Category: Firescape Fridays

Self Irony | FF 22

The real tragic flaw in Shakespeare’s tragic protagonists is that the characters are not privy (in the full ripening of dramatic irony) to the fact that they are but players, actors, and they need not take their roles seriously at all — maybe just change characters completely and shed the oncoming doom.

However, like us, the players remain asleep to this key, this unlocking of their full potential — limited by imagination alone. (Moreover, the roles themselves are adored, the carefully crafted egos, skilfully induced immortality in temporary personas.)

And so, they are led — usually by the rope of attachment — to their doom, typically destroying others along the way.

God, I love a good tragedy.

#OthelloFan #Macbeth

So many lessons. So many illustrations. Especially self-destruction through self-preservation.

Are we not the same?

Tags addiction, attachment, creative writing, emptiness, enlightenment, just wake up, macbeth, othello, potential, self destruction, self preservation, shakespeare, tragedy, true reality, wake up

Firescape Fridays Poetry

I Once Loved Words | FF 21

Post author By K. Samways
Post date September 22, 2023
No Comments on I Once Loved Words | FF 21

words of affection used to be
my “love language”

but time did teach this twisted tongue
to taste tall tales, talk fiction

soon enough my ears heard
                        such soft, sweet speech
           from my lovers’ lips
    words that would    hit the floor
                        hollow, empty
    without resound

I learned
            through repetition
      that language
beautiful and pure, untainted
                 magical metaphors
              lines with lineage
         when delivered by
                   a malicious mind
         or with careless cheek
            indulge darkness,
                              a deceit

and that is why,
though I wish to buy them …
sweet nothings now mean
no thing to me

Tags creative writing, deceit, firescape friday, karma, language, lesson learned, lies, love, love language, poem, Poetry, words, words of affection

Firescape Fridays Poetry questions

For Later | FF 20

I have placed upon the shelf
the feeling

for later

it’s insecure
incorrectly placed
never found the stud

I don’t know why such a weightless gift
should appear so heavy

it will likely fall
           not the for the first time glass
         has shattered
                     infinite and
                        finite sharp crystal gems

allowed to cut again
weapons cast upon the floor

because I was afraid,
I guess

why else

was such a lovely
feeling
shelfed?

Tags blockage, creative writing, darkness, emotion, feeling, Firescape Fridays, for later, karma, love, poem, Poetry, questions, resistance, shelfed, shelved

Firescape Fridays Poetry

Artist’s Way | FF 19

Are we artists all the same?
we, the multi-disciplined
divining a spiritual path
questioning unquestioned reform

Novelist, short story author, essayist, poet, painter

We have a list beside our names
objectifying our existence
and grounding us a permanent fixture

While we strive for freedom
against false gravity
the weight of awards and titles
the pain the being misunderstood
consistently

The artist is but a reflection of the mind
the life a play, a temporary gimmick
a genius’ work is rarely critiqued
by a mind of equal stature

The spiritual path appears to isolate
and still we cannot help but wonder
when others will understand
that it was worth it in the end

Tags artist, awards, creative writing, critique, firescape friday, painter, poem, Poetry, reflection, samsara, spiritual path, writer

Buddhism Firescape Fridays Photography

What is luck? | FF 18

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Are you feeling lucky?

Either way, I may have a secret to help you bring more luck into your life …

Gen Kelsang Rabten reveals the actual ‘secret’ to ‘good luck’

Tags bad luck, Buddhism, buddhist teaching, cause & effect, four leaf clover, good luck, luck, lucky, st. patrick's day

Dreams Firescape Fridays Poetry

Port McNicoll | FF 16

Winter 2020, a dreamlike recollection

Recalling a Midnight Walk in Port McNicoll

Help me shed
my exoskeleton

I feel like like setting something on fire
I feel like crying
I feel like creating
I feel like destroying

Port McNicoll
cold night
walking in the dark
see the stars
hear the crunch
forged by footfall
don’t slip on that ice there
crunch crunch crunch
silence punched
with pursuit
breath audible
visible
in the dark
rub my eyes
to clear the dark
crunch crunch crunch
two people making one
set of tracks in the snow
around the inlet now
find the path
to the narrow
a strip
no longer tying boats
to a bustling port
just dried up
riparian plants
taking their
liminal space
beneath the snow
grounded by ice
liquidated by spring

I feel like setting myself on fire
I feel like filling my pockets with rocks
and following the wolf’s path
though already a rebirth of her future
still struggling
same shit
different lifetime

I have a lot of
feeling

I feel a lot of
energy
inside but it wants
to escape
a timid body
no longer sufficient
material
for a growing
energetic field
unknowing
that it’s simply
a trap of
attachment
to retain such runty residence
wanting to scream into the night
finally
screaming into the night

Port McNicoll
cold and still
crunch crunch crunch
snow changes to gravel
and we have found
piles and piles
now we need to climb or run
to keep moving forward
I’m the Queen of the Castle
I’m the King of the Castle
you’re the dirty rascal
YOU’RE the dirty rascal
made true by the rusty
sand on his face
dust on his clothes
so much gravel here
we wonder why they
wanted to convert
the cleanest aquifer
in the world
wanted to subvert
sustainability
for another gravel pit?
Did they get dust in their eyes?
Have they so quickly forgotten the ruin
of the planets they abandoned
after their resources ran dry?
Or is the pleasure of the kill?

A Great Horned angel in the night
hoots his rendition of
Something in Blue

We long to hear a duet
but it’s a solo performance tonight
a prophecy in part
if not a command
one not heeded for a year still

I am pretending
I’m a superhero
free of mundane existence
but feeling the
weighty entrapment
of earth life
human wishes
and someone else
constantly trying
to attach his leash
to mine
though I’ve
already
been cut free
he can’t see
and
I can’t see
the further I run
the further he follows

I am searching for a memory
within this memory
5 years old
visiting Grandpa at work
he has an office
on King Street
Mom points to pigeons landing on the balustrade
rooftops next door
we’ll feed them outside
I like Newton’s pendulum on the desk
3, 3, 2, 2, 1, 1, 1, 1
concentration born from curiosity
and then starved
can’t last
so I flip the bubbler upside down
and watch the trellis of weightless
globes travel against gravity
and perhaps my airy nature
too yearns to excurse upstream
while pretending I was first
to swim against the current
last to observe
salmon beside me
same difficult journey
they got there first
yet
diluted to desk ornament
just the same
ultimately for
one other pocket’s
profit

Port McNicoll
cold night
walking in the dark
catch glimpse of the stars
favourite constellation
shines down
three suns his belt
Orion poises his arrow
toward the next step
I take
not out in the lake
the mild wish
nothing compared
to enlightened craving
this time ’round
why are we like this
I want to cry
without replicating the search
for why
negative feelings arise
in my perfect life
hauntings of a past
I’ve not lived
being just twenty-five
so where does it come from
hoo-hooooooot
sings the night
as tears sting my eyes
crystalline drops fall
tried to outrun him
so he can’t
see me
small

For this emotion
it broke me
I could not comprehend
why my mind became crazy
and I couldn’t defend
my inner wisdom being
so delicate, so fair
trampled to pieces
with curses, warfare
self-sabotaging poisons
injected nightmare
mind became muddled
emotionally impaired
reason deceptive
self-cherishing deceit
reason defective
self-deprecate, repeat

Port McNicoll
still and cold
never felt one
could feel so old
he stood beside me
tried to take my hand
I hated myself and
my life so unplanned
I couldn’t regret
the good things I gained
but it’s still hard to forgive
the way I chose to behave
and still sometimes continue
to choose bad over good
and without self reflection
feel so misunderstood
until a burning desire
a need for change
drove me out of the house
and into the street
just his following footsteps
held me down
from behind
I’m still grateful for
how patient
how kind
he was
most times

Just the
one thing
he and I
could not fathom then
was how witchery brewed
when he denied my freedom
“It’s not safe” or “I’m lonely”
I longed to ignore
silly cries of unjust fear
thrust upon me once more
those were never my fears
just the cage just the light
always pinned down
always in sight
created madness such madness
the introvert curse
visibility birthed insanity
death couldn’t be worse
some time to heal
a winter alone
a fire for warmth
all others gone
only in such
secret silence
can I recuperate
my song
only in secret
stillness
finally, raison
wisdom
sensibility
freedom from earth
release from silly senses
imagination rebirth
writer’s block lifted
hateful stories destroyed
my reality shifted
compassion deployed
a new strength within me
to combat the old
and at last my destructive
tendencies controlled

Yet
if the process isn’t
respected
or worse left
ignored
the insanity boils
despair restored
reason deceptive
self-cherishing deceit
reason defective
self-deprecate, repeat
energy overflow
must go somewhere
to make a living punching bag
not at all fair
it’s time to heal
and how is that done?
questions I should have asked
before I moved on
lacking foresight
seeing only the past
heart break by hindsight
present don’t last
soon gift is gone
life moves too fast
future moments with him
I lost too soon
tortured by choices
a steed of Doom

When the energy
comes shaking
my rib cage vibrating
a hungry ghost
screaming from within
a need for destruction
as I can’t face the fear
I can’t feel the sorrow
As anger burns thin
It just turns to tears
Though I long to clear-cut
Whole forests with the rage that I feel
I simply toss a rock to hear
the splish splash splunk
in frigid water
or tin cold plunk on
and not yet through
the ice

Port McNicoll
empty and cold
brought me to my knees
made me feel so old
first so angry
then so blue
first shaking with rage
then wrung-out-rag-used
perceived imprisonment
before breaking loose
restraints granting rope-burn
inebriated bickering to sober truce
rebuilding future
from broken past
always keen dreamers
’cause madness don’t last

Lifetime different
but shit the same
struggling still
future rebirth already
though, virgin’s path following
and rocks with pockets filling feels
fire myself, sun setting, like I feel

Madness, an exoskeleton
help me shed
shed my help

Tags artistic license, canadian lit, creative writing, Firescape Fridays, northern ontario, poem, Poetry, port mcnicoll, relationship

Firescape Fridays Philosophy

Temiskaming Shores | FF 15

Post author By K. Samways
Post date September 2, 2022
No Comments on Temiskaming Shores | FF 15

Late spring 2018

What you risk reveals what you value. — Jeanette Winterson

When one finds themselves in an unexpected or surreal place, I think it is normal to start reflecting on the events that led them to that point. We go back in time and wonder if we could have forecasted any or all of it. I think leaders, public speakers and the ilk do it often. They think back to being the shy kid in school who didn’t put themselves “out there” and then appear on stage as if it was an inherent gift.

I can’t help but reflect on the adventures that led me to lying on the rocks of Temiskaming Shores on a cold spring day in late May. My fingertips chilled as I type hastily into my phone. Pen scratches on sticky notes with ideas for a blog post, poem or book. If I don’t write it down now, it will be lost forever. Or so I think.

Everyone experiences their inspiration differently. I met an author the other day. We had a decent conversation, and I got the name of his book. I sold him a subscription to Microsoft Word. I do that now. Sell things to people. In a way, I always have – in retail and non profit. And perhaps I always will. Somehow never in order to or with the intention of actually making personal profit or gain.

When I reflect back to my “old life” in Niagara, I didn’t imagine myself here. I could imagine adventure and travel and I had hope for some kind of success. But I didn’t know how to bury my acorns and have something grow. I didn’t know I could make my dreams come true. I was cynically optimistic or optimistically cynical, and I didn’t think that real love or happiness was possible for me, would be possible for me.

When the impossible happens to you, when you experience a miracle or a have a dream come true, you believe that experience can be true for everyone.

They just have to work harder, believe in themselves, cut out pictures from magazines and post them on a board they look at every day. I’m not so sure. I think we can all manifest our desires and a type of happiness that can sustain us in this life. But it’s not so easy for everyone. Some of us are born with a four leaf clover stamped on our souls (or a lucky horseshoe up one’s ass, as a friend would say). And others must face each of life’s hardships, often over and over, even watching others do the same.

I’m one of the lucky ones. I love an unlucky one. Luck is non-transferable, I’ve learned. It’s not even inspiring. It can cause resentment. Sometimes luck is not fortune. Sometimes it is hard work. But when you were born and raised in survival mode, and you’ve gained the knack or XP for surviving, it looks like fortune. It can even feel like fortune. Sometimes it feels like you don’t deserve what you have, and when things are good that they shouldn’t be.

This life is hard to navigate. You need people that make it better. You learn from them and they instill in you their hope and values. Sometimes, perhaps more often than not, people teach what not to do and who not to be. I have a running list of what not to do and who not to be. I have been burned and scarred from those I once respected. I have been stabbed by those I never trusted, but they got close enough to leave their mark nonetheless. I constantly yearn for a mentor. Someone who can teach me something I do not already know. I am such a fast learner. But my path has been made slow with obstacles that I would not let myself move around. Oh the amazing lessons I’ve learned and the gifts I’ve received! But none are what I’ve asked for.

Isn’t that the point, though?

Tags creative writing, evolution, firescape friday, lake temiskaming, love, northern ontario, ontario, personal thoughts, reflection, temiskaming shores

Firescape Fridays Philosophy

Effortless Escape | FF 14

Post author By K. Samways
Post date August 26, 2022
No Comments on Effortless Escape | FF 14

With each rain that comes, the plants and trees bear their happy adversity, making constant meaning from madness.

They do not stop to wallow in the swamp of their existence. They keep growing, often sacrificing their bodies for others.

There is no exasperation at the reckless imposition stabbed by man, only continual growth in spite of sabotage.

We are still the lonely hunters, destroying the homes of attachment-driven creatures grasping at their existence.

Tightly.

Shall we, instead, unfurl our leaves and enjoy the difficulties samsaric existence brings – in order to evade its illusive attack so that we may escape – at least the worries!

Growing wiser, effortlessly, as the plants, the trees.