Tag Archives: love

A few wee Scriblings ’bout Me

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Grandad did it!  He tagged me a few days ago (sorry for the lateness of the post) for a six word meme.  The gist of the meme is to describe one’s self in six words.  I’m going to give this a couple of goes.  J

Journeyman

Energised

Featherweight

Fisherman

Enigma

Recalcitrant

Sociable

Observer

Nonpareil

Six words when I’ve had too much to drink: 

Nefarious, Devious, Audacious, Flirtatious, Gregarious, & Hilarious

Six more words: 

Justified, Sanctified, Electrified, Amplified, Non-classified, & Diversified

Six real words ‘bout me:

Humble:  I reckon you’ll find that I’m a very down to earth fellow that can be fishing one minute and writing poetry and taking photos the next.

Honourable:  If I ever promise you anything, I’ll do my best to achieve it.  And, when it comes to women, I’m like a faithful mutt waiting for a handout.  ;)

Benevolent:  Believe it or not, I’m a very helpful and kind person.  I don’t talk about helping people on the blog, because that would be totally rude to those that I’ve helped. 

Silly:  I am a clown but usually on accident.  I like to play!  J

Deamy:  I see things as they should be or how they could be in a different realm.

Artsy:  I shouldn’t have to tell you by now how much I love Art!  Tis my life ambition to turn words into picturesque scenes and picturesque shots into words.  :)

Now, onto my favourite part!  Who shall I meme?  Hmm…How ‘bout:

Absolutely Vanilla  (when she gets back to blogging)

Brian F. (Just cause)

Baino   (subconsciously she loves these darn things.)  :)

Gayé  (I’ve not pestered her with one of these in quite a while.)

Suzan  (I’ve not annoyed her with one of these in a long time either.) 

Elegant Lace

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I’m totally exhausted, so I’ll leave you with a wee poem I wrote almost a year ago.  I shall return Friday evening with some new and original material.  Not sure what yet.  :)

Exquisiteness, youth and brilliance in motion,
Her purest of thoughts are my celestial notions,
Bringing forth perceptions of wonder and desire,
My heart skips as fanciful lips fervently enquire.

Her mystique, spirit, heart, and soul so tranquil,
Her adoring smile that rushes forth life’s grandest thrill,
Her ways of caring, nods of affection,
Beauty and grace; a tantalising deception.

She evokes love and kindness, from deep inside,
A deluge of emotions, setting forth a great tide.
She gingerly paints a world so serene
That life will never become a routine.

-Jefferson Davis-

leopard_petals

Muse

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Okay…Well, my honest muse got a hold on me last night and wouldn’t let go, until I released the previous post. Evidently it scared or spooked you all – you know, the truth and all that. I was going to write a long post apologising for it, but I decided against it. If you can’t handle a little truth every now and again from a guy that is just trying to tell you a story that may educate you in some manner, as I hope to be educated by each of you, then maybe you need to reflect on your own insecurities.

Look, I do get a bit long winded about the truth and perhaps I do write stuff that is a bit sad sometimes. But, that is life, with all of its ups and downs. People are like the seasons, for they are constantly in transformation, like myself.

The bullshitting fictional muse is on call from sun up ’til I get home in the evening. By that time, the grand clown of muse is ready for a nap, so I let the non-fictional/honest muse out. That muse knows all ’bout the heart wrenching feelings portrayed in some of my stories. Occasionally, he’ll add a bit more drama or change a name or place to protect the innocent, but in the end, the stories written on this blog are my own. And, you’ll have to admit that I’m one unique abstract individual. We are all unique in our own ways, and we can each express it in different ways.

At present, my muses voices are reminding me of how I laughed out loud at the guy across from me, because of the lying and scheming advances he was making towards a gorgeous blonde. They are also screaming for me to tell you of how bad I wanted to slap the know-it-all attitude out of the artsy hyper bloke sitting next to me on the bus to the museum. But, most of all, they want me to express how exhilarating it was for me to stand and almost touch art that was over four thousand years old, how captivated I was while standing in front of “The Tiber” and the “Statue of Neshor”, and how I reflected on the clay “The Passion of the God Lilu”.

As much as I love the art work itself, I always find myself thinking about the artist behind it. Who was this person? Did they have a family? Was he or she a hard labourer? What inspired them? Who supported them?

Anyhew, I hope you all have a grand weekend. Wish my sheep counting well. Baahh! :)
High Museum