Tag: poetry

Posted in Life, Uncategorized

Daily Writing Starts Now

Posted on by jennrae

I am going to attempt to write at least a little bit of new material everyday, just to get back into the habit. I think trying to fix this mammoth novel has actually made my writing stagnant. I have been so intimidated about it. The immensity of the task, the insurmountable mountain of the pages. The myriad problems, none of which are small mind you. I think I have been using it as a crutch to avoid writing in general. It was written in a long fever dream after Layne Staley of Alice In Chains died. I was a big fan, and it made me realize that life is fragile, and often temporary.

When I was in the midst of it, in the emotions and the living and breathing of it, I thought it was the most important and glorious novel ever written. It was only after the dust settled, it was written quickly in three months, that I realized just how messy and unreadable it actually was.

It has been the boulder on my back crushing me ever since. However, I woke up feeling invigorated and positive and with a distinct feeling like I could conquer the world. I haven’t felt this way in years, before covid, and all that. It has been a hot minute. So, I am going to try and get into the habit of new writing and writing daily. And, I am going to start going to the gym on a regular basis too. Healthy body, healthy mind.

That was the idea behind the YMCA. They thought a pure body was closer to a pure mind. Young Men’s Christian Association. It is very 19th century, reminds me of the way they built sanitariums to be shaped in a way to keep the mind pure, and the working to keep the mind busy.

I also plan on doing some hiking and adventuring because I live in a beautiful area that has so much outside nature. I feel like growing up here has made me take it for granted. I tend to forget all the beauty and fresh air.

Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing

Forever, –A Poem

Posted on by jennrae

Forever did he dream of her with the raven black hair streaming into the

sunlight glistening with a luster that could rival the diamonds of a treasure trove.

Her eyes flashed a brilliant blue like that of the water of the great sea, sometimes green, other times azure.

He dreamt while he worked, and when he slept, and never did the dream stop,

Sometimes it would leave him cold for she had a sadness about her as if she were not among the living, but yearned for a life long gone,

So many years past that her own town and his were unreachable by land or sea.

They never spoke, but he knew she would be the end of him, thoughts of the mundane or earthly matters meant nothing to him anymore,

And he ceased to remember to eat, ceased to go to work even, and one day, he didn’t get up at all. Still, he dreamt of her, and her raven hair in the sun glistened like a thousand diamonds while the calming sound of the ocean upon a distant shore echoed in the background.

Posted in Fiction, Life, Writing

Stream of Consciousness And Why I Sometimes Wish I was a Poet…

Posted on by jennrae

Been reading the news online and it is filled with the usual mayhem and death and destruction, and then I proceeded to stare at an empty screen for a bit thinking about how I should be writing and maybe I should figure out what I am going to write about.

Sometimes things come to me naturally, effortlessly. Just add coffee. Other times I need to coerce myself a little. I guess this is one of the latter situations as I am not really feeling it, but I find myself with the perfect opportunity to write. And I know I will regret not taking this opportunity later.

Then I thought about the term ‘Stream of Consciousness.’ It is a type of writing which I have read and I kinda like. Roger Zelazny uses it in his Chronicles of Amber, usually when his characters are changing their surroundings in some manner. It can be effective. It is perhaps the only way I can do anything poetic. It just doesn’t come naturally to me. I love words, and I love stringing them together in interesting ways. So, I should love poetry.

And, I love reading poetry. But, if I try to write a poem, it ends up either being sappy or depressing or amateurish. Or all three. Perhaps it is because it isn’t something I have worked on extensively. It isn’t something that I have sat and thought I could do. If you don’t believe you can do something, it is usually a self fulfilling prophecy where you will convince yourself to the point where— surprise, surprise, you can’t do it.

So, it might be a mind over matter type of thing. I don’t think of myself as a poet, therefore I am not one. But there is something to be said for finding a sentence that works and is visually compelling. I could probably go through my works and cherry pick sentences and phrases that sound cool to me and create a poem from them. Whether it could have a cohesive meaning I am not sure, but I could take the time to find a meaning and make it work.

Ultimately, if you think you can, you probably can. If you think you can’t, you probably can’t. The power of the mind and how you identify yourself, how you think or perceive yourself as a being matters.

My attempt at stream of consciousness:

New Year’s

Red flowers blooming brilliantly over night time skies

where the stars shine down like little paper lanterns

illuminating the fierce nocturnal eyes of a million raccoons

and cats and weasels and varmints as they scurry amidst bushes and trees

looking for tiny prey that is also scurrying looking for nuts and seeds to eat

so they can continue another day and another night

so that the cycle can start anew another day and another night

as the earth turns slowly in space rewinding time

like a loom of silver thread until one day there will be no more

and some other thread will start spinning

in some other faraway place will begin instead.