Daily Archives: September 19, 2013
Blogtember Catching Up – Love Letter
Interviews, Poems and Lunch
This morning’s interview seemed to go well (fingers crossed), love it when perfect fit opportunities come my way… maybe it is the start of things going right, that would be a deserved reward!
It is true what they say- positive thoughts and positive thinking bring other things into your world to be positive about. Having said that I noticed as I got out of the car someone has scraped my bumper and left a nifty gash, a lorry driver came to the door the other day and asked me to move my car over – looks like he may have a crashing attempt first – although I would have expected a bigger impact from a HGV. Maybe it was just a neighbour or parent on a school run. Run they have. That’s the front and back now that have been attacked and left! GRRRRR ….
Today I am having the rare treat of lunch with Mr G – we were supposed to be planting tulips but the rain may dampen our plans (see what I did there?).
I am also scheduled to write and submit poetry which according to my self imposed action plan should already have been submitted! I have joined the local Stanza group and prepared a poem this morning to take to my 1st meeting tomorrow. Butterflies. But I know it will great and I will come home packed with the same adrenalin as last weekend and it is a good test to see whether members of the Poetry Society agree with me about the quality of my writing.
So an evening of words lies ahead of me. There was a meeting for a local Literature Festival I hoped to attend in the city later, it doesn’t seem that it will be on the cards. This morning has already zapped me of strength and energy!
And there was a POETRY FLASHMOB which I really liked the sound of today. It happened 10 minutes ago in Central England, would have loved to be a part of it am hoping there is some sort of footage available online. This was to mark the opening of a Poetry Festival. Poor things will be wet now after that stunt. Hope they had a good turn out.
I slide my sore feet out of their imprisoned status,
Tight and unforgiving.
out of interview clothes.
The restrictive lines,
The brightly coloured image
of an arty creative
covered up by formal black.
Painted smile released
as I drag denim over my legs,
the comfort of a big, winter jumper
drops over my head.
I look into the mirror