The Enthusiasm Wagon…

The tomatoes are growing!

Here we are again, it’s Monday, the sun is shining, every reason to feel optimistic…

But I don’t. Somehow, I fell off the enthusiasm wagon over the weekend. Not sure why, for there didn’t seem to be a reason. Maybe I just needed to chill out for a bit.

Trouble is, today, I can’t seem to find that bloody wagon!

I have been feeling a little uneasy lately, but nothing I could put my finger on. Just enough to make my thoughts wander. I need to be more organised, have more work scheduled, already written, that sort of thing. This simply must happen if we want to move on, or up in the writing world.

Marketing has been a bit of a non-entity this year, and for the life of me, I cannot remember when it stopped being at the top of our must-do list! These days there are so many things going on, it has become difficult to string several thoughts together in order to trigger the creative process.

Apart from the garden, which does see me occasionally. More duty than inspirational though, despite managing to grow our first tomatoes, as they must be watered. But for those few minutes, as I wander around spraying water, something magical happens and I come back inside in a much better mood.

Sunflowers

Now the weather is getting warmer, I think I will be working/writing outside. I’m not sure if this is where the enthusiasm wagon is parked, but it’s definitely not in my office!

Jaye

Quiet

Jane Dougherty Writes

Today, two of the children were visiting, bringing their talk and laughter. It was a day of chatting of everything and nothing, of singing and laughing and playing with dogs and cats, of walking up through the fields on tracks left by the harvesters following scents and listening to the quiet.

Some things I never tire of, the birds, the sky, walking with the ones I care about, and listening to the world turning slowly on its axis beneath the sun and the stars.

There’s a song thrush singing in the poplars
as the sun goes down,
and the willows are full of warblers
with a few last quiet words.
The sky’s adrift with cloud boats,
grey-hulled with sails of white,
and the blackbirds croon a lullaby
to resign us to the night.

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My Mountain

purplepeninportland

Written for:  Sunday Muse #217

On this mountain,
magical moments
take place.  No one
else knows about
this space.  Just me.
One night I was able
to swim across  
the night sky. Didn't
tell anyone.  Tonight
the moon is full
of smiles.  I am
catching moonbeams
on my magical mountain.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

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Today’s Quote

Soul Gatherings

Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom.

~ Hermann Hesse ~

____________

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Today’s Quote

Soul Gatherings

Everything happens to everybody sooner or later

if there is time enough.

~ George Bernard Shaw ~

_______________

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The color of Love

House of Heart

In the alcove she sips dark coffee, her eyes sting from cigarette smoke permeating the cafe. Still she is compelled to search the tree lined boulevard where branches become hawks, their whistling wings a silky blue. Few faces can be seen theough the mist but the sweet language of lovers fill the air.
Submerged in those warm sighs soundless tears overflow in silvery streaks.
He gently tastes the salt on her lips, still burning from the kiss of yesterday’s lover. Sweet blossoms leave a crush of salt on his tongue. The splendor of her thighs, the shape of her milky white breasts is a dim memory now.
Without a goodbye a rose is placed into her open palm to fade over time like the color of love.

Gustav Klimt

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Amazing Nature . . . Rare beauty

What Should I Post Today?

Story Empire

Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash

Hi SEers. John with you today.

When I considered what to write about, I thought of several things. After taking a tour of some of the topics, my fellow members had scheduled, it became very obvious most of the erudite subjects had already been taken. I was also surprised to see that most of our group’s genius members already have their posts scheduled for the month.

Of course, you are looking at the work of one who doesn’t know from one day to the next what will be written. I am the pantster’s pantster. As a result of such a libertine approach to writing, each month brings me to the edge of sanity as I stare into the abyss of the unknown about what subject to write for Story Empire. I call this situation the “stare ball.” At times like these, I would just…

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