Samara Ennui – Haibun – November 6, 2018


I’m writing, doing what I’ve always dreamt of doing, I’m enthusiastic, I feel revitalized.  People are reading my work, liking it and giving me great suggestions that help me better my work, I feel part of a community … and then I don’t.

Sure, I’d had some bad moments recently in my life, but I kept up my writing and my photography kept on going but at a certain point, for no apparent reason, I found I hadn’t turned on my computer for months.  What happened?  Why did I stop?

I’ve always been a pretty creative sort of person, although not a creative genius.  Since I can remember I’ve always passed hours enjoying my painting, drawing and writing.  I easily pick up skills, I’m a quick study as they say, so I had no problems learning how to sew, crochet, sculpt, cook or whatever else came my way including learning anatomy and acupuncture meridians and points.  But, and there’s a big but, since puberty, I periodically go into more or less long periods of ennui.

I slip into a sort of limbo, where nothing seems very important to me at all.  I pass hours (days at a time) reading or watching TV series.  I do get out of bed because I abhor an unmade bed. I eat whatever is at hand (usually nothing particularly healthy) just as long as it’s quick and fills me up.  I don’t live in chaos, my house though not spotlessly clean is fairly orderly, I make sure of that because I hate being in a messy dirty place.  I drift through life, doing the minimum necessary to get through the day. Fortunately, as I’ve grown older, self-preservation has guaranteed that I keep a life-line open to the outside world.  I do have a couple of friends with whom I never lose contact with completely.

Then one day, something changes … I take a look at myself and my life and a tiny spark glitters.  It may take weeks or months but I become constantly more dissatisfied with drifting.  I realize that I’ve become overweight, that I haven’t done much of anything interesting for a long time, that I’m bored with my books and the TV.  I start looking into diets and exercise (just looking). I get the urge to write or sew myself a new outfit or paint a picture (just the urge).  I become frustrated and panicky. Then the looking around becomes watching what I eat and going for walks, joining a dance class and bicycling.  The urge becomes turning on the computer, looking through models for a new outfit, and choosing a great piece of material.  Usually at this point  my life has started to move again.

I don’t really know why this happens to me.  I’ve gone through analysis, I’ve meditated, I’ve had great mentors throughout my life who’ve stimulated me giving my life a sense of meaning … for a while anyway.  But eventually, there it is, the chasm of ennui into which I slip (not fall) and the cycle begins again. The drifting isn’t painful and I don’t even feel bored.  It’s when I move on, when I become aware that maybe there can be more to my life than books and TV,  the awakening, which is the painful part, fraught with anxiety and impatience to move on.

Have you or anyone you’ve known gone through this sort of thing?  I’d like to read about it, so please leave comments below and let me know.

winter snowflakes
passion gives way to
spring dawn
a never-ending cycle
my Samsara ennui



In a wind storm – Ghazal – April 9, 2015

Photo Credits: Kimerajam

Photo Credits: Kimerajam

She seeks butterflies in a wind storm
Lost in her own world in a wind storm.

In books and dreams she walks ever alone
Stumbling past obstacles in a wind storm.

Fragile and lonely unaware of what’s real
She walks blindly and sadly in a wind storm.

Birds cannot fly in this stormy blow
How can she walk on in a wind storm?

The world is crashing around her ears and yet
She seems not to notice she’s in a wind storm.

Sekhmet looks on this weary scene aghast
Wondering when she’ll see she’s in a wind storm.

© G.s.k. ‘15

MLMM – Photo Challenge – and – B&P’s Shadorma and Beyond

How does one write a Ghazal:

1. Every verse is a 2-line couplet, (unless you’re Robert Bly) with around 4 to 15 couplets in total.
2. Each line must contain the same number of syllables (in Arabic, they must be the same length we use syllables).
3. Every couplet ends in the same word(s) preceded by a rhyme.
The same repeating word(s) is/are called a radif, and the rhyme is called a qaafiya.
4. In the first couplet, both lines end with a qaafiya (rhyme) and radif (repeating word(s)).
5. Each verse is considered a separate mini-poem, so there is no need for any connection between couplets.
6. The last verse is traditionally a signature couplet in which you include your first or last name (or pen name).

Traditionally the preferred subject of a Ghazal is love …. though in our modern age it’s used for just about any subject.

Atman Depression – Tanka – April 5, 2015

accepting life’s burden
mother and wife
from the flower of life
realization of self

© G.s.k. 15

At Murano, there is a large glass sculpture of a woman … reading Chèvefeuille’s description of Krishna’s lesson to Arjuna about the perfect creature of creation, this came to mind!

Such a person, Krishna tells him, will have no desires at all. Since he is content within, having realized the Self, he is entirely free from desires. The consciousness of the Atman and abandonment of desires are simultaneous experiences. The various qualities of a Sthitaprajna (a stable-minded person) are described by the Lord. He will not be affected by adversity and will have no fear or anger. He will take things as they come, and will not have any likes and dislikes. He will neither hug the world nor hate it. The man of stable mind will have perfect control of the senses. The senses are powerful and draw the mind outwards. One should therefore turn one’s gaze within and realize God who resides in the heart. The Yogi, having achieved a stable mind, remains steadfast even though all sense-objects come to him. He is unmoved and lives a life of eternal peace.

Solace – August 29, 2014

In the hallowed hall of Bedlam,
The lady seemed to lie sleeping
Inside her crystal coffin
As the people looked on and sighed …

Wise men often pondered,
On her untimely passing:
What could have brought her solace
In her lonely hours of mourning?

The spiral of her depression
Took her into the deepest holes of sadness,
Veined with pitch black melancholy
Unrelieved by joyous laughter.

No answer have they found
That suits their somber query
For to prevent her daughter’s passing
In the same unhappy manner.

Red Wolf Poems: List of words as picked by Sabra and she’s picked one word each from last week’s poems submitted as follows:

Viv: hall
Abby: holes
Barbara: sleeping
Hannah: spiral
Rosyln: moment
Anya: dismissed
Debi: looked
Jules: suits
Irene: pondered
Laura: veined
Pat: solace

Reflections in Gray – Haibun

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAIt would be so easy.  Just sit back, put on a little music and then drift.  The weather is fantastic.  The sun somehow reminded him of the summer back in 1978…the Bee Gee’s music was big back then and his daughter Mary,  came into the world.

‘Staying Alive’, runs through his mind as he looks back at all the changes that have occurred since then.  Doesn’t even seem like the same planet at times.

“Hey Josh…What are you up to, buddy?” Kevin said.  He’d been jogging in the park when he caught sight of his old friend.

“Just sitting here thinking about how short life is, how things never stay the same, you know what I mean.”

“Sure, but that’s what makes life interesting, no?  The change I mean.  Something always new popping us, keeps me on my toes, kind of really aware that life is fantastic!   So, when will you know about Mary?”

“Stephen will give me a call this afternoon, the operation should be over by then.  I’m sure we’ll have good news.  Everything’s going to be ok!” he said it, but somewhere inside there was a little voice that whispered that things weren’t going to be ok.

It had been a long hard winter.  He’d lost his wife, his best friend had had a heart attack and now his daughter was being operated on for cancer.  He felt the bottle of pills in his pocket…it would be so easy.

time’s passing
the shadowy residue
colors life gray

Speakeasy #152

You must include the following sentence ANYWHERE within your submission: “It would be so easy.

Free Verse: Trial and Tribulation

Free Verse

Of trial and tribulation
I could write for you an ode
about the crazy nation
I live in and call abode…

If I were to think of trouble
I’d reflect upon the Fall
seems that all my problems double
when the cold begins to call…

I’m usually calm and collected
I don’t really get too upset
until someone decides I should be corrected
in my views as a neo suffragette.

My problems they are many
I’m getting old and achy
I don’t sleep too very much
and I sometimes get depressed.

My husband has his problems
nothing wrong with that
except he’s the type of person
who needs a beating post.

My sons are far away
My Mom fell down in the U.S.A.
and though I’d like to visit them
I just can’t get away.

I like to read and write
and I’d do it all day long
until my hubby huffs and moans
about the hours I’m “gone”.

I fall in love with people
that I’ve never ever seen
and when they disappear
I’m sad for weeks on end.

My car won’t work in winter,
my ears drums they have swollen
my back bone is a mess
my knees crunch and groan.

All this begins in the Fall
Everything just seems to get so dark
But there is a mercy somewhere
I’m sure I can find the light.

When winter finally shows its head
my mood starts to move upwards
It’s the feasting of the lights and trees
that gives me a charge of good cheer.

By the coming of the New Year
I’ve forgotten all my troubles
oh…everything is still there
my emotions have just moved on.

For: We Drink Because We are Poets Poetry prompt # 5

N.B. if this prompt had come say two weeks ago, the poem would be different and more somber…but my mood has taken an upward swing and I can’t get into the emotions tied to the trials and tribulations of those last few weeks.

Mag 196 – Kyrielle Sonnet: Black Angel

Mag 196

wings 5

Kyrielle Sonnet (variation 6 syllables)

Black Angel

Dark angel of the night
Black wings ready for flight,
Temptress, lady of sleep…
Come now my heart to reap!

I dream, so see her face,
Lovely and full of grace.
Yet tears I’ll surely weep.
My heart is hers to keep.

Alas, sad cold morning!
You came without warning!
I long to be asleep…
For need of her is deep.

Dark angel of the night
My heart is hers to keep.

magpie tales statue stamp 185


1) Write a poem or short vignette using the picture featured in this post as your inspiration. Feel free to take the image to use for your post.

2) Link back to Magpie Tales from your post.

3) Sign up in the Mr. Linky list, linking directly to your post, AFTER you’ve posted.

Free Verse: no title

first lightFree Verse

no title

life’s darkness
walking along a path
that leads to nowhere
wondering why I took it
wondering how to leave it
and yet, I walk on
day after lonely day
with a few sunbeams
to break the somber fog
that wraps me in its
cold shroud…
and if I should stop?
just refuse to walk?
lay upon my bed
and say…this is the end?
I wonder,
who would care?
Yet I walk on
always thinking
of sunbeams
that penetrate
the darkest nights
and I with Ra
decide to rise
to walk the path
that I chose,
yet another day
looking for the fork
that will lead to
better days.

This is also for: NaBloPoMo and PoBlaNo Day 28!






Quatern: Black and White World


Black and White World

Tired…I want a black and white world.
Without angry passionate reds!
Gone forever dark blue sadness!
Hide from me the green of envy!

A life without shades of somber grey,
Tired…I want a black and white world.
Gone those saturated contrasts,
Give me a world of neutral tones.

A world of unified belief,
Without strife, war and injured grief.
Tired…I want a black and white world.
Of common goals and forbearance.

I’m weary of this mortal coil,
And lest I soon should look away,
I feel that I must surely expire!
Tired…I want a black and white world.

For Black and White Friday