Life and other things.

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.

Whole Words – Poetry

Whole Words

By J. A. Weymouth

There is a lonely man who ponders still

That crazy hoax that is beyond, near all

Of contemplation and sour thrill

The experience of many: the advanced scrawl.

 

The energy draws back in uneasy steps

Trailing inwards and coiling your insides

Quickening with horrid, trepid missteps

The look received fools and divides.

 

It is the poet who sees those naked eyes

Wandering over many matching reflections

Their quiet tastes of the idea standing by

Of all that fails those contemplative questions.

 

Who is the poet? Is that the man or the deer?

That doe-eyed look of words that do come forth

Sprung up beneath or beyond that higher seer

Come from unwavering lengths of tender thought.

 

It is like this equivalence, this treasured creativity

That is beyond all of me and my soul

These words are not mine, simply pure proclivity

From an un-tranquil mind in need to become whole.

Ink – Poetry

Ink

By J.A. Weymouth

 

Damn it all the eye that sees

Past.

A crying pain, a sinking hope. Lost now

 

The modern feeling is beyond all me.

 

A touch of a sinking age, now

Beyond.

And always through a pictured

Lover.

 

Her legs spread for an insurance add.

 

Oh screaming children who cry against,

The elder men and women. No gold for these

Wrinkled eyes.

 

No respect for the elderly.

 

No handicapped ear.

 

And what form do you have? For a stamp.

Or a dollar?

 

No print can remember us.