Touching a Daydream: Blogging Around With Rommy, Week 3

Everything

started off

as someone’s fancy

that refused to stay

insubstantial.

This poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads' Tuesday Platform and Poets United Poetry Platform 438.

The Liner Notes for This Groove:

So I had a phone call with a friend recently…

Me: Guuuuuuuurl…

Her: It arrived didn’t it?

Me: Yep, in a plain non-descript brown packaging, but it’s here.

Her: Ooooooh… have you opened it?

Me: I’m doing that now.

*tearing of paper ensues*

Me: Oh my, this is…

Her: Tell me everything.

Me: I never thought I’d be bold enough to hold something like this in my hands. Just, wow.

Her: I’ll bet you’re caressing it right now, aren’t you?

Me: Caressing. Fondling. Sniffing. It looks damn good on my bedspread. I think after I spend a little time with it, I’m going to leave it here for my husband to find. I think he’s even more excited about it than I am.

Her: It’s great he’s so supportive.

Me: Mmm-hmm. We are both going to have a very good time with this.

Just chilling, drinking some deep red tea, 

and reading my book with my foxy new manicure.

There’s something about holding something that just started out as a few random ideas. If as Ann Patchett said “Writing is a job, a talent, but it's also the place to go in your head. It is the imaginary friend you drink your tea with in the afternoon” getting to hold the finished product is like seeing your imaginary friend walking around in broad daylight.

Did you ever get a chance to hold something that you only imagined before? If you have a cyberhome, elaborate on how that felt and drop the link in the comments. Or feel free to start up some conversation on what’s going on in your world.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: AMillion Dreams covered by Pink

It's Your Thing: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 2

There's an amazing feeling when you create something in a medium dear to you that imbues the project with its own special, dare I say it, spark of joy. And what sparks up one person might feel meh to someone else. In which case—don't art that way! Borrowing a little from the oft misunderstood, Marie Kondo, life is too short to spend time creating things that don't thrill, excite or otherwise move you in some way. 

James Norwood Pratt wrote, "Tea is quiet and our thirst for tea is never far from our craving for beauty." I revel in artistry of all types—visual, written, spoken, sang, danced, a blog post about what you love that can be artistic... beauty comes in so many forms, and it isn't in me to try to limit it. 

Make mine starlight
illuminating dusky beauty
and dancing off the awful bright
of a fairy tale forest
with no shortage of terror and ecstasy.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Ode to Autumn by Lady Viktoria. 

Find more of her gorgeously thrilling images in her Etsy store.

Song Choice: It's Your Thing by the Isley Brothers
The poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform and Poets United Poetry Pantry 437.

So Dear Groovers, tell me in the comments section about things that thrill you creatively (and I'm using thrill in the most expansive way possible—I consider love and horror to be thrilling in their own way). If you have a cyber home where you show off your creative sparks, share the link and tell me how they thrill you. Or just catch me up with what's going on with you. 

That Sportsball Life

I couldn't hear the bounce of ball on blacktop over the susurration of pages turning under my hands when I was young. Tying elation and depression to the ferocious waltz between strangers held no appeal. It was only when I felt the freedom of venting emotions in a well timed kick that I began to understand.

My unexpressed rage
finds solace in strengthened limbs
dripping sweat, not tears. 


Liner Notes for This Groove: 

My dad did a terrific job suppressing laughter when I told him I voluntarily participate in sport-like activities every week with my co-workers. That ever athletic man spent a lot of time trying to encourage me to enjoy a physical activity beyond walking back and forth to the library with a ginormous backpack of books. I'm just as surprised as he is by how much I look forward to what I call "sportsball time" at work.

There are weeks I'm especially grateful for sportsball time. This week was one of them. There was a whole lot going on that, let's just say, left me feeling mightily irked. It wasn't enough to make me cry (and I'm certainly not against a good cry either - I find those to be extremely cathartic), but I had some pretty strong feels that were going to be unproductive to vent any other way than on the sportsball field.

I actually played my best game this week - 2 goals, 2 assisted goals. I credited it to brewing chai tea in coffee that morning (caffeine is a hell of a drug, for me at least - ask my college roommate). But there was just something cleansing about playing hard, even if my team didn't win in the end (I mean... that wasn't realistic. The gentleman who runs the class and the lady who is super hard core about fitness were on the opposing team. It was like going up against the Avengers).

I'll never be fabulous at sports, but I'm having fun playing. Heck, I even have a favorite sports team - the Hanshin Tigers from Japan. They are from Osaka, which is known to be a foodie haven. That seems to be as good a reason as anything else to support a team. Go Tigers!

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Mascot for the Hanshin Tigers

This poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads Weekend Mini-Challenge: Mustn't Be Fancy and Poets United, Poetry Pantry 436.


Song Choice: Rokko Oroshi (the fight song for the Hanshin Tigers baseball team out of Osaka Japan) by Snuff