2001-06-14 - 11:37 p.m.
Poetic Fragments

I didn't update at work today either ... *shrug* I was supposed to go out and measure another house, but the office was unable to spare a work study student to go with me. Ah, well. I got to spend the day snooping 'round university webpages, working up an idea of what I want our department's site to look like.

I'm supposed to have a Writing Day tomorrow with Jocasta, but I need to drive to the parents' house to drop off the check for my car insurance (I'd mail it, but I can only pay half, so I need someone to interact with the agent in person) and stop by my old optometrist. It's been 2 years since I've gotten new glasses, and mine are quite scratched, but I can't afford even deductibles at the moment and our insurance drops vision coverage at the end of the month. *sigh* Problems, problems.

Oh well. I can take Jocasta with me; it's unlikely to eat up the entire day, and her husband won't be picking her up until after 5pm.

I dug in my old notes to find more remnants of my stories, and tripped over a couple of poems I wrote during my last year at university. I thought they'd been lost! It gives me a slight glow of confidence in my writing abilities when I look them over again ... Surely, if I can write this well, I can write publishably well? I can only hope.

On Viewing "Lake Placid"
No ripples here; the lake lies still and calm,
a sheet of silk in murky sombre hues.
It seems a place of beauty, and of peace,
a surface-semblance with an earthy lure.
Beneath the silk lies what no man has known.
Mysterious, like woman in her ways,
the water keeps no council, speaks no word,
'till what it holds no longer can be hid.

--(name name)
01/23/2000

Okay, so that was perhaps a little melodramatic of a poem. *smile* Would you like more? I have another in front of me that must have written itself out of my subconscious; at times it seems merely silly, at others deeper than I can grasp. I wrote it, as the title implies, on the side of a refrigerator.

Refrigerated Poetry
Look twice at the men under the moon
silent and shaken in their holiday apparel
They stop at the edge of night
and pretend to sip the sky
I dry my eyes and don the winter sun

-- (name name) February 2000

It has a curiously unfinished quality to it, I think. I wrote others like it, but never thought to write them down; this one only exists on paper because I got several comments on it.

I could dig out my older poetry as well; but the vast majority of it was written either in severe romance-related depression, or in a very silly mood ... and I'm not in the mood for diamond teardrops or odes to Heinz 57 just now. *laugh*

I should probably start carrying a notebook around with me again ... I have the strangest ideas sometimes in the middle of the day, for a snip of rhyme or a neat twist to a storyline, but I never have the means to write them down immediately ... It reminds me of a Tom Clancy book, where the wife of his main character (Jack Ryan) says to him, roughly, "If you didn't write it down, it never happened."

Think about it...
... while I cover my *yawn* and creep off to bed ...