This morning I woke up to a thick sky. I thought it was overcast but instead the sky was covered with smoke. I know this sky, I’ve seen it before.
Where the windows were opened, ashes have settled on the window sills and nearby furniture.
A bit worried (sad and scared), as people in nearby areas are starting to evacuate. The University campus has closed. My kids are still in the on-line school and teachers made announcements for the kids in the affected areas to leave. We are safe and I hope the fire will be contained before it spreads further, although they stoped the air aid because the wind is too strong.
As we go through this, I cannot help thinking about the people who are in the immediate vicinity. Please keep them in your prayers.
This morning I was looking over the official ballot. I found it odd that Trump is at the top and Biden at the bottom! I didn’t know how they establish the order in the ballot. I did’t think it’s alphabetical because I checked and the others are also not alphabetically sorted. So, how do they determine the order?
They say that California has a randomized alphabet procedure, I went to the state’s website and you can find more about it here : California Randomized Aplhabet procedure . This procedure was established by legislation passed in 1975 in response to court rulings declaring that standard alphabetical order or incumbent-first was unconstitutional…..
I questioned the “random!” , because of the order in my ballot. But then a friend sent me hers…….
So, not everybody gets the same thing…. BUT!! She lives in a different county. Other people in the same county with me got the same order as mine……
So now, I would be curious to know if the ballot’s order is randomized per county or individually?
The theme for this month for Free Verse Revolution is “Reflections”. Reflections could mean anything, from reflections in the mirror, water….to anything that you think it could be related with reflections.
For me, it was …the following poem.
You can read it at Free Verse Revolution if you click here. If you are a poet, I encourage you to submit some of your poetry to this blog, as I think it is a wonderful way of sharing our work.
I love nature. I do not hug trees. However, this morning when I went to my mailbox, which I have not checked in the past 3 days, I got a sudden urge to go hug a tree ….Why are there almost 30 pieces of election materials in my mailbox? Really , do we need to be invaded with these? And, if we do, do they really need to be HUGE?!!!
This one that I measured from Trump & Dixon is just an example. They are all about the same size, regardless the party orientation, or the Propositions they advertise for.
I live in California. Is it just here? Is it just my area? Does your mailbox looks the same?
Visual Verse is an anthology of art, poetry, short fiction and non-fiction. You can find more information about it here Visual Verse : An Anthology of Art and Words . Each month authors are asked to write something, within an hour, inspired by an image. The image for this month was the one above. Below is the poem I wrote, which you can find on page 13 of this month’s anthology.
He shed the stiff, dead skins That he once rightfully wore, And let the universe move through him, Turning the pulses of energy Into life.
Perhaps suffering, For this takes courage, He became a tumult of ideas and emotions Both sincere and worthy, To be watered and nourished.
If you’ll come close to his face, You’ll blink twice and then realize That he is struggling, As the waves swell and recede within his body, Receptive to the ebbs and flows of life.
He is embracing, cherishing, protecting creation, Knowing that when the time will come, Death will not take him entirely, And he will continue to exist, As the universe will turn him Into pulses of energy that will create life.
I travel back to the beginning. Sparks are flying, I watch as she reaches to desires, hopes and dreams And puts them all together in a bundle For a tomorrow that has yet to exist.
She now works at the edges and prepares to step off.
My palms cover my face that has yet to be born, For I already know that it will all come to invade My bones, My skin, My mind.
Covered in gods’ dust she’s working on the souls’ forge, Creating one for me. Psyche! You were also born mortal! What are you doing?! Make me right! I want to yell, give me strength! But she doesn’t hear me, And instead she pours more passion.
Or maybe she did hear me as turns to me and smiles. She whispers: “all is well with your soul Best of souls have passion This is what makes them the bravest and the strongest.”
I frown, Not knowing yet the wisdom In what a thought to be one of her foolish mistakes. I frown, Not knowing that without passion Muttered curses and love songs would all sound the same.
I took what she gave me, And went to discover the unknown.
I travel back to the beginning. Sparks are flying, Covered in gods’ dust Psyche is working on the souls’ forge. Memories of the day before the beginning are running through my veins, She turns to me, I smile and thank her for making me burn, For making me feel, For making me whole.