Posted by: tlboehm | June 6, 2012

Prose and Pyrite


Another day grinds to a dull end and I find myself prepping for the inevitable scourge of rush hour traffic and if I am fortunate – some prepackaged sustenance of the please don’t squirt out on my blouse kind. Home is still a few hours away and there is simply no time to ponder the complexities of my life. As usual I steal this moment, that ache in the back my throat reminding me of the beauty locked in my spirit that will never quite reach the page. I am forced to expel bits of pyrite and tinsel, cheap words easily forgotten in the blur of the cyber world. 

Life is frantic, messy and painful on so many levels. I’ve killed a lot of monsters but I am bloodstained and weary from the effort. And some of them bred like bunnies, leaving scurrying furtive offspring to bite my ankle and trip me  in the middle of my upswing – propelling me into that awkward face-planting downward spiral. I’m a fighter. Rough, raucous and earthy. My wings are only for stability and not flight. I am at this moment in time – ground bound. 

I am not without the random aspiration slash obsessive compulsive slash ridiculously unattainable dream. That’s why I’m here. There is a writer in me somewhere. She is a prolific, tenacious creature. Asurvivor. She is not beautiful but she is loyal. She has never left me – even when I have begged her to do so. She simply amends her personality to fit the current situation – taps on my skull and says – “Let me out….please.” 

And so I relent. Once again I’m on the train, hurtling at the speed of light to God knows what derailment. I’ve survived so many personal pile ups – I am no longer afraid of the careening course. I’m on it for the duration and if you read me. So are you. The difference this time? I’m in the engine room. That little girl with the freckles and the #2  pencil? She’s at the controls. Writing will come first because I want it to be so. 

Peace. You know what this means. It means poetry. It means rants. It means novels. It means I’ll be giving up sleep. It means….I’m setting myself free. 




  1. I am glad to hear you’re setting yourself free. And I love everything that comes from your pen. I’m feeling more than a little ground-bound myself these days, so this post in particular speaks to me. If this is pyrite, the world isn’t ready for your gold.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: