Thursday, May 17, 2007

Terry Writes An Entry: Simple Minds

simple minds

Tonight we are in Rome, GA where Allan grew up. I am at his grandmother's home enjoying some solitude and just good ol R & R. We were supposed to be in Dallas (so I could get my root canal completed), but due to a computer/human error were routed to Atlanta. {just who got blamed before computers came along?:}

Anyhow, I have given much thought to what to write in this entry- usually late at night when I am driving- which is a great time to think, but not a good time to record those thoughts, which is one aspect of driving a truck that can be a bit annoying. It seems much of the time I am either behind the wheel focused on the road as well as the other drivers who cease to amaze me at times at their sheer lack of awareness and willingness to push the envelope - I am not talking about the drivers of just "four wheelers", but professional drivers too- ok after driving my shift, I am exhausted, I sleep, which is often interupted by starting and stopping etc, I am can sleep through a lot, but still my sleep is interupted, then I wake up, I am in a fog, and slowly wake up and then begin driving. It ceases to amaze me at how energized I feel when I am driving, and how lethargic I feel when I am not driving. All that to say that driving a truck is still an adjustment and I am still learning the ropes, of not just driving, but also a life when I am not behind the wheel.

Something I wanted to get into this blog entry that I have not forgotten from those nights of solitude when I am driving is how amazed I am at the beauty of our nation. It is like seeing a million postcards in just a few hours, no matter where I go I amzed by the country side, yes, even Illionois,Ohio, and Iowa can be beautiful!:)

One of my personal goals this year is to start taking pictures, although it is tempting to just ride down the road snapping pictures, I want to be able to make some stops and just get out and snap away. I hope to post those pics to the blog.

Another goal is to begin writing again-as has been par for the course for me I have few ideas floating around, but nothing complete. I used to write a lot of poetry and I also used to work on my stories quite a bit. Perhaps I can begin a writing blog as well as a pic blog.

For what is worth I thought I'd dig out my old poetry book, which is all that is left of the once volumes of writing which I lugged around for years. The peom was written for a poet named Sue Littleton in Austin, TX. We met at the second peotry event I ever attended in Austin. She came and sat by me just before she went up to read, she was in her 70s but still, gracious and beautiful. When she read her poem there on that stage, it was though she had been transformed back to when she was just in her late teens. I was able to read this poem to her in front of a group of poets at a Valentine's Party- she was quite surprised and yes, we became great friends, but I lost touch with her when she moved to Rio.


Ok, I admit it, I am a helpless, hopeless, hapless romantic!
Give me my dream dates and who would they be? The starlets of yesteryear- Kim Novak, Audrey Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman, and of course Eva Marie-Saint-
but alas, I have discovered a new New Saint of the Stars, A Nova of the Heart!
Her white hair flowed like an angel's in the man-made breeze, her eyes were deep wells of brightness I longed for
her smile welcomed and comforted.
Her word portraits are to be prized more than any Dali or Monet, her word portraits are too wonderful to be hung upon the walls of my mind.
She is a bit older than I, perhaps older than my mother?! But still, she is a goddess, she is beauty incarnate, a form, which our society has mistakenly long forgoten, yet no surgeon could possibly sculpt improvement upon this Venus. Those eyes! That smile!
Oh the gentle touch of her hand to stay me as she leaned close and whispered,"Don't leave"
Oh God! The words that I had longed to hear from such lips, 'Don't Leave".
My soul was lost in an ageless, timeless menagerie of fantasy when she read the poem, she had written when she was half my age,
for upon hearing her words I wanted to wisk her away and forge a new trail, Our Trail of Mingled Blood.

Hopefully I can find some new muses, or at least the muse within to write something new, if not then from time to time may dig up something from the past.
until next time . . .

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