author how's it going?

Author https://www.google.com/search?q=writeriam.authorsblock@blogger.com Whc_fire
whc_fire

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whc_fire

 

Hot Hot Hot

The days are hot, long, muggy and humid. The days are slow and without life like the desert. Beneath the heat, there lies the potential to not succumb to the stifling air. 

Waiting. Ever waiting. The sun will go down. It will set and the heat will sloooowwwwly dissipate into the sky away from the ground where we are at. 

Cool spring, cold ice. Where are you? Where have you gone in hiding. Come back to bring all life here to what it use to be. Come back before we suffocate in the heat. 

Hot no more we pray for we cannot stand it no more.

Second Half 2015

My, how time flies. It's 2015 and it's half gone.

You can't catch time. You can't hold time. You can, however, keep time. You can manage time. You waste time too, for that matter, but once wasted there is no going back. I don't know how it happened but things got out of hand. Time flew out the window and I was not able to catch it or hold it until today when the muse that was bugging me made me visit you.

So, I am, writing my heart out. The days were dark and fast. Flying by furiously and I flew with it. My heart has somewhat healed of its heartache and depression. The scars are still in there somewhere but it doesn't hurt so much though, not like it did before.

I have in mind to do something and I have learnt a bit these fast and dark days. I learnt the if I can't sell what I haven't created. So, I have got to create. I have got to write. Then and only then will I be able to sell. Not before.

This what I want to do. Create. Write. Make. Then, I can sell.

Write. Repeat. Sell.

Time, Time. Wherefore Art Thou?

The time has passed by tremendously fast. It's going pass at a crazy speed and I'm left eating its dust unable to catch my breath trying to run after and catch up with it.

Time, why are you so fleeting?
I try to keep up but
there's this other attention grabber
that holds my life by the neck.

It call Life.
Life holds me at the other end.
I'm tied up and
unable to fit other things into me.

Time, you keep moving on.
Even as Life holds me,
you encompass me even further.
We ought to spend hours together.

Hours turn into days, weeks, months.
Then, years happen without me knowing it.
Will you pass me by again?
Or will be fleetingly illusive?

Once again I'm without a solution
except to say I'll do better next time.
'Cause next time is all I have
Till we encounter each other

Again.
Meeting even for a second,
a minute to stretch into
an hour.

Day by day
week by week
month by month
And we get to know each other

again,
again,
again,
and again.

Chokingly Hazy

The month of June and it's that time of the year again where we are suffering from bad air quality and general discomfort because of the haze. Check this post and you can see another post in 2005 about the haze: http://writingblocks.blogspot.com/2005/08/hazy-lazy-days-of-summer.html

The people with asthma are particularly vulnerable to this and must take care. Others are advised to drink lots of water and pray it rains heavily so that the haze will be washed away.


Take care people. The days are hazardous. Sorry. Just couldn't help punning that.

Yeah, You!

YOU. Yeah, you.

You there. Yeah, you. You with the desire but no action. You with the ideas and not putting them down. You who is always churning up ideas as if they are very hard things to do. No, ideas are simple. Any fool can have ideas but it takes action to form the ideas into a whole, into a coherent whole with gaps and holes properly sealed.

Yeah, you. You who better get off the ideas plane and start carry some of the weight of creating a story out of those fabulous ideas of yours.

Yeah, you. You who dream day and night of being a writer but are not putting in the time of pen to paper, finger to keyboard. Come up with ideas, work at those ideas and finish it.

Yeah, you. You know who you are!
Now get to it. Right here. Right now!