a return to form?

Once again, I'm changing horses mid-stream, or some other equestrian/aquatic metaphor, and scrapping the "Dessert of the Week" feature. I'm trying to LOSE WEIGHT, after all, and making delicious desserts won't help me to achieve this goal.

But then, I'm not helping myself to achieve this goal, either. I'm eating a little better, but not that much. That seems to be the M.O. all around for me these days ... no real striving for new things, just a slight push in certain directions to be better at/with the things I already do.

Did that last sentence make ANY SENSE???

This is what happens when I don't blog for three weeks; I lose my literary skills and nonsense-write all over the place.

Or maybe these staccato graphs and fanciful phrasings should suggest to me to bust out the poetry again? I was, after all, a poet for years and years and years, and more successful at that than anything. The reviewing came much later, and only after pushing and kneading my words into a mold so I'd know how to use it and how (later) to break it. Poetry has always been easy for me.

I guess I'd stopped writing poetry because it always came from a place of mental/emotional unease and longing, and I stopped being uneasy and no longer longed after marriage. But now I yearn for mundane things like birthday cake on Thursday afternoons at the office, shopping in stores with stairs, and staying asleep for hours at a time.

Is there poetry in the mundane-ities? There certainly seems to be. Writing verse won't get me a down-payment on a house, or a job, or accolades, or anything tangible and praise-worthy and self esteem-replenishing ... It won't even make me feel better about what I don't have; putting wants into words reminds me that I'm wanting.

But maybe it'll make me feel like an artist again. It would be good for me to step out of the Mommy shell for a few and be my own free spirit again - even if it's in a corner of a page in the back of a long-ago-purchased composition book.

Or even in a blog post!