Today I feel like being a poet and writing a post where the syllables patter and rhyme down the page. But, I’m not one. Please tell me again how do you write iambic pentameter or free verse? What rhymes with confused?
I feel like rambling philosophically on thoughts about life, keeping simplicity, and taste. Sentences are typed describing clocks without time, but my thoughts bore even me on these topics today.
I want to be cheery and think of recapping adventures. Reminiscing on the past I look back at pictures, but I’d rather be productive today.
Maybe hopeful is on order today and it’s the adventures to be I need to write. Planning the future is fun, but it’s the same as before and the lines are deleted as well.
The books and movies that entertained me this week could be described. How they traveled to times in the past, described magical mysteries wondered about, made me laugh, and made me worry. I’ve never cared to critique all these works. What is best, better, or good. What is worst, awful, or lacking. These are ideas for you not for me to decide.
No, I want to be witty.
I want to be creative and literary. Fictional in my writing.
No, I prefer to be smart.
I want to believe that I’m more.
The foods that I cook don’t translate into words. The words that I write I don’t care to cook.
Having fun without purpose, that’s all I ask. Today I want to relax; to be without thoughts.
Today I could turn blueberry biscuits into strawberry shortcake. Lick whipped cream from a whisk, a spoon, and a finger. And then, I could leave it at that.