From the Crab Hole

Although I do have some knitting projects to share and report progress on, today I’m taking a little diversion with the post.  (I promise there will be knitting soon!)



Fall is a rough season for me and I’ve been suffering the full effects for a couple of weeks.  Between my allergies and the diminishing daylight, I sort of get to a bad place physically and emotionally and really have to struggle to do whatever it is I need to do each day.  If you will, it is a time when I really feel the pull of my full crab nature and crawl into a hidey-hole until I can get past whatever is afflicting me. 


While I was doing some tidying up in my craft room / office I came across some old papers that I had squirreled away and remembered something really important about myself.  I used to have aspirations of becoming a writer.  And reading through some of the old exercises I had saved, I really am sort of good when I make the effort.  I also used to write a lot of poetry.  I still jot them down from time to time, but not as often as I used to. Maybe it’s not world class stuff; but it is certainly good enough to prove that I am someone with my own voice and a point of view.   At one point I tried to get published, but was rejected by a pretty prestigious editor and let that discourage me. Then, I sort of abandoned writing when I went through a rough patch a few years back.  Eventually, I started blogging and participating in the world of social networking and I’m not sure if anyone actually writes poetry anymore. Or do they?  But, now I remembered something else… self publishing.  So I decided today that I might just throw out some poetry here and there between the knitting posts and see if anyone notices.  If you like it, leave a comment, if you don’t … leave a nice comment (something constructive).  But mostly remember it’s what is in my mind and heart and expresses my point of view from where I’m at when I write it.  No hidden agendas or tricky metaphors.  So here goes:

Too Much

I can not see you today

And thus

There is too much myself

Too much, much

Too many ways to say

Why or why not

And too many hours to cry

I am not

Where you are and not here

And when you come back

Will I still be?

Nana