Is it just the transition from summer to fall that makes me feel as if I’m swimming underwater? Rather, it’s too thick, too heavy, too opaque to be water, more like a bisque. Maybe it’s just that I’m no longer working on my novel every day. I’m waiting for more feedback before final edits. Maybe that’s it, the waiting.
I would like to start on a new novel, but I don’t have the idea for that yet. I was halfway through a flash piece, when my inspiration flew south.
I could be cleaning my house. I’m a dinosaur who still does fall and spring cleaning, and my mother and youngest sister are coming to visit in about a month. But I can’t get my mind in gear for that.
Suspended animation, 
a deep daydream,
not quite here,
nowhere else,
not enough light,
on the edge of sleep,
I am
a yawn
a ho-hum
an ennui,
I am
listening.
Linda Cassidy Lewis 
Did I warn you that poetry is addictive?
Especially for expressing complex themes, which you did well. 🙂
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Thank you. It sort of crept up on me while I wrote that post. Accidental poetry, I guess.
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The picture is a perfect companion to your post. I hope your water soon clears.
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Ann, sometimes you come across some amazing things in the murky water, too.
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I agree, the picture and poem complement each other perfectly, and the mood of the poem is powerful.
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The poem was easy, but I had to resort to Photoshop manipulation to get the photo. It reminds me of the many mermaid dreams I used to have.
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Ô my, is there a doctor in the house?
You seemed to be completly lost in this strange country: Between one or two novel…
It’s turn out into a wonderful poem. A wonderful way to take a break and experience new road.
I know I am not at the right post, but I had read and try this logiciel for writers you proposed, earlier (yWriter). It’s turn out completly bizarre…
Instead, I have rewrite my Excel file for sceenwriting. The caracter part have been so update that after all the basic work, is turn out into a short story, in french, of course.
I didn’t mean at the beginning to do so. For now, I couldn’t imagine working on a new novel or short story without all this funny exercice.
So, Is there a doctor in the house for us, poor writers? Nobody beleeve us when we said we are working 24 hours a day, 7 days in a week…
May be we should have another party at your house…
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Yes, Mireille, it seems one thing does lead to another sometimes. Like this post that I didn’t intend to end with a poem, it just sort of happened.
Another party? Oh my, I’m not sure I dare. 🙂
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Linda I loved the poem. Bask in your bisque.
Lounge on your Laurels. Eeek pleasure from your ennui.
Try playing pomp and circumstance for a couple of days around the house ….maybe it’ll get you to the bittersweet transition point you’re looking for.
And know…as things end they just begin again…..
Hugs honey!
Karen :0)
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Oh yes, Karen, there is no end. I read a blogger recently say they had been to a wedding and a funeral in the same week and cried at both, and I thought, of course, we cry at beginnings and endings because they are the same thing. And now I hear Journey singing Wheel in the Sky ….
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