It’s gloomy and grey outside and not raining but the sky looks like it wants to. And it probably would if I stepped outside without a raincoat. You’d think the sky wouldn’t have a mean streak or sense of humor but I’m not convinced….

The pigeons are at the bird feeder in all their  Laurel and Hardy bumbliness. The least graceful of the birds they forget every day how to get into the bird table and flap frantically around several times before landing. I like when they miss and have to land in the grass and the expression on their face resembles mine when I stumble in a public area. Just keep going like no one notices…..or look back at the ground frowning fiercely…and THEN keep going like no one notices.

2019 came and went without much fanfare. 2020 will be marked (Barbara Walters memes already cropping up) but 19 seemed not to attract much attention. With the Madness of the Giant Cheeto constantly in the news, perhaps a mere new year got kicked aside like illegal detentions and collusion (old news) and people are more concerned with ….oh, I don’t know….the end of the world?


But here I am and here you are and the writing squeals for attention in the background even when I throw coats over it or move it to another room and lock the door. It’s who I am on a very basic level. Depression, despair, insomnia, worryworryworry, rememberwhenyou, the Fraud Police,….they all help in roadblocking but cannot be allowed to detour me forever. So….

Here I am in 2019. No resolutions really, just trying to be me in the best way I know how. Writing myself sane and being grateful to be able to do so. I will get back on the bird table no matter how many times I forget how and no matter how stupid I look when I miss. The important thing is to try. 


I’m glad you are all there. *waves*


and I bid you, as always, peace,



About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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1 Response to 2019

  1. hemmiemartin says:

    I love your description – Giant Cheeto – fabulous! Like you, I’ve made no resolutions this year, maybe because I was sick of not achieving some/all of them in past years – you live and learn. All the best for 2019 🙂

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