Tag: mood

Writing

The Adrenaline We Crave

Shaky hands please calm

Upset tum please settle now

But please don’t leave me

Writing

Oopsie Daisy

Coffee, pen, journal

I told the page a secret

Blotting out the sin

Writing

Replying to the last of my clients and closing Outlook, I lament the ticket to D.C. that will go unused tonight. I fight back a tightness in my throat that I’ve come to understand needs two fingers of whiskey to solve at the end of the day. No one did this to me.

I always said you’re not ready to start your own company until you can’t remain at any other company.

Truthfully, I let myself steal from myself. I stole my future from myself. Procrastinating to avoid managing emotions about living. The reward of putting things off…that feeling becoming an addiction in itself. A dream adjacent my true dream.

My vision for this company is like rain. Cleaning out self-pity and distractions that tug at my memory, emotional reserves, concentration, and—

“¿Qué cenamos?”

“Dejame…”

He scurries away like I’ve just raised my hand to slap him. Maybe he’ll ask his father and be scared enough to actually leave me alone. I love my kids. I love my kids. I love them. But I can’t love my clients, kids, boss, husband, churchgoers, everyone! Can I?

I pour the whiskey and set my out of office email with no return date.

Writing

Art

Post author By G. Pearson
Post date March 21, 2022
No Comments on Art

You can choose but one

Nonpolitical space/art

True, he fit his name

Writing

Alone In My Mind

With clanging whirlwinds

Still meditating—no breath—

My own voice unheard

Writing

Lake Michigan Winter Date

Post author By G. Pearson
Post date March 17, 2022
No Comments on Lake Michigan Winter Date

Crystal ice like shells

Once we fall through, won’t we freeze?

Scurry back laughing

Writing

The Starting Over

I stir the cream into my coffee. The sky is lit with the moon and it keeps me awake enough to race with my thoughts. “Compatible,” I think. I keep getting hit with this word when I least want to hear it. When I make a play for permanence, the other party starts their doubts. “Is it me or her timing?” “Is she consistent?” “Is she looking at me right now?” I don’t want to make them uncomfortable, but I do. And then they hit me with it. “Do you think we’re compatible?” And the next move is crucial. Because once they ask, there is only one correct answer.

Writing

In-Patients

Knock, hinges, then light

Gentle, cold touch as bill mounts

“like to go home please…”

Writing

Brings Him Glory

I couldn’t think of something more peaceful to do than sit on the grass in the sunlight and let my warmth and the temperature of the grass come to one stable level. It is even more than touching snow until fingers freeze just slightly. Like flow. The beautiful mornings are given to us by God and the perfect temperature is something set by the Lord. Even when we assume details that please us are too trivial for the Lord, remember that he made it so grass shows up as individual blades instead of one large patch of a waving piece of oxygenated plant. He detailed it so that grass is singular. So I must see the small pleasures as singular—a detail given to me, once again, by our true and living God. Because he is living he can also enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Whenever I feel warm I imagine that the atmosphere is giving me a hug, keeping me close and safe and comforted like a child. When it is cold I want to cry. And then both are love and beauty and detail from God and in all he is righteous.

Writing

Love Then Lost

All the while we snooze

Sorrow billows, tears…. pillows

‘Tis better to have…

Writing

This A.M.

Clouds move, but don’t pass

Clung to me with “I need you”

Darkened day and night

Writing

5:15 am

Hot skin, cold air, bed.

Email—things spiral quickly.

Time to fight the day.

Writing

Precocious Indeed

“This isn’t too hard.”

Then she fell hard off the bike.

“And life moves on still!”

Tags cycling, daily haiku, Daily Poetry, daily writing, death, faith, haiku, inspiration, life and death, memories, metaphor, Micro Poetry, mood, nostalgia, Poem Of The Day, Poetry, self-help, self-improvement, Writing

Writing

The First Kill

Didn’t feel as dirty as I wanted it to. Just hunting the deer and understanding the death of the animal… I later on smell metal as I feel the air coming through the grill in the truck. The doe sprawled across the front of my truck is the bloodiest part of my life. All else is peaceful and full of life. The only death is what I hunt.

Poetry Writing

The Truth of The Spare Tire

Post author By G. Pearson
Post date February 28, 2021
No Comments on The Truth of The Spare Tire

What do I have a spare tire for? I don’t even know how to drive.

I told my friend I didn’t have friends and he agreed. I wanted to meet new people, but then I couldn’t find any good reason I’d leave my place to meet people.

Confessions Inspirationals

Mood Boards: A Concrete Stress Alleviator

Post author By G. Pearson
Post date September 5, 2016
No Comments on Mood Boards: A Concrete Stress Alleviator

We’ve all been there.

We spend hours upon hours explaining our stressful days and anxieties to counsellors, professors, parents, and well-meaning friends. We spend so much time explaining how hard it is to conquer that we forget it often takes a lighter touch to alleviate. Of course, not all breakdowns or emotional weights can be solved by a few scrolls past satisfying imagery or a relaxing playlist.

But for when all else has failed, this is my go-to.

Simple images with simple color progression to remind me of minimalism, the comforting way nature returns to a basic equation of gradients, temperature, silence, and storms.

So for when all else has failed for you too–or for when you’d just like to scroll along, fade into some of my favorite Tumblr pages.

Enjoy and stay afloat.

http://mopoki.tumblr.com/