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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/nordicnoir/day/2-17-2021
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by Ned Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Book · Entertainment · #2199980
Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life.
I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance?

I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them.

Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog.




February 17, 2021 at 8:20am
February 17, 2021 at 8:20am
#1004666
I am still on my first cup of coffee. There is, in the small oven, something that might be a keto bagel. We'll see. Just wanted something different today and I had the dough already made and refrigerated .

I don't know how long it takes to bake, so I will have to keep checking it and hope some ideas pop into my head that are worthy of writing down in my blog entry.

Blogs are not Facebook, after all, and are meant to contain more than just a chronicle of one's daily attempts at cookery.

Perhaps there is some excuse in that I am forcing myself to write in my blog every day as a kind of exercise. Or punishment. Or torture. All the same thing, really.

This is my second week of keeping the commitment to blog. I haven't written down the other commitments which make them harder to track or to be held accountable for. But I did hope to write more poetry, do a few contests, etc., and I am just not managing it. I think that I expect more inspiration but sometimes that is what the poet must provide and it can only be found within, not in the prompt or the photo.

Wow, that's depressing. I wonder if I am that empty right now?


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/nordicnoir/day/2-17-2021