Writer’s Block

The roaring builds,
sound impacting,
heat rises
a wall, pushing outward.
The burning builds,
spreading outwards,
racing through nerves,
lines of fire tracing through skin.
The flames spread,
consuming the fuel,
transforming…
changing.
The passion spreads,
consuming thought,
destroying…
building.
Air rushes in,
fueling the flames,
feeding them higher,
sending them skyward.
Senses rush in,
escalating the passion,
lighting the nerves,
tormenting the body.
Fire consumes,
Passion builds,
Flames intertwine,
bodies commingle.

I thank you,

for being my friend,

and all that entails:

Laughing at my jokes,

especially when they’re funny.

Groaning at my jokes,

when they’re that bad.

For giving me a smile,

every once in a while,

to let me know,

I’m not alone.

For saying “Hello”

On those days I can’t.

For talking with me,

both seriously and in fun.

About life, work, and love.

For being sounding board,

for my ideas,

my thoughts,

and my hopes.

For trusting me enough to share,

Your thoughts,

your hopes,

your ideas.

For reminding me

That I don’t have to be alone,

that there is a lot of good

to be shared in this world.

And for sharing with me,

the good times,

the bad times,

and everything in between.

For respecting me,

and my space.

And for being a bother,

when I try and close myself away.

For understanding me,

All that I say,

And,

All that I don’t.

The idea for this borrowed gratefully from Rabbi Rick

A cycle completes,

Closing the door on heartache,

Pain, worry, and sadness.

Closing the door on joy,

Wonder, relief, and achievement.

A new one begins,

bringing new chances,

new opportunities,

new choices.

The choices of a new cycle,

of a new beginning,

of a new life.

And yet, each cycle,

arbitrary, is part of the flow,

the endless current of time,

of life, of hope.

Author’s note: L’Shana Tova is the traditional greeting for the Jewish New Year, which began Sundown, 15 Sep, 2004. It is now the year 5765.

Time, fleeting, desperately short.
Never seeming to have enough,
no time left for self.
Minutes stolen as a breather,
Gasping for air,
trying to find a moment.

Time, dragging,
going slower...
No break from the monotony,
Time slows,
becoming solid
When will it end?


Rumours

Rumours fly, like birds
on the wing. Faster than light,
knifing through the night.

Bargains

Self-Respect for sale
Cheap, to the lowest bidder;
only one owner.

Lies

Trippingly they fall,
Lightly from the tongue they spring
bringing dishonor.