An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

sip tea treasure the flavor the texture, the aroma as the rain patters on the roof the sound of thunder far in the horizon count the heartbeats between one and the next the flash of lightning splits the sky into jagged pieces illuminates like the sun for a second in time contemplate the past and the future set them aside for the moment what are you thinking in the present moment? 

A fall can really hurt and you lie stunned for what seems a few moments that can last for eternity. It's amazing how long it seems. The seconds tick away that turns into minutes then into hours and into days It's amazing how much you lose. By the time you finally come back to yourself the sounds of the crowd has long faded into silence. It's amazing how loud the silence gets. It's too late to call it back. You are too far behind can never catch up even if you try. It's amazing how you can be forgotten. The only thing to do is to dust yourself off and start again with your words. It's amazing how different times change.

A star brightens and flares out its brilliance just for a second and then it fades into nothing. The embers remain yet they cannot be extinguished forever. Glows in the shadows a comfortable warmth that still lives in the soul. Stir the coals rearrange the priorities put pieces in better places. A flare of an idea it catches again not a roaring flame. Damp green wood clouds open and dump rain so many setbacks. Restart with flint and steel strip out the wet and useless the fire stutters until it catches. A new star is born not as brilliant or as high but give it time.

a place to be safe  a private quiet sanctum  just sit and  breathe deep your own mind and your own thoughts no one can ever take those away from you. as tides turn and dead leaves fall and perpetual night overshadows the valley know that the dark will not last forever the stars light up the heavens and the sun rises on the horizon.

I. see the ferryman press the gold coin into his hand then he welcomes you II you're the only one today must be a slow day or this trip's just yours III. it's quiet, peaceful the sound of lapping water he pushes off shore IV. he's a quiet chap not much for conversation he just has one job. V. cross the river Styx  the darkness is comforting  it's time to forget

Focus your energy on the things that matter don't scatter your attention on people or events that will compromise what you are deep inside. Don't take it too seriously or overthink what looks the best Just do it. Smash through the paralysis of what others will think and say. The only responsibility you have is to stay true to your core beliefs. For the only person you have to live with is yourself.

Aspirin with coffee my head hurts but I can't afford  to go to sleep Son is not well Hubby has work calls it falls to me to keep on going But when the caregiver can't go on to do what needs to be done what happens then? 

Just one day: the sky does not weep rain the debate isn't about the very right to existence the music sounds not like a dirge. Just one day: the distractions don't divide us the evil are brought to justice the hearts all beat as one the anger does not blind us. Just one day: the children play in the sun the air rings with laughter the warmth of people shines the world is at peace.

On Bluesky, yesterday was "Don't F-- with a Poet Day". It was to give a voice to women who were being treated by men as 'objects of consumption'. Not only for their bodies, but their minds, hearts, souls and voices. This is my poem. There's an extra stanza that I couldn't fit in the 300 word count. They asked you what I did  for a living  You told them "she's just a stay at home mom"  despite knowing that I  craft ideas every day  Twenty nine years three children who need constant care but despite all of that my voice still soars though you always dismiss it. But I can use words  to speak the truth.  You know that  I'm more than a title.  I'm more than just  who you think I am.

Words that flow hit rocks in the rapids and are lost in the swirl of mental chaos. I try to capture them but they slip through the cracks of my mind and I no longer recall. Where do they go when they are in the ether and will they return when I least expect them? Inspirations comes and goes like eddies in the current and are shaped by  a certain time and place. What is fanciful then can become a unmistakable truth and what is important now can become irrelevant later. Be patient and wait if it is lost, it will come back and if it is unheard one day it will be shouted over the river's roar. 

Cracked heart will never be whole as long as the damage continues to spread I can cry or I can laugh It's all right to do the former but I choose to do the latter. Experience  is a bitter teacher but the more I have the wiser I become The challenge: continue to drink from the bitter draught or find a sweeter tonic.

Fingers on the strings not quite automatic yet accidentally sharps and flats first position, second position Muscle memory not quite there but almost, given time under a watchful eye Melodies stagger brain process the notes translates to a stutter of harmonies that hasn't gelled together So many soft tunes and so many angry arias the emotions are already there just need to be unlocked

The ant knows its place in the hierarchy it does its job the one it was born to do never questions how it will benefit the colony it just does. The eagle flies free on the currents of wind It hunts its food and for its little ones never ponders the loss of the fleeing rabbit below it just does. The unwavering man lives through his life He does his very best and himself and those around him never second guesses his motives and his actions he just does.

Dust on the countertop spills onto the floor years of a life well lived, I wonder. Locks of hair pressed into a book next to faded flowers long dead but present. Stones worn away by the pelting rain and the roaring wind names and dates unreadable But the sleeping ones remember though their voices are never heard by the ones who are awake.

Pendulum swings from one side to the other in a blink of an eye happy on one side inconsolable on the other bright and sunshine on the right minute and hour dark and storm clouds on the wrong day and month each moment is a roll of the dice each second is one grain in the hourglass it veers from one to the next unpredictable like the wind and the chaos follows in its wake with all the confusion and the bewilderment. Where will it go now? For how long and how wide no one can every prepare for it.

The Muse awakens from a long peaceful nap pours a cup of coffee Sunlight through the blinds diffuses through the house soft shadows creep on by The hum of electronics the clatter of keyboard slip into familiar territory a pile of ideas half written, half forgotten what will become of them the editor wants this and that all will appear in due time good work can't be rushed she is fickle but focused interruptions not welcome but rolls with every single one a time of rest required though pressure to produce looms large on the horizon the well can't run dry she fills another mug and gets to the business