A Comfy Kind Of Restless

Hello 😊

I am a bit late this week with a post, time has marched ahead of me as usual. I hope you all had a good weekend?

The poems I am going to share today both came from my dabblings with the Randomlists generator on the 21^st, in my writing session after my last post.  The first poem floated up after listening to some Mindvalley talks on YouTube (especially by Vishen Lakhiani) and the second just popped into my head from the words I was presented with, as often happens.   

I hope you enjoy them 😊

 

 

 

 

Prefer   Beg   Massive   Library   Stretch   Donkey   Guiltless   Sisters   Story

 

I prefer to meditate,

Then I feel I do not have to beg

For inspiration.

 

Instead, I am handed it

From the massive library of human consciousness –

Melded together in a new form

That seems a stretch for my mind.

 

But it is really the universe

That does the donkey work.

 

And I can sit here:

Revered and yet guiltless of fraud,

Pulled in the right directions

By a force greater than any of us.

 

Come, my soul sisters and brothers,

Let my story wash over you

And bid you strive for greater things.

 

 

 

 

 

Volleyball   Sheet   Calm   Jam   Lush   Injure   Collect   Next   Tempt

 

The smell of the ink

Made me think of long-ago Sundays

With my dad propped against the sun lounger

Hiding from our games of volleyball;

Turning each smudged sheet

While cultivating calm.

 

I would keep him company sometimes,

Dribbling strawberry jam

Down my t-shirts

While he pointed out the best football players

Or read to me a bit.

 

Our un-lush grass

Would see me injure myself a lot:

The smallest body

Jumping for the ball.

 

He would collect up my limbs,

Count them theatrically

And put me down next to him;

Tempt my smiles back

With sweet treats or songs.

 

It doesn’t matter how old I get,

Those memories keep me whole.

 

* WordPress seems to be messing about with the size and position of my images today, but hopefully you get the idea…

 

[additional pics are from Pixabay, here and here]

 

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Copyright © 2019  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hello!

Sometimes, I feel the random word generators I use forget about the chaos they are supposed to be subjected to and just push trope offerings directly into my brain instead.

Today I thought I’d share two crime poems I was ‘handed’ over the last week or so:

Fuss  Rung  Excavate  Evolutionary  Cemetery   Choke   Position   Slab   Demonstrator

 

Now, don’t make a fuss:

I’ve already rung and asked them to excavate

That revolutionary new build

I am quite sure you are also using

As a makeshift cemetery.

 

Did you think it’d really work?

That you could lure me here,

Choke my last breath from me,

And just position me under another slab

Like it appears you did to every other demonstrator of integrity

That ever complicated your plans…?

 

 

 

 

Sharp   Pistol   Electric   Block   Diplomat   Circle   Tiny   Sink   Limousine

 

The sharp pain said:

“Ouch! Pistol-whipped head!!”

I did not attack

Cos the world went black.

 

Bright electric light

Served to block my sight

When I came back to;

I didn’t see who

The – diplomat – was

Labouring his cause.

 

That circle of pain

Still my main complaint:

Some tiny, sick breaths

To control my stress…

 

When that hand came near

I moved through the fear

Felt my teeth sink in

And…

Adrenalin…

 

Broke the flimsy chair,

Spoilt his gelled up hair,

Untied both my wrists

Let fly with my fists.

 

Lackeys stood no chance

As my rage advanced.

 

Then I fled that scene

In their limousine.

 

I see the first piece as a Jessica Fletcher from Murder She Wrote scenario, and the second more as a Michael Westen from Burn Notice type scrape to get into?!  

What TV programmes did they make you think of? Let me know in the comments 😉

 

 

[Last pic is from here]

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Copyright © 2019  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hi!

Last night I wrote four pieces using random words, and the following was my favourite. Hubby says that it is basically a sketch. I have laid it out like a poem, but given the female speaker dark red text and the male blue. That way you can decide what it is for yourself, while still being able to follow it 😉

 

 

sweater, advertise, humor, basin, bend, location, Mars, bomb, Europe

 

It’s that sweater they advertise –

You know the one –

With the woman who has no sense of humor

But the guy is trying to cheer her up

And puts the basin on his head and pretends to be Oliver Hardy?

Who…?

Aww you know!? One of those black n white funny guys –

Like Charlie Chaplin but there’s two of them?

Anyway. 

I’ve been trying to bend Michael’s ear about the sweater

But he keeps ignoring me, and I reeeeally want it for my birthday!

What sweater?

Oh really!! Are you not even listening either?!

I’m kind of busy…

I am assuming you are on location right now then…!

Eh?!

Well: they say that men are from Mars, don’t they? 

And you are acting just like Michael does.

By driving?

No!! By not listening properly! 

Sometimes I think I would have to put a bomb under him before he’d…

Aww phew!

Phew?!

Yeah!  When you said I was from Mars I thought you’d forgotten

I’m from Northern Europe and

mistaken my sunburn for being proof of Red Planet heritage.

Aw, just shut up!

Charming.  Watch out or I’ll set you down in the next galaxy over

– and it might be cold without a sweater…

 

[Pic is from here]

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Copyright © 2019  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

 

Hello 🙂

I am sitting with my milky cup of tea, looking out of our Eldest’s window at bright November sunshine this morning.  I dug out the quirky china mug that my Auntie bought me for my (second, I think?!) pregnancy and I am savouring how it keeps my caffeine hit warmer than other mugs.

The sky is the colour of a happy watercolour wash, and it is peppered by the snowflake stickers we stuck on the glass a few Christmases ago – Eldest asked to keep them there, so we did.  There are also still some of the chalk pen doodles from a few years ago, because he finds them nice to look at and I’m not picky about how it appears from outside.

I am not an Autumn lover, but I can appreciate it has beauty in it.  The colours can be breathtaking, the symbolism raw – and the general lean towards knitwear, layers and crafting obviously works in my favour 😉

I really should share a happy poem for this gorgeous-yet-frosty day…but the generator had other ideas.

Textfixer said:

So I responded:

 

imposter, blizzard, unsure, phenomenal, locust, distancing, rude, addictive, liberating

 

It’s a syndrome, apparently:

This feeling of being an imposter, hiding in plain sight.

 

Trapped in a blizzard of shoulds

Unsure which way is up.

 

Phenomenal self-doubt descends:

A locust storm munching

On all the harvest

You once thought you could count on.

 

Distancing oneself

From all who like to think they matter

Becomes a way of life. 

 

At first it feels rude,

But the relief becomes addictive.

 

That liberating silence in one’s head

Is better than any mere drug.

 

Maybe I’ll write a happy ditty tonight, when I think back on how nice it is sitting in a sun spot having cleared off our Eldest’s desk while he is at school.  How decadent it feels settling to apply myself to my creative passions in daylight; as the dust motes gather on all surfaces and the washing whirls in its endless rumbly rounds… 😉

 

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2019  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

 

Hello 🙂

I have been at the random word generators again, but this time I liked the words that Randomlists gave me so much that I used them two days in a row! The result was a poem and a story, which are below. Enjoy!

(As a quick note on the poem, ‘greet’ can mean ‘to cry’ in Scots)

Greet, thumb, trucks, supreme, damaging, vegetable, defiant, knowledge, cake

And greet he did:

His small, wet thumb useless –

Spat out against a hot wall of rage.

And none of his trucks were worth

Stemming the tide of his supreme ire for.

Didn’t we understand we were damaging his little brain

With our penchant for a vegetable-eating tot?!

He remained defiant

Safe in the knowledge

His tired mum would still bring cake…

 

 

Greet, thumb, trucks, supreme, damaging, vegetable, defiant, knowledge, cake

He would always wave to greet them before sticking out his thumb.  Sometimes he knew who the driver would be, he’d been doing this so long, but not always. 

It would depend upon the company running the trucks, of course.  There were some who had strict regulations these days about picking up extra weight, or stopping before scheduled to and so on. He described all of this as a supreme “pain in the posterior” that was damaging his way of life.

He claimed that he had travelled the whole country beside one trucker or another – worked in various places for a colourful succession of low life cheats or miserly drunks.

He sat writing what he said were songs in a beaten up notebook marinated in the vegetable soup he always ordered.  The manager asked him if he could sing once, and whether his old guitar could still do a turn.  He said he’d give it a go, and we made good money on the bar that night – he definitely looked the part in his shabby slept-in clothes and with that defiant twinkle to his eye.

I haven’t seen him for a few years, however.  There were reports he’d struck gold somewhere doing…something…but no one I’ve talked to has what I’d call concrete knowledge of his whereabouts. 

So, I continue to serve cake in this lil backwater place, give free coffee top-ups and hope he blows in again someday soon.  I have made a pact with myself that I’ll tell him next time instead of making small talk awkwardly and hanging around waaay too much.  Maybe he sensed trouble and that’s why he bailed?  Mum has always said that’s what his father was like, too. 

Maybe I’ll just have to settle into the thought of wearing this floofy pink-striped apron for at least another year? If he hopes to wait me out he’ll find I can be juuust as stubborn as him.

 

And that’s all for today, folks! Have you been doing any art or other creative goodness recently that you would like me to come and experience? Please post a link to your blog or website in the comments below this post 🙂

 

[pics are from Pixabay – here and here]

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2019  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hi!

As I have no doubt mentioned a few times before, I write at least 500 words every day as part of my daily creative practice. Sometimes it is ‘just’ rambles about my day or working out a thought/feeling on the screen (or paper)…but yesterday evening I decided to revisit the Random Word Generator site and write a poem.

This extended to a total of SIX random word poems in the end, so I will share two of my favourite ones below.

Both poems are about relationships that left an impression on the speaker, and both poems use the first two generated words as a small phrase that gave me the idea for the rest of the narrative 😉  I hope you enjoy them!

(As usual I got the generator to spit out nine words for each poem, following the procedure outlined here.)

PAST LIFE LOVE?

With her lucky horseshoe smile

And kind manner

I felt my axis tip;

 

We all hear that life is no rehearsal

But, in that small café,

I wondered whether there were acts we just forgot we’d aced.

 

While her eyes were the hook

I knew I should depend upon the frisson ‘cross my skin…

 

Amber was the liquid of my heart

Her memory suspended there by time.

 

 

 

ALL THE THINGS HE SAID

It was a college confrontation

Every painter, he said, produced rubbish with a plan.

Every teacher had failed at life.

Every rule abider had no passion in their soul…

 

His poetry swirled me like an autumn leaf

I wailed a waterfall

Or waged a war

At mere words.

 

I remember the last time

The doors slid closed;

Every button still shone

Alive from his touch.

 

 

[Couple pic is from here]

Come visit the Facebook page and follow @ComfyRestless on Twitter

Copyright © 2019  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!