Posted in art, poetry, writing

Flutter

Flutter  She’d grown addicted to disintegrating, disappearing in bits like a withering sand castle, eroding away until someone would come along and pack her back together, subsisting in transience, never at peace with integrity, a master at sabotaging her own strength, artful almost, fluttering into pieces  with the grace of fluidity, falling again and again in perfect rhythm.

It feels like it’s been awhile since I’ve been on here. Every time I’ve tried to write a poem in the last several days I end up cranking out about 2 lines and then “finishing” the poem with several words of profanity before closing my notebook and filling up a glass of wine. There isn’t more to the story. Writing is rarely glamorous.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Moved

Moved  I wonder if music gets inside other people’s souls like it does mine, if it resonates as deeply, shifts their feelings, affects their physicality.   I breathe vibrations of melody into my whole being, evoking memories and sentiments, implanting dreams and fantasies, living lyrics in imagined movies, crying at all the right places, gullible to the director’s verse.   I become addicted to the story, listening on repeat, exhausting my ears, singing as I lose perspective on what’s real, living the performance, inventing nuances, dancing to drums, heart jolted by bass, the undercurrent  that holds it all together, rounding out sound with breath.   I hum the harmony, part of the choir, the life behind the necessities, so engaged in every element of the piece that I forget I’m sitting in the cafeteria at work, chewing.