Fragment Friday: Haunted

Fragments of last night's pain
haunt my mind,
as I as the important question:
What did I eat
to cause this episode?

The pain was so bad that I could not sit at the computer so I logged out and went to bed early. When I lay down I curled in the fetal position because that usually helps when one of these episodes occurs. It helped a little, but not very much. I finally gave up, sit up, opened my prayer book, and said the long healing prayer. That helps because after I finished the prayer I was able to lay down without difficulty.

Fragments of last night's pain
haunt my memory,
now the question arises:
How can I feel so good this morning
when I was in such pain last night?

Fragment Friday: Spring Fever and Scattered Thoughts

I am still suffering from the bout of spring fever I caught on Tuesday. I recovered from it a little bit yesterday after I paid the rent and went to the gym, but it is back with a vengeance today. The cloud cover seems to have made matters worse and me more depressed.

This afternoon my thoughts are scattered, roaming over several different subjects with no focus. I listen to the noise of happy children or young people playing outside.  I remember my youth when I did not have a care in the world. I remember days of joy when I played and laughed with my friends and siblings. It seems like only yesterday when I played chase or hide-and-seek, but it was decades ago and states away. I smile wistfully remembering those happy carefree days.

I am still suffering from spring fever, my thoughts are scattered, and unfocused. I should have gone to the gym or to the laundromat today, but their is no use shoulding on myself this late in the afternoon. The sun is sitting and I have no desire to go to the laundromat when I know I will return home after dark. I will go on Sunday morning.

Friday afternoon
a cloudy day in Vegas
dreaming of childhood

Fragment Friday: Morning Writing is Easier

Morning writing is easier
the line fragments
like soldiers on parade
march across the page
forming stanzas,
with little difficulty.

Afternoon writing is a test
the line fragments
are battalions on a battlefield
scattered across
a thousand mile battle front
separated by barbed wire
and pinned down in trenches
by the advancing enemy.

Fragment Friday: What Movies do I want to see?

Fragments of thought,
like images on a movie screen,
roll through my mind.

The question I need to answer today "When was the last time I went to a movie?" Thinking back over the last several years, I realize the last movie I saw (not counting movies on television) was seven to ten years ago.

I want to see a movie.
I want to sit in a theater
eating popcorn
and watch actors on the screen.

What movies do I want to see in 2014? How many of these movies can I afford to see in 2014?
1. Divergence
2. Muppets Most Wanted
3. Transcendence
4. Godzilla
5. Guardians of the Galaxy
6. Dracula Untold
7. Interstellar
8. The Hobbit: There and Back Again
9. Noah

Fragment Friday: Before my first cup of Coffee

Before my first cup of coffee
thought fragments
flash though my mind;
unfocused ideas
waiting for me to write
them in black ink
on a white page.

I check the clock
has an hour passed
since I took the thyroid medication?

No!

I sigh,
I go to the coffee maker,
and prepare to brew coffee
knowing that
by the time it is finished
I can have a hot cup.

Fragment Friday: Thoughts on writing poetry

Thought 1:

It's Friday,
I picked up my coffee cup
to take sip
and realized it was empty.

Thought 2:

As I walked back to the computer
carrying a hot cup of coffee,
it dawned on me
that I have several poems started
that aren't finished.

Thought 3:

 Hours kissing winter souvenirs
Hopes fingers
Snow downpour
...Where do I go from here?

Thought 4:

Summer rain reflects mountains
Twilight hidden catastrophes
...How do I finish this?

Thought 5:

Autumn singing changed houses
Solitary beauty
...Does this have haiku potential?

Thought 6:

Strange lilies insane music
Whispering superstitions
...Is this an exercise in procrastination?

Thought 7:

Roses dream invisible premonitions
The spoken word cannot convey the subtleties
Something is lost in the translation
The nuances of silence
...When did I begin this poem?