| The Tangle of Meanings Contributor(s): Leach, Patrick J. (Author) |
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ISBN: 146799104X ISBN-13: 9781467991049 Publisher: Createspace Independent Publishing Platform OUR PRICE: $22.80 Product Type: Paperback Published: June 2012 |
| Additional Information |
| BISAC Categories: - Poetry | American - General |
| Physical Information: 0.32" H x 5.98" W x 9.02" (0.39 lbs) 124 pages |
| Descriptions, Reviews, Etc. |
| Publisher Description: A book of art and poetry. This book explores my alcoholic past and process of recovery. It contains many full color reproductions of art work produced since I became a painter, well into sobriety. Great Dams Inside Someone built great dams in my mind Thoughts built up and flooded back into All the tributaries and open spaces inside In the alcoholic ward the doctors and Nurses treated my disease Opened blockages, worked on my being Years in the making, settled in Raised the dams slowly, loosened up Rivers of thought and poetry Art and words breaking like winter Ice on a frozen river, the spring thaw Is on and this is what I see Flowing out of me, knowing now Drugs cloud and silt and flood the mind And God set me free In this little bubble ___________ _________________________________ nice to sit here by the window at my desk with sunshine and nothing to do but be here writing when I want to, not worrying about what is on my list of things to do just being here with God this is where I want to be, when I'm at my best taking time to sit and meditate with my eyes open setting aside so many petty concerns and irritations just enjoying this gift of life in this moment as it moves along on this vast sea of time living in this little bubble I call me The Song Hearing beautiful melodic sounds this morning Sounds I've heard mornings for years Perhaps decades out back at this time of year When the sun sits low in a cloud-covered sky Appreciated songs Imagining the source a beautiful multicolored Expansive lovely creature In my usual hurry to get somewhere quickly But looking up, searching this morning Into the bare branches of the trees There sat a tiny plain drab colored bird Quivering slightly ever time it sang its notes Waiting to hear similar sounds From another of its kind, we all wait Like the little bird, I put out my words to The world, and I wait Better days There were days I dreaded Getting out of bed, facing A new day, alone, depressed Troubled by a bad job, a bad relationship, no relationship, Bad feelings about myself and what I was doing to myself I'm grateful those days are passed, not that I always Spring out of bed happy, but the dread and terrible months long depression slowly left me when I stopped drinking and smoking pot And for this and so much more, I am grateful |