughed at it too).

To Fall Softly

...and with a heat and a flame orange, it lingers,

wrapped in rags and waiting to be engraved in your skin.

Save some for ...

Later

I will save it for later.

To squeeze on the shoulders 

of

what you want.

Shoulders to ride upon

with heavy legs 

and

white sand in which

to fall softly.

***********

I know, I know...can you get any more dramatic and pretentious?  I was an odd sort of teenager, I suppose.  But, keeping a journal with me at all times was something that came natural.  I suppose it must have helped me somehow, along the way.  If nothing else, it's fun to look back.

Thanks for looking back with me

Until Next Time:

Kim

Gerusha's New World (The Secret Poet)

Drama Queen

What a lovely couple of weeks I've had. I'm on a bit of a "vacation". But...all that really means is that my Musty Boxes Ephemera shop is closed for a period of time. My photo shop keeps me ever so busy, listing, packaging and driving to the post office. It was time to take a break and focus on other goodness.

Recently, while on my wee vacation, Gary and I rummaged through some of our old boxes in the garage. I came across one of my very old (and embarrassing) journals from high school...



I always carried around a notebook/journal...always ready to doodle or write down a few lines of poetry. This particular journal was created when I was 16.

Oh, it's been fun looking back through my old writings. But, I must admit, I've cringed more than a few times. Why oh why was I so dramatic and exaggerated? I reckon as a 16 year old girl, everything is intense and jagged.

While thumbing through this journal, I did find a few pieces that I actually like. Would you like to read them? They're short and it won't take long...

A subject hung free, Not to shatter.
The mind may push, The stale clatter.
Cling on wire, The corner stool.
Kick over the shadow, Wipe up the drool.
Stand on your head, Break through the floor.
Turn-out the hip, Clean out the core.© ~1981~


Unwanted spaces, Wild-eyed traces, He paces.
Mock speech, Aching to teach, A flexible reach.
Dead-ends and gentleness,
Streaming fullness pushes tragedy.© ~1981~


Our pure gradual glances, formed through traveling hysterics.
Kneeling interests and dull eagerness turn,
when there are no abiding disguises.
Sweet silent walls of my dancing destruction, show me more of your new hope.© ~1981~


Resting overgrown terrors become spies
of their own rushed vacancies.
First entrance of the aged, unfaded vastness.
The turbulant and mocked gaze,
The misplaced maze.
Our fond, soft building
of fables and frenzies.© ~1980~

So....there you are. A bit of a peek inside my head as a 16 year old girl.

Until Next Time:
Kim
Gerushia's New World