sinister intentions

writing, or perhaps my way of writing is rather slapdash! i possess none of the discipline, the dedication, required to write consistently.

something, someone ...grabs my attention, my mind creaks into gear and i merely follow my thought pattern. if i am not near my computer and i find my thoughts interesting enough, i will jot them down. well, if i can find pen and paper to jot them down with.these pieces of paper, notebooks, envelopes are then forgotten. the next time i pack my nomadic tent to move on ... there they are, all over the place, in winter coat pockets, the side pouch of a suitcase or tucked away in a drawer ... many drawers actually, i tend to operate my life without a filing system. of course, i value my thoughts and i pack these oddments away safely, to be found the next time i move on.

the poems, come with their own agenda. they start in my head and they grow. they run up and down and round and round. there is no ignoring them, they are louder than i am...
to rid myself of them and to keep a certain level of sanity, i have to write them down and they seldom leave me in peace until such time as i have them safe and sound, typed into my computer and filed according to .... whatever. i then hop over to my soundfooting website and record them there as well.

poetry wise i have had a fairly peaceful time the past six months...

since my cancer episode, the chemo and the hormonal treatment, which hurled me...rather unkindly into menopause, i have endured some tiresome depressions.luckily for me, the greyness is caused by a chemical imbalance and i respond ... gleefully...to a chemical correction. however, occasionally, due perhaps to ... "who the hell knows"... i fall off the happy wagon and require an increased chemical dose to keep me functioning

now there must be a certain truth in the old saying that a poet thrives on misery. increase my dose of happy pills enough and the poetic words grind to a halt. my mind grows calm and restful, the rhythm of the words fades and i lose the frantic need to write, to share, to communicate. (omg! i am obviously as crazy as a large portion of humanity).
these past six months, i have been prescribed an increased dose and my poetic brain has been hibernating. now however...i am back to my normal dose and my normal miserable self... the word music is once more tapping in my brain.
truth to tell, i miss the word craziness when it is absent. i am grown used to the thrust and parry of my poetic thoughts. there is a certain loneliness, a missing, in the chemically induced silence.

so.... where was i going with this anyway...oh yeah, today's title "sinister intentions".
last night, having enjoyed a savannah (incredible south african cider, now available, on the rare occasion in the uk..."it is dry but you can drink it")..or two, i was struck by a brilliant idea for a blog. unfortunately, the hour was late and i was weary...
i would leave myself a reminder for the morrow. i opened a new page and typed in 'sinister'. what the dickens does that mean? absolutely nothing to me i'm afraid.
the only word which comes to mind is intentions and 'sinister intentions'...
my memory comes up with a great big zero, zilch...
i'm sure freud would have made sense of it...probably some sinister clue to my deep, dark inner intentions in there.

so i have the title but the blog is gone. instead we have a bit of an incongruous ramble through my thought process. there is nothing new in all the world...