Tag Archives: Writing

Where have you gone, Joe?

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Been quiet here lately. It’s just been that kind of summer. Yesterday saw Kerri and I say farewell to Marriage Actually, the last b5media blog on which either of us were writing. It’s been a fun time. Hard to believe it’s been nearly 2-1/2 years since I first sold them on the idea of a blog about Baldness.

Let’s see… as a sensitive, post-modern kind of guy, it seems I should be appropriately retrospective in this moment. So, what did I learn?

  • Getting paid to write is fun.
  • There is a difference between being into something and being able to write regularly about it.
  • Virtual business relationships are here to stay, but there is still something missing from face-to-face and even voice interaction.
  • I met a number of cool and interesting folks.

There. That seems appropriate.

I wish b5media and its bloggers all the success in the world. Perhaps the future will bring me back their way again sometime.

Meanwhile, I wonder how else I can get paid to write…

Poem: Short Break

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In the long days of August
The plants grow
And we slow
Frozen by the heat of summer sun

Honey memories
Of car trips to grandma’s house
Are slowly sipped with sweet tea
As sweat runs down the side of our glasses
And our cheeks

We breathe in still air
And slowly rise into the clouds
Caught in the web of a mid-afternoon nap
While the children dance in the sprinkler
Toes and water droplets pitter-patter
Splash on the steamy concrete

Sweetest Moon of Fairest June

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Sweetest Moon of fairest June,
I watch thee as ye shine
Amidst the sun that is not done
At this the Solstice time.

Orb so pale, a-lit so frail,
Robbed of night to play;
Defiantly refuse to flee
And sneak in on day.

Leave stars behind in summertime;
The night is theirs for now.
The bold blue sky is yours to try
‘Til farmer comes to plow.

For half-score weeks Night’s Orb speaks
and warms the souls of men.
When Autumn comes, she’ll be done
and dwell in dark again.

Holy Sonnet II

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Oh, would that I, my own name rejecting,
Be called upon to serve You ever more.
Such toil, indeed, is beyond my reck’ning;
The most arduous tasks, they be not chores,
For the sweat of labour, it does turn sweet.
I, Thy bidding, do only all my days,
And though my muscles ache, I am not weak;
Thou dost grant me life by Thy merest gaze.
Dwelling at Your side, waiting at Your feet,
Would fill my measure, making life complete.

(Don’t bother looking here for Sonnet I. I wrote it, lost it, and have only been able to recall the first line. So, I’m reserving a spot should I ever find or remember it.)

Poem: For Those in the Midst of the Ordinary

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I’m up early, having given Luke a bottle, and I thought I would try to blog before heading off to work. It’s not turning out to be so easy. I’m out of the habit, and I don’t feel like I have anything to say. Life has not been particularly eventful (trip to the hospital aside), but it has been full: Full of children, family, work, and home. Full of the ordinary. Those occasional moments of emptiness have made way for a crossword with Kerri, not blogging.

Not that I feel bad for any of this. It is, however, a bit odd. I look back, and I know my mind has been turning. I’ve been reading and thinking. I just don’t have anything to show for it here. (At least not now.)

I know what I’ll do. I’ll offer a prayer and a poem:

For those in the midst of the ordinary,

Those whose days are bound up in the mundane,

I have neither the wisdom to explain

Nor pow’r to alter. With you I tarry.

With you I sit. Common scenes pass our eyes,

and well-worn phrases pass between our lips.

‘Tis same, walking this path of many trips

‘Til sun sets. And when ‘morrow sun does rise,

We walk and speak just as we did before,

Common days and common lives lived once more.

RCL: Year A: Fourth Sunday of Easter

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[This week's Lectionary readings]

Holy Sonnet VI

Oh, would that I might harken to your voice,
Coming swiftly when you call for your sheep:
My fear subdued; my doubt assuaged; the choice
Of path made for me. In dark night you keep
Me safe; your side, shelter from storm and beast.
And should I wander to some far off place,
You, with purest sight will seek me, the least
of your flock. Drawing near you give glad chase.
Back home I rest peacefully in cool shade
Lapping living water, munching sweet jade.