Of Language, Beauty, and Storytelling

not-quite Journaling, 5

Language is magic
we feel in words.

1/20/2021: It’s true. I believe it in my heart and feel it in my bones (which is why I love writing and reading and all things that come with words in them). What about you?

there’s beauty
in all the phases
of nature

 
 

1/25/2021: I’m always delighted by how beautiful a flower is from budding to wilting. I especially love how the scent grows more complex with time. Have you noticed? If not, you should try it one of these days (then tell me about it). My amaryllis buds tend to smell of flowery grass (to me), the mature flowers spark the scent of sunlight, and when the blooms start to wilt (I swear) they smell like wine. I wonder if this is some kind of selective synesthesia—if I’m not smelling the scents but the colors. What do amaryllis flowers smell like to you?

Love can be a monster,
or not.

1/26/2021: I was asked for a blackout poem that could be the first line of a love story or a tale of psychological horror. This is what I came up with. I’m going to expand the piece into a full-length poem, story, or a combination of both. Would you like to help? If your answer is yes, leave me a comment with a line or a sentence, which you think would fit the expanded piece. I will do my best to include every serious contribution. The gathering of sentences/lines will remain open until mid-February.

- for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #55: Break Dance!).

Theory of Knowing

Last night, I knew all
I wanted—you. Then
comes the dawn, singing
of new wonders I want
today, wonders I don’t yet know
if I will still want
tomorrow night.

- for my friend, Re, and for anyone who finds themself at the end of a relationship they thought would last forever, and is now convinced that they will never (ever) love again. Endings and Beginnings happen—and we never know which is which, until we know.

- linked to Poets and Storytellers United (Weekly Scribblings #54: Hindsight Is Rather Tricky).

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Finger-Feeding Souls

I watch his body—hands, arms, torso, head, face—speak to woodwinds, to brass, to percussion, to strings. Be one with yourself and with all, his flesh and bones say. Be guider of steps, caresser of ears, filler of hearts. And they are. And he is… Melody.  

like the sun with blooms,
with his music, my lover
finger-feeding souls

photo by Jamille Queiroz, on Unsplash

- there are so many things to dislike (okay, to loathe) about the pandemic imposed isolation, but watching my Piano Man teaching from home is not one of them. 

- for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #54: New Dawn).

Of Hot Brews, Positive Stubbornness, and Other Yummy Things

not-quite Journaling, 4

A well-versed tongue
can give you wings.

1/10/21: I was going through my old stuff (I will be doing a lot of that this year), and this poem bit made me think of a recent exchange with a friend. We were discussing how important (and cleansing) talking/writing can be. And yes, I also snickered quite a bit at all the extra interesting interpretations this piece can arouse. 😁

1/13/2021: “An Uncrushed Flower”, crafted after someone told me that “positivity, in our times, is a nasty and condescending word”. I didn’t argue with them. Not because I didn’t think they weren’t wrong, but because I don’t particularly care for wasting my time or energy. I believe that no matter how hard things get (and goodness knows things have gotten hard for me a time or 13), I’ll always do what I can to find a way to make things better (and most of the time, I do find a way). Sadly, that isn’t something any person can teach to another—not if the one needing the learning has already chosen to dismiss the power of hope, of hard work, of endorphins, and of positive stubbornness. I hope today is good to you; and if it isn’t, I hope you fight to make it so.

brew, sip... sipped!
(a tasty tea tale
in winter)

1/15/2021: I could drink coffee all day. But since coffee all day might mean me awake all night, I have to delight in tea. Still, I lust after endless coffee... Maybe that is the reason why I enjoy brewing my tea in a Turkish coffee pot. 🤔

- for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #53: The Bicentenary of Anne Brontë’s Birth).

An Uncrushed Flower

If fate is all boot, and your roots
grow too strong and too deep
to transplant your Self
out its path (while remaining whole), be
an uncrushed flower.

If society is all storm, and human
decency is the only shield
keeping the world
from being torn (and turned hopeless),
be the peg that holds and wholes.

If most things have run fast
towards (certain) fracture,
fight to whole back.

Kintsugi Flower, by A4Lien
via

 - for Twiglet #209 (“hung from pegs”), and for Poets and Storytellers United (Weekly Scribblings #52: Something About Mary – where we’re asked to write poetry or prose inspired by Mary Oliver’s “Landscape”, I chose “the most fragile of flowers”).

Hints of Green in Winter (and Stuff…)

not-quite Journaling, 3

1/7/2021: This poem bit is my response to certain person (a supporter of the Orange Infection *cough*) who, while watching the madness that took place in The Capitol Building, had the cojones (actually, the ovaries) to say, “I don’t understand how things could get this bad.” I figured that sharing this stanza would be a lot nicer than shaking her, while screaming, “Seriously, woman! Under what rock have you been lying to yourself lately?” See? I’m nice. (Wish to read other minds’ thoughts on the topic? Visit my Instagram cyber-home (@guerrerowords) and check out the comments).

 green’s the prettiest
color in winter, a hint
of spring coming home

1/8/2021: Things are sprouting in the wee jungle that is my living room in winter (and I’m loving it!). There is a kind of wild, energy-giving magic that raises out of seed and soil our hands help grow into more. So, dear friends, what—plant, idea, person—have you helped “grow into more” lately? Other than you (and me), that is.

amaryllis (Jan 7, 2021)

 

 amaryllis (Dec 31, 2020)

 found in a nearby compost pile *cough*, so I am not quite sure of what it is.
It looks like a daffodil, though… Time will have to tell (Jan 7, 2021)

 
- for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #52: Year’s Beginning).

Unconditional Friendliness

Unconditional friendliness is an art:
a story you bleed,
a pause you write eternal,
a seed you feed,
soil you turn
rich (and real) with heart and brains.

- the blackout that birthed this poem bit was crafted some time ago. I can’t remember what exactly inspired it (most of my blackouts come after interactions). But at the end of last year, while I was going through some of my old pieces (and thinking up new ones), the idea of reclaiming friendliness/friendships (after 2020) came to mind. There was a lot of loss in that dreadful year… I wonder if we will have the heart and brains it takes to rebuild.

- and echoing the wise words of a writer friend (thank you, Chrissa!), “January (and the rest of 2021 will be) all about finishing drafts & keeping the monsters on the page.”

- for Twiglet #208 (“a long silence”), and Poets and Storytellers United (Weekly Scribblings #51: Looking Back and Writing Forward, “revisit our 2020 Weekly Scribblings selection, and write new poetry or prose using one of the prompts.” I chose Weekly Scribblings #43: Found Poems and Erasures).