Letter to reader

...i've known this all along,

you see,

at the start of my writing

I was mostly

who you now are

- a reader.

But the more I write,

the more I have to write

to write it right...

because I

make my writings

public.

What I publish

for all to see

and think about

maybe mention to someone

or use a phrase or a sentence

to build a scene

create a scenario...

...my words do not belong to me

once I have written them down

and allowed them to be read

they belong to you

the reader.

when my words

make pictures in your head

or touch a chord

tug at a memory

make you think

or when they don't

the only way I will know this

is when you tell me.

So it is time...

...to respond

in writing.

It is important to me

to know what your thoughts are

as important as it is

for you to practice your writing

This way we can both

practice this art

of writing

it right.

I await your response.

Helen

the Author

#talk, #tome, #intext

Ode to living

Ode: a lyric poem (?!)


Ok. So, when I say I'm writing an ode to living, someone must sing it. Neat. I don't know much about commercial music but, through years of exposure my perception of what music is, is nicely balanced by a personal preference for either 'white noise' or the sounds of nature.


I therefore grant permission to anyone who finds anything they wish to use, to do so. Change it to suit and belong to its use. Once taken, it's yours, so be responsible with the use of the words you've chosen to represent yourself with to your audience.


Having just recently started my first attempt to pen an ode to living, I am actively listening because it's the bones I am developing, from which the skeleton is evolving and then the big write will happen when I'll put the meat on 'em bones. (Apologies to all non-meat eaters for the analogy, but it works - as does the photo below of the goat in the pothole...checking things out.)

Right now though, in my listening, I am hearing so much that does not add value to our living. The aggression, at times, pulses around me, feeding in and on itself and I feel as if it's my first time out in the sea, with the waves threatening to wash over me, lift me and dump me...


'Fighting' back is an instinctive reaction and at times it takes actual control to still the bubbles before they rise to the surface and pop. Meditation helps me to focus and turn aside this tide of anger that threatens to consume all in its path, and I have to actively disengage from the process, step away and aside, to breathe.


The thing is...living and working in the city, after life in a rural setting, you may fight it...but eventually you have to adapt and take cognisance of the fact that life moves to a decidedly different, seemingly endless 'thrumm' wherever humanity congregates. All the senses are bombarded by a focused myriad of sounds, sights, smells, tastes and textures and the eventual numb-down leaves the spirit vulnerable.


This constant onslaught is not something everyone can deal with. Take time to sift through the debris left inside your mind after subjecting yourself to it's full force for a few hours. Think of how you 'feel/think/act' after a day of actively participating in peak hour traffic in the city centre (driver or passenger; public or private), in order to do some shopping on pay-day or month end (hyper or super store, not corner cafe).


...and...?


don't know about you but me, I'm going back to listening - with filters on this time or I'll bite someone - because as I said, I am in the process of writing an ode to living and I know that all I have to do is keep listening...the good stuff will surface, just wait and see.