Tag Archives: Thoughts

The magic word.

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It’s a crazy thing how times passes you by.  They tell you to live in the moment.  Well, that’s certainly what I have been doing.  Living in the moment.  You see, it goes with this whole, ‘let future self worry about it’ (‘How I met your mother’ reference).  Worry.  I’m not sure if it’s even that.  Motivation?  No.  It’s more like – you want to forget about it and numb yourself and watch the next episode of Boardwalk Empire.

As you all know, those who follow me, this seems to be a common thing.  A pattern is forming here.  I get into a habit, but then I jump out of that habit, back in and out again.  The magic word here?  Commitment.

I guess I’m a commitaphobe.  Through and through.  Ha’, that’s a clever way of putting it.

Oh, and thanks again. Sorry that I have been quiet, I do read your work, and I love reading it too. 

Remember, it’s all about commitment.

Winter.

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It is winter here in Australia, and it is my favourite season, next to autumn of course, and during my walks I have taken some photos using my iPhone. Sometimes I get caught up in the moment while I look up and admire the different colours of the winter sky.

I look up at the tops of trees and love how they appear like a misshapen shape with their dead branches and emptiness. There is something certainly poetic about these trees and how they appear with the sky as their background.

There is something changeless and sad and moving in these images.

Here is what I have come up with.

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*All images are by me, Jesse.

Life and other things.

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Hi all,

I’ve been calling this period of absence ‘a catch up of missed opportunities’ since I’ve been spending a lot of this time to work on my novel, read the books I’ve been meaning to read, and of course, read the material suggested by you kind fold.  Thank you.

It has been a busy time and of course – a time away from the internet. It’s good to get away from the business of the buzzing net (although you can’t quite escape Facebook). And you forget sometimes how distracting the internet can be but of course being absent means that I’ve lost track of the posts submitted by everybody else. So, I look forward to catching up with you all and I look forward to the amazing posts you all have no doubt submitted over the past few weeks.

I think I might make some kind of commitment to keep track with you, that although it is good to get away from the internet, it is also very important that I stay in contact with all of you because I do care about what you share with us. So, what I thought about doing was commit myself a week of wordpress, and bloggi-goodness, and then a week off the net, of utter commitmeant to read, and study and focus on the “novel-novel”.

Now, I have a few things planned for you all this week. I’m going to share some of the adventures I’ve had over the past couple of weeks. Nothing too special, I’m not really that interesting, but it would be good to share it with you anyway.

Also, I have a few poems and short-stories to be submitted.  Watch out for those.

Love always,

RedPlace.

And the hard times get… easier?

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Balance seems to have returned to the universe. And once again the pen hits the paper. The wordslinger returns. Or am I just reading too much Stephen King these days? Ha. No such thing.

I haven’t looked at writing my book since November, but at least I can look at writing my poetry again. Since, for I while I had given it up. And at times I thought I had given it up… (duh-da-duhh…) permanently. I think at times I might just been a tad dramatic.  Maybe it had just went away for a while and then, it decided to return again. Just as well, it’s nice to know that I can do something right… every now and again.

So, I’m rambling.

Well, it has been a fine life. Too busy of course, teaching year 10s, two year 11 classes and a year 12 class. It’s all serious business of course and I have no time to think, let-alone write. That’s okay, though. It’s hard but it’s good. I’ve got things to look forward to and a goal all planned out. I’ve just gotta get the book finished. So I’ve gotta find some time to get it done after all this socialising and working and reading and working and eating and socialising. How am I ever going to get it done?

Despite the hard things, I’m still motivated to at least get some poetry done, but I have to get into some form of mantra to actually get THE BOOK DONE.

What do you think fellow writers?  What routines have you committed yourselves to? What wordslinging doctrines do you follow?

Mad Men. (the seekers) – Poetry

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Mad Men. (the seekers)

By J. A. Weymouth

 

Entrenched beneath

guessing

as the shadows dance in the hallways of darkness,

a footstep is taken, into the lamp lit room.

 

Solitary is the hint behind the eyes

the fool seeks the company of mad men.

 

His face is only half of the moon,

and tempers with the light of world.

 

Only darkness and blood can enter

though this is no gory tale.

 

Just a simple mad man

wondering,

meandering into

the hallways of others like him.

 

And so they dance.

Something new, something… blue?

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I like this time of year. You feel warm. You feel fuzzy. Somehow the light shines through the end of the tunnel and you rekindle with your motivation. I wonder how long it lasts? Is it really only because of the extra Vitamin D that we find ourselves such the merrier?

Hmm. Maybe not.

Maybe things just have an ‘expiry’ date, and somehow, things reborn. Winter is just winter.  Spring comes around again.

Today has been a mixed week.  A combination of being somewhat lonely and somewhat stifled. It is that dreading sense as a teacher, that one day, you’re going to have to face ‘them’ again. Yeah, I mean the kids.  Today was my first day back and it wasn’t so bad.  Actually it was a lot of fun.  I also took on a lot more responsibility as a teacher.

Weird.

I had a weird day.

Weird… in a good way.

Now, one of the reasons why, I figured, why I haven’t been writing a lot of poetry these days is because I haven’t been reading a lot of poetry.  I used to just read the classics.  Yes, a lot of Coleridge, Blake, Dickinson.  Nothing modern or recent has really caught my attention.

Do any of you have recommendations? I would love to have a read…

When push comes to shove

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Why am I not writing you ask? Well, you see, it probably has a lot to do with writer’s block, and as you can probably tell, it happens A LOT! I guess you could say I lose the motivation. I go in and out of bouts of laziness or I have depression. The reason probably has a lot to do with all of the above, but I also think it has a lot to do with self doubt.

One of the reasons why I started this blog was to motivate myself, to professionalise my writing, and to get my poetry “out there” and feel as if I can actually, in fact, write (not just write, but write well). Sometimes the doubt sinks in of course, and you can tell when I lose the ‘courage’ to post such personal pieces.  It is not so much that it is personal really, all of my writing is, in fact, I feel quite liberated in expressing my ideas.

This particular post is a ‘whatever’ post. The ‘whatever’ post is a way to move past self-doubt and just ‘give-it-a-go’ whether you like it or not (there has got to be a reason why I have the 200 + followers, right?). Meaning that ‘in the name of Merlin’ (Harry Potter reference, if you don’t know it you’re not my friend) I shall write, damnit! And write whether it is good or just ordinary.

Let the ‘whatever’ post be the blogger’s doctrine and let us not worry about the opinions of others but encourage ourselves to ‘give it a go’ and write. In fact, write everyday if you can. Life’s too short.

Hopes and Fears – Poetry

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Hopes and Fears

By J. A. Weymouth

There was something

lost in that sigh.

A paramnesia of windows shutting and

light closing began

in the wake of ideas.

 

Too far lost those ideas tread

(and they don’t remember their true beginnings)

so far away taken, over long shores and hopes, were they.

 

Corrosive/archaic from water.

Water is the fearless patient.

 

What is this wistful feeling?

A searching/yearning/wanting of the things that have passed and have not come.

All that has taken the hand.

 

Beyond question/reasoning to believe that place is only home,

but that home has become corrosive!

 

The head, like the hand, has been taken somewhere

away – mingled by the strain of ideas and journey seeking –

living in that false reality.

 

And I believed in that fantasy.

Hope has taken my hand.

They say it happens in threes.

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Is it true?  Or is it really the haunting thought that just lingers over chance?  An unfortunate chance.  Unlucky.  So here are my threes:

On Wednesday I was in a car accident.

On Thursday I fractured my ankle.

On Friday I broke my favourite mug.

So let me tell you the story of last week.  On Wednesday I was in a car accident.  It was a beautiful, sunny day, windy but lovely.  A friend and I were driving back from a town that sells the best fish ‘n’ chips, and I tell you what, they were delicious (I know! So Aussie right?).  We had noticed that it was an especially windy day, but on our way back home a tree, out of no where (yeah, I didn’t see it coming), fell on top of us while I was driving.  The windscreen shattered and I remember feeling the warm breeze of the wind reach me through the shattered glass.  I was bleeding and so was my friend, but they were only scratches.  There were no serious injuries and we were both okay.  Even though I panicked, I was still able to pull over safely.  It was dealt with as quickly as possible once I pulled over and after I took a breath and got out of the car.  The tow truck came quickly and we got out of there in around about an hour. The car was a write off and I got my insurance money very quickly.

On Thursday I fractured my ankle.  Only after I just going through this accident, the next night I go to my usual Roller-Derby training session and by the end of it I end up fracturing my ankle.  Oh, so lucky.  The only difference from that session like every other session is that I had new skates and we were in a new location.  The fractured ankle could be the result of me either getting too full of myself with my new skates (which is most likely), the new, smooth floor, the new, underestimated skates or me simply overestimating my abilities.  I like to think it was the smooth floor.  Boy, I tell you, I got a good ‘kick’ out of being in hospital two days in a row.  Lots of waiting.  But the doctors and nurses were very sympathetic as well as having a good laugh at the irony, well I was laughing too.

On Friday I broke my favourite mug.  I tell you what, it’s a real bitch getting used to crutches.

The moral of the story?  You could go through most of your life without getting into an accident and without breaking a bone, but sometimes, life can surprise you.  I have never been in an accident and I have never broken a bone in my body.  But to have them happen all at once?  I’ve broken plenty of mugs before of course but you could either look at your circumstances and think ‘boy, I’m unlucky’ or you could look at them and say ‘boy, I’m pretty lucky’.  I have had a week off work, I got more money back from insurance than I expected, and I’m learning to be pretty patient.  But I tell you what, out of all of this, I couldn’t have done this without the love and support of my friends and family.  They are all truly amazing.

Gosh darn it, I’m pretty fucking lucky.

The Night Drips

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The Night Drips

By J. A. Weymouth

 

The night is dripping

Soft melancholy

of the night.

 

Soothing thoughts of nightmares weep for better words.

 

The nightly whispers.

Red roses are not thoughts.

that sparkle sound

that shines

is dim in the dark.

 

And here I am sitting/waiting.

 

Quiet lights put pressure

on the mind,

while speechless/sensless

I am driven to a quiet world.

 

There are many whispers in the dark while I search for it.

 

A knowing.  A caring.

Distant.  It sits still.

 

What am I in that dark place?

 

That night drips

and I float alone

with soft words of reason.

 

Quiet words they are.

Quiet.