Returning to my creative roots

I create content for a living, both writing and producing video content, so it has been almost two decades since I’ve done any creative writing. My father has written poetry his entire life, so I was encouraged by him to keep up my creative writing as a hobby, but life happens, and the pen was put aside as the bills stacked up, and I’ve had a second job for most of my professional career.

I try to journal to help with my anxiety, but the creative output has decreased considerably since I started getting paid to write. I think returning to writing creatively will also help ease my anxiety ~ I prefer natural methods over medications whenever possible.

All photos were taken by me on vacation, or on local jaunts around Atlanta.

Calm Alone
Clamoring in the quiet calm
Solitude surrounding
Drifting dangerously to the dread
Restless in the realm of ruins.

Sweetwater Creek Park, Georgia

The orange in the sky burns like a candle
Setting softly into the rocks beneath it
So it can rise again to meet the coming day.
I nestle into my bed, relenting to its relaxing fingers
letting it knead my aching body
Preparing me for the next day, painful as it may be.
We both sink into the day’s end,
Grateful that it is over, that I don’t have to face more.
But then the rising orange reminds me
That I must trudge into another day.

Sun setting on the shores of Mt Desert Narrows, Maine

Stars in Dreams
I found myself reaching for the stars
That shone high above in the dark.
When those stars finally fell into my arms
I thought I was lost forever.
Left behind with my dreams realized
What more can I ask for?

Sun setting over Oakland Cemetery, Atlanta

Star Lyrics
It is the pang of separation that spreads
Throughout the world and
Gives birth to shapes innumerable in the infinite sky.
It is the sorrow of separation that gazes in silence
All night from start to star and becomes lyrics
Among rustling leaves in rainy darkness of July.
It is this overwhelming pain that deepens into
Love and desires, into sufferings and joy in hearts
And it this that ever melts and flows into songs
Thought my poet’s heart.

Denali National Park, Alaska

Cynicism and Disdain

We were wandering, lost all hope for love
For this world we live in is so desolate
Everyone lives in their bubble, alone.
We came from separate corners of the world
Our lives were as different as night and day
But we lived as one before we knew each other
We traverse depths of ice blue oceans
Over steep and jagged mountains and canyons
We looked at the same storms and sunrises
Before long, we looked in each other’s eyes
And we saw that true love existed after all

Black River, Jamaica

First Love

I am near the top. The view from such a height is exhilarating. To observe the humans wandering about in a detached mood; to discern these people as if they were army ants, leading the perfunctory life following the building of their castle. Each individual walks in his own manner. One man with long, entangling wisps of gold floating around his face looks dreamily at a woman.

She glides along the sidewalk as if she were a cloud of heaven, stopping momentarily to gaze at a marvel of nature-a slender blade of grass, a smiling flower, a stately oak. She walks up the wide, white steps with a graceful ease and plunks her back against mine.

Her face is heart-shaped, her hair the color of spun gold. The man at the bottom of the steps is still staring at her, as if she were a marble statue caressed by the elegant hands of Rodin. Her features could be on any woman, but the aura about her makes me want to suck in every part of her body.

She turns around to face me. She traces every detail on the lower part of my body. I sit on a large, concrete pedestal feeling her long, lusty limbs kiss my smooth, white features. She looks up at my symmetrically carved face, memorizing every detail of my visage.

She stretches her arms high, revealing a soft stomach that whispers beauty. She reaches as far as she can and draws her fingers down my back, melting me like ice cubes in this hot, scorching sun.

She then rises and leaves me for our brief encounter of love. I can compare her to the sun, as a bright, radiant body of the universe that sheds life on all other beings in her universe. Her personality was an unknown frontier, but with her beauty, she could conquer any beast, even with the most menacing attitude.

She took one last look at me, gazing lustily, and walked away, never to see me again. She became my first love. I promised never to look at another woman as I did at this dazzling sight. But then, what would I know about a human emotion? After all, I am just a stately column supporting the Rotunda.

Column supporting Holmes-Hunter Academic Building, Athens, Georgia

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