I don’t know why yet.
I don’t know why.
It’s one of those days.
The frequency is high.

The new moon is up there.
Blue pigs might fly.
The words that are flowing
could make some person cry.

I don’t know why yet.
I don’t know why.
It’s one of those mornings.
Wild-berry pie.


–by elisabeth connelley


~ by Elisa on August 14, 2011.

5 Responses to “Listen”

  1. Good Morning Elisa! 🙂

    • mmmph…of course you pick a writing where I was in my head and probably very busy and trying to express lol I can’t stand people who rhyme when they write, chides self. Seeee now why I put it up? I need to be ok with this sort of imperfection too. Being perfectly imperfect can be a chore.

      I need tea. I feel anxious today. Have to get moving one thing at a time before I get frozen. oh….hello

  2. I thought it was in places like India where people are stuck up with rhyming poetry, Britishers grilled in their heads 100 years ago.
    They wrapped me in a bottle, got rid of me, a bad dream.
    I was so anxious yesterday, didn’t sleep all night.

    • First one handed and then rhymes! The injustice. Justice is a funny concept lol. I never know till I work on grounding if the anxious comes from Blender head and whoa yay busy processing mind–that has so much, there is no way for it to come out and I flinch at having to deal with one more thing or person. Or if I’m raving anxious for a reason OR if my brain just decides to go wonky and ignore my true feelings, sending out the false alarm. It’s a bummer about the sleep.

  3. Ha! Ha! True, worse for me when writing doesn’t come. I’ll trade as many sleepless nights for few pages of poetry. I have no job or responsibility to wake up for.

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