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Another Saturday, Time for Writing

So, yes, I am supposed to be working on a poem for tomorrow's reading at a local monthly poetry reading. I have several poems ready but thought I would try my hand at some more. We'll see. Seems so far all I'm accomplishing is some computer time here. Noon already. It's been a busy week with appointments and fighting the Florida humidity, missed doctor appointments (showed up on the wrong day) then a make-up appointment, tore my money order by mistake so had to do a re-run and get a refund and re-issue (thank God they would do that for no penalty). Gave the puppy a sudsy dunk and wrung out my dresser drawer and ten, yes, ten loads of laundry yesterday.

Still managed about 5 poems this week somehow. I'm not sure that I am satisfied with them, they don't have a sharp edge to them, just mundane words. Not that unique twist of words, that artists flair. It doesn't strike all the time, that twist. Frustrating. I hit it once in a while. Like the tea haiku I wrote with the last line, "brew the black dragon". It's out for contest, so I don't want to put the whole poem on here. It worked, had a flair. Or my Windows poem, that's been published so I can put that here. It compares the despair inside myself with the story of the wicked Queen in Snow White. How it came out in that way was a mystery to me, it just spun out of my mind and through my fingers one night, a thread captured in moments of clarity and creativity. That's when we are in that "time for writing" and why we must turn off the phone, close the door, glue ourselves to the keyboard and ignore the life flowing around us. Best to be hermits from the world for that is the writer's best friend and closest lover.


There's a window to my soul,
I keep it closed up tight.
It cries and laughs,

like the old Queen's mirror,

Voicing words I don't want to hear,
speaking truths I can not face.
Exposing agonies others would see
if I would but crack open the frame.

There is a madness that exists behind it,
with the huntsman waiting in the shadows,
his sights piercing through the veneer,

watching for that one vulnerable moment,
to leap out and extract my heart with his blade.

The Queen holds her breath in anticipation,
A dark creature who hides so well,
observing the battle's ebbs and flows,
of insanity behind the window of my soul.

All Rights Reserved Ruth VanAlstine 2017

Have a wonderful weekend friends.......


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