Fences

Have you ever sat atop a fence? Not knowing which side is right? Today I am. It's not about anything big or important or even life altering, but still, it's a fence none the less. On one side people are screaming yes yes yes! Then there is always the faint whisper saying, no darling, it's simply a no. How do you find out which side is right? Who is right? One second I'm agreeing heartily then the next moment I'm second guessing it all. The facts are all laid out in a neat little row. But to decipher the meaning? Who can know? I review it again, telling myself no, a thousand times no. But ... is it a yes, and I just am so pessimistic I am so used to saying no that I assume it's a no but really it's a yes? Or could it possibly be it's really a no and I'm just holding on to dim hope that's it's a yes? Yes or no? I don't know. I don't want a no, but I'm scared of a yes, it's all so ridiculous I must confess. I should leave it alone, but no I cannot. It's not the Leah way. I must over think things, it's what I do best! I love to complicate things; I love to bring it to a deeper level then absolutely pick apart minuscule details. Yes or no, perhaps in the middle? Maybe it's neither a yes nor no, but undecided? Do you know what I mean? How can I sit atop the fence and want to know which side is right, when I myself do not even know what I will feel or how to respond to a yes, or even a maybe. Perhaps it's better off just letting the whispers carry me away. No no no- it's best that way. Easier?- but is it better? Best? What do I want? On the fence I can only see a blur down below. What do I prefer? I prefer to over complicate things, it's my way of life.

I sit atop a fence, wondering.

Do you ever wonder such things too?

--- I've had a sudden burst of creativity. I wrote a few poems last night, and wrote a few poems while at work. I usually only write one at a time. But to show them? Never. Imperfections remain in the dimmed light of the writer who works so diligently to pour her heart into her work... no need to let the savage critics tear her soulful writings apart.

My parents just denied me the privilege of a grand night I had been planning on all week. Sigh. Perhaps I'll sit at home and be a recluse and write. Or to be lazy and watch a movie. Or perhaps induce my mind with fanciful imaginations from a cleverly written book.

When I have a good line of poetry stuck in my head the rest just follows. I'll give you a few lines I thought of at work (All from different poems):

"Fall back, no, step ahead!
'Cause in this place you're merely dead."

"This longing, passion, and desire,
Are all like living breathing fire."

"O, to turn about the room,
and have your presence linger and loom."

"Still so distant, and yet so near,
Did you know... how I miss you dear?"

It's easier to show you simply a line. To show you it all? No, I won't. Perhaps once I've finished them all. All are "finished" but I like to put finishing touches on the things I write. Btw, the last one is the starting lines for TWO different poems. Perhaps I'm writing a poem about my two best friends who live states away? :].

Speaking of I have a wonderful wonderful idea. Until I master the idea, add on to the idea, then perfect the idea.. I can't tell you! Amber has an idea. But she doesn't know she has an idea.