INCONCEIVABLY BLONDE....

This isn't  a poem, but poetic, at points. But it's personal.  Powerful.  And poignant :) OK, folks, I know it's ONLY March, but as we all know that tempus fugit AND  that H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks is paved with good intentions, etc. etc.... I've noticed myself slip-sliding away from my goal of really getting "ME" together. (Now, when I say "ME," I  really  refer to improving my health, my writing, and finding a focus and strategy that work for me, that I'll ACTUALLY DO n stuff to get writing more, to get published, and to create my very own professional freedom). Well, UGH on that.  Phooey!! TPTHHH!! Dislike!!  Seriously.... I've had quite a bit of time to think, as I took a break from work to help care for my dad in his new cancer diagnosis and treatment.  SO frustrated with my professional life, I feel like I'm not truly doing what I'm supposed to do-- what I'm MADE to do. You know? That my jo...

Take a long walk in the pouring rain, let your hair spill freely down your back and smell all life that's flowing in your veins awaken in the storming sky's attack. Hold out your hands for those tiny kisses to lick and cool the heartache--and you smile, splashing past the windshield-wipered masses stuck in traffic--makes it all worthwhile. Look between the clouds as sunlight rainbows sparkling color in each falling drop. Amid new puddles children freely frolick, until their mothers scream for them to stop. Close your eyes and let the chilled breeze blush you-- just catch the taste of wet sky on your tongue. no matter if your clothes are soaked right through, they'll dry out as you walk back in the sun. Written by Eliza Jane Farley Gomez February 21, 2012