Musings, Poetry, Writing

September Swimming

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, murkyswim
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

17 thoughts on “September Swimming”

  1. 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…


    1. 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. 🙂


  2. 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)


    1. 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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