Archives for posts with tag: rivers

seedlings

January 9, 2012 //
10

i should have plenty of muse these days. after all, i reached the holy grail! i chased that thing that i thought i needed and that would define the next chapter of my life. and i caught it. see, isn’t it gorgeous?

okay, now what?

i’ve written at least three “first posts of the new year” and haven’t published them. i haven’t published much of anything lately. probably won’t publish this. ha! and i haven’t been tweeting profound or comical #sixwords. haven’t been reading too many of the blogs i usually follow. i don’t think i’m depressed, just relatively uninspired. apathetic.

also in a way i feel like i’ve already written it. nothing seems new anymore. i think that’s the downside of knowledge & growth sometimes. unless the answers inspire more questions it seems almost pointless to come to any firm conclusions, at least from an artistic standpoint. and so i have to wonder if i’m just missing the new questions. am i ignoring them? have i forgotten how to listen?

submerged in a mire
obsessed, i sought every distraction…

i know expectations have stolen away some of the magic. expectations from others but mostly my own. i miss the anonymity of writing under pseudonym. i miss the fun and tragic necessity. now i find myself questioning the quality and interpretation of everything i write, so instead of posting i’m just putting them in “the vault.” if i even get that far.

so something has to change. i need new revelation. i need to write for me again. and i need to find that voice again. it’s too late to go back to writing anonymously, although that is very tempting. but that seems like a step backwards instead of forward. no, i think i need to continue my journey right here. i put my name on it so that i couldn’t run, and i won’t.

sorry, i don’t really have any optimistic & heartening words to start off 2012 with. i don’t have any beautiful dreams, tragic romance or painful humanity to paint for you today. and i might not for awhile.

i’m just a boy with an old raggedy leather-bound journal & a dull pencil. sometimes when i sit by the river i jot down words that bloom in my mind like mysterious seedlings, swept here by the wind, caught in a barely moist rocky cold place.

i hope it makes them feel pretty to find a home.
—

“hold on to everything you own that owns you too…”

by JTW
©2012 JTW “jtwhitaker.com” All rights reserved.

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Categories narrative

brick by brick

November 11, 2011 //
1

there’s a definite reason god gave man two legs & feet. life looks different standing upright, forward motion.

through small towns, on little stone sidewalks, i’m at home in west virginia. i will never stray from these ancient mountains and crystal waters for long.
–

i think i might have a project or two
something i need to write for me
and maybe for you

took a long time to get me here
had some ups & downs
two steps forward
now it’s near
getting clear

i’ve done some things that i can’t change
they happened long ago
lifetimes ago
built something i’d come to despise
down the road
but i came back again
to write some of that wrong
with love & with song

i might not undo all the damage
it’ll take a lot of work
but brick by brick
we’ll tear it all down
until we hit dirt

and that’s where the seed will be cast
—

“with our forgotten names…”

by JTW
©2011 JTW “jtwhitaker.com” All rights reserved.

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Categories lyrics, narrative, poetry

sponges

January 17, 2011 //
15

some days i wake up to find there is static on the line. unreconcilable sadness overtakes me when the click has faded to a barely audible echo. it’s funny how each time it happens i forget the remedy until after a few hours of fumbling around for answers to questions i can’t even articulate.

and then i remember: it’s out there. up there. where the air is purer, the water is clearer & the life isn’t old, it’s timeless. if you listen, they’ll even whisper to you.
–

at a very base level we’re sponges. we’re wrung & wrung, by everything around us and especially by people sometimes.

when you found me i had been wrung to a fraction of my natural capacity. cynical little bits rubbing off at the slightest jostling. and some of those fringes are too dead to revive. they’ll fall off as we move along.

but there is a stale moisture centered within that wants to be replenished. and if the trees have taught me anything, it is simply this: don’t take water for granted. when it’s there, soak it up.

so, no – i’m not afraid of it – thirst trumps fear. and there’s only one expectation; the foliage this spring will be a lush shade of green.
—

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“we’re somewhere in between…”

by JTW
©2011 JTW “jtwhitaker.com” All rights reserved.

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Categories narrative, slideshows
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