I can’t choose melancholy

As my hobby, obviously,

So it will be poetry…

And I tried and tried…in vain

Wrote of joy, of love and pain

One more follower to gain…

Well…of course, I’m not that good,

Poetry worsened my mood,

I felt so misunderstood…

Out of spite I made a cake,

Ate it all, the cream was fake,

Must admit: I cannot bake!

I can’t clean and I can’t dust

And, if sewing is a must,

May G...

I try to stir it

But the pot boils over

I hate making sauce...

Paint brushes scattered on the kitchen table

I dab water colors, blend reds and blues

Nothing I put on paper seems quite right

I turn to a new page and starts again

The voice in my head taunts me,

“You’ll never be good enough.”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Your colors are bleeding into each other.”

I drop the brush, head in my hands

The voices continue.

“Give up while you’re ahead.”

“How desperat...

It was a cold stormy night my burdens were anything but light. I thought the new hobby would fit in but it seemed to toss me as the wind. I couldn't figure out why but I needed to tell this hobby goodbye. Now you're probably finding yourself asking what this hobby is. It's mountain biking from the ridge. I picked it up just for fun but found myself out in the sun. It was so hot and not for me I cr...

I’ve lately expressed

a latent

interest with chess

A new obsession

to undress

A chest bearing knowledge

Driven to calculate

the move that’s next

A simple diagram

of complexity

With no contrast

and much diversity

The Cutthroat nature

of adversity

A game to goade out

what’s the worst in me

To be anxious for what’s next

To look for meaning in a text

That exists in pictures

To figure ...

Try and try again.

“Practice makes perfect” I can hear my mother angrily telling me in my memories.

Blood, sweat, as well as tears I could keep in jars.

The effort I have poured in never matches the outcome.

Will I ever accomplish anything?...

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I want to live life to create

But life gets in the way too

You want to perform so high

But you need to walk on a wire

Or jump on a fire

To balance the life you desire

You express yourself to share

For all the people to see

But you lose yourself in the process

As you filter you for everybody

Why can’t I just be me

Why please everybody

Stop all the act that aint tru...

I was 60

I wanted to do something new

To get a significant gift

And it looks terrific

Something to sit in front of in the evening

Quiet steady practices

As if

Where would that time come from?

Borrowed from unlearnt languages

Fetched from must-read shelves

Bought from quick contracts

But I’ve got a set of three finger chords

And some heavy reverb bass

I never thought it’d be Chopin

I can lose...

I’m determined to enjoy this pastime

I finally have an hour for it all

My dream is to do it without trying

But a relationship forced is not a relationship at all

Like a passion you’ve set as a goal

A vanity to employ

a song you work to love

Its miserable to get a hobby enjoyed...

My hands are tired and sore.

Strings make lined bruises,

Bruises make little mouths

Little mouths make me crazy.

If they could talk, they wouldn't.

They would laugh at my:

Clenched teeth

Angry eyebrows

Aggressive hair flipping every 5 seconds

Loud, obnoxious racket

Of course when I start back up,

My voice is hoarse and congested

So all I have to notice is:

The ache in my hands

The burning frust...