Almost Out of The Sky

I wanted to get my Masters Degree.

Little did I know life would happen seemingly at once.

Start a new job, no two.

Put guilt aside to read and write because

now you’ve been assigned.

So much to do, so little time.

How to find the liberty when all they do is whine.


Neglecting my blog was not a conscious choice.  Ever since I accepted my admittance into the Master’s Program for Creative Writing, my life has been dedicated to writing some and reading a whole lot.  I gave up my day job as a stay-at-home mom at the very same time that I decided to go back to school and start two part-time jobs.  It was “almost out of the sky” that my life took a jarring turn towards chaos.

I made the exerted effort this evening to sit down for a few minutes and get my thoughts on paper.  Writing is cathartic and I haven’t written a single creative word on paper in over two months.  At a seminar on poetry today, I had the opportunity to write a few poems for the first time since High School.  Below are my thoughts on that, followed by the two poems I wrote during the seminar.  I took a collective 15 minutes to write all three of these poems so they aren’t meant to be perfect.  They are simply imperfect ideas that I’ve been gifted the opportunity to share.


Flirting with the idea of writing poems,

Brave, I am not.

Asked to put my thoughts to paper,

Choice, I have not.

Putting fears aside,

Have a little trust.

Sometimes we surprise ourselves

When the opportunities arise.


>>Playing a game of steal a line, write a line…stealing the first and last line from Pablo Neruda’s Almost Out of the Sky.<<

Almost out of the sky half of the moon

shines bright like morning light.

The stars line the dark night sky,

illuminating the unknown depths.

Our world’s greatest fears.


The sun is the giver of life,

the moon just reflecting.

What may our fears look like

without a mirror shining back?

Help me to open my heart

and mind to a world unknown.


The mirror shatters, my pieces scattered on the floor.

No love lost, just glass.

Who are we really,

but the mere perception of reality?

Imagined today, gone tomorrow,

with their eyes open through the dew. 


Using the idea of repetition and odd language choice:

I want to believe that life is as grand as you,

that sweetness is not only that which touches my lips.

I want to believe that there is more to life,

that tomorrow will matter.

I want to believe that you need me as much as I need you,

that solitude is the pure essence of the soul.

Today, tomorrow, and forever,

the need to believe in you.


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