Imagine a place that tingles your soul,
Like the sweet taste of an orange popsicle,
After singing the blues.
Delight in a wonderland that rains honey,
Over carnivals of fruit,
While echoes of melodies awaken the ghost.
Then celebrate the symphony,
It plays to the sky,
And dance, just dance, to the rhythm of your dreams.
I pulled out some of my old writing journals the other day, some dating as far back as 30 years. The timing seemed right to revisit auld lang syne diaries of dreams, thoughts, and stream-of-thought poetry. I don't even know if there is such a genre of poetry. I have no education or experience writing poetry, as you can tell from the mixed bag of meterless metaphors above, yet I seem to have an abundance of it. Digging through pages of random imagery scribbled on crusty, tea-stained pages is a lesson in humility. It makes me laugh and cringe at the same time. Like, who did I think I was, that I could put pen to paper and call it art? Thus, it is my resolution to do less chronicling and more creative writing this year on this blog. This is a lofty resolution as both my dogs are battling serious health conditions and I am facing re-treatment of Lyme disease (again). Though I dislike putting promises in writing, I hope I can bring life back to this corner of the world where my imagination created connections with readers around the world for more than a decade.
A toast to you, dear reader:
May all your joys be pure joys
And all your pain
Happy New Year Readers!