Standing in the light
Magic soars through vocal chords
It's where I belong
taking the stage - soft
feathers float in space above
- light dances with us
- over and out -
Work today has been rough. I've been having a pretty "Bi-Polar" relationship with my job for the past year (Up and Down Mood Swings). Lately though, despite paycuts and general unhappiness, I had been in the midst of an upward swing. Unfortunately today I was told that the one person that could have kept our company afloat is leaving, and with that news, my good mood left too. Now I've been staring at my work screen and wondering what to do (both in terms of job and the work I'm supposed to be accomplishing). I know I need to leave this dead end job, and I've known this for a long time, but I just hate having the fact reinforced so blatantly.
So since I'm getting ready to start up the job search, I've written a couple of haikus to commemorate the occasion.
Bob (by me)
Bob can be happy
With only baseball and beer
Why do I need more?
The Hunt (by me)
I am now convinced
The greatest of Grimm's fables
Is the perfect job.
And because I've been feeling a little lost all day, I thought I'd include "Instructions" by Neil Gaiman in today's post. The poem was recently made into a picture book with illustrations by Charles Vess, and it's definitely worth picking up. The illustrations are beautiful and you can purchase it on Amazon here.
Instructions (by Neil Gaiman)
Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never
saw before.
Say "please" before you open the latch,
go through,
walk down the path.
A red metal imp hangs from the green-painted
front door,
as a knocker,
do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.
Walk through the house. Take nothing. Eat
nothing.
However, if any creature tells you that it hungers,
feed it.
If it tells you that it is dirty,
clean it.
If it cries to you that it hurts,
if you can,
ease its pain.
From the back garden you will be able to see the
wild wood.
The deep well you walk past leads to Winter's
realm;
there is another land at the bottom of it.
If you turn around here,
you can walk back, safely;
you will lose no face. I will think no less of you.
Once through the garden you will be in the
wood.
The trees are old. Eyes peer from the under-
growth.
Beneath a twisted oak sits an old woman. She
may ask for something;
give it to her. She
will point the way to the castle.
Inside it are three princesses.
Do not trust the youngest. Walk on.
In the clearing beyond the castle the twelve
months sit about a fire,
warming their feet, exchanging tales.
They may do favors for you, if you are polite.
You may pick strawberries in December's frost.
Trust the wolves, but do not tell them where
you are going.
The river can be crossed by the ferry. The ferry-
man will take you.
(The answer to his question is this:
If he hands the oar to his passenger, he will be free to
leave the boat.
Only tell him this from a safe distance.)
If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.
Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that
witches are often betrayed by their appetites;
dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;
hearts can be well-hidden,
and you betray them with your tongue.
Do not be jealous of your sister.
Know that diamonds and roses
are as uncomfortable when they tumble from
one's lips as toads and frogs:
colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.
Remember your name.
Do not lose hope - what you seek will be found.
Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped
to help you in their turn.
Trust dreams.
Trust your heart, and trust your story.
When you come back, return the way you came.
Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.
Do not forget your manners.
Do not look back.
Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).
Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).
Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).
There is a worm at the heart of the tower; that is
why it will not stand.
When you reach the little house, the place your
journey started,
you will recognize it, although it will seem
much smaller than you remember.
Walk up the path, and through the garden gate
you never saw before but once.
And then go home. Or make a home.
And rest.
I have always loved the line about "Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall). Ride the silver fish (you will not drown). Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur)." How wonderful it would be to have my own guidebook and a reassuring voice in life right about now.
Anyone else in need of some guidance lately, and have you had any luck finding it?
-Over and out-
Another Tuesday is happening as we speak, and that means more Haikus for your viewing pleasure. I’m also linking over to one of Jeanne’s recent posts on her blog Necromancy Never Pays. She has a really excellent poem posted there, and it is just plain awesome.
So without further ado, Haikuesday awaits:
Chorus Rehearsal (by me)
We sang – danced - chatted
Hugged and laughed and made mistakes
Last night at practice
Learning Choral-ography
Right arm first, then Rock
Bounce right, and try to avoid
a hit in the face
Please head over there and read the excellent poem: Such Sweet Sorrow - by Ethan Coen
- Over and Out -
Another Haikuesday is here and I am totally unprepared, but because I’d hate to disappoint my faithful blog readers (I know there are at least a few of you), here are a few hastily compiled poems for today.
Nothing better than
Drinking beer & grilling dogs
Thank God for baseball
GB (by me)*
When they play Garth Brooks
During the fourth pitching change
You have likely lost
Blood on the Ground (by me)**
His nose has been punched
He yells, “There is the fucker”
Blood drips on pavement
early morning…
cool shadows in the stands
of the small ballfield
bottom of the 8th
eight determined drunks
get the wave going
