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I am to write truly bad writing for fifteen minutes and it has taken me two days to think what to write and each time I come up with something I dismiss it. At this rate I will never begin to write the words that are within me and that are bubbling none stop like too much soap powder in a washing machine seeking a way out. So…, I will now relax my mind and type words as they flow and see what comes forth be it fast or slow.
I have words of emotions of rivers deep, of scattered ponds and mountains creeks. I have words of peace and silence in the air, blue skies, crazy clouds, air! I have words of love, of togetherness, of solitude, laughter and pain; I have spooky experiences to share and tales of dancing in the rain. I have thunderstorms of anger to splatter pure white pages with dirt; I have energies of matter to form into words. My dictionary and thesaurus sit by my side; I feel pleasure in writing, no longer do my words want to hide. Words have power and cause affect; they can be remembered or forgotten. My spelling is often incorrect but makes interesting conversation.
I am sitting by the fire whilst I type these words and listening to its language as it converses with the wind that is rumbling down the chimney, Pop, bubble, crackle, crack, Roar! I watch intermittently fire finger flames dance their dance over coal of various shapes and sizes, whether they have an audience or not, creating warmth as they expand their energy out into the room and like fungi leave a red glowing trail of where they have been. I see faces in the burning embers, or is it cinders, or both? and I see a story of destruction awakening as ill weakened coals fall into the ash pan with no control…
The clock has caught my attention, fifteen minutes is almost up. Looking out the window day light is falling to dusk, rain pitter patters on the window pane and as gently I bring this chatter of words to a close, I smile :)