I Don’t Feel Like Celebrating

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Abstract

al St Patricks Days of my youth Now wear the claddagh Eternal love and friendship My patron Saint is Lindsey</p></blockquote><blockquote id="1ba7"><p>Maybe one day I’ll forget that Lindsey passed on St Patty’s Day. No. Won’t. Can’t. You know what I mean. It was never my fucking holiday anyway, just an excuse to get drunk and do stupid things like drink green beer out of my friend’s sneakers in college. I don’t mean to yuck anyone’s yum. Lots of people die on holidays.</p></blockquote><p id="ea04">That lead to my current creation:</p><p id="0796">Today is Tuesday Feels like a moody Monday Why is that you ask? Somewhere over the rainbow Grief pockets stand in my way</p><p id="cb0d">Magical fairies St. Patrick’s Days of my youth Now wear the Claddagh Eternal love and friendship My patron saint is Lindsey</p><p id="b6bf">Deaths on every day Christmas, Chanukah, birthdays How to honor all Amidst all such joyful noise Say a prayer for the dead</p><div id="5b66" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/claddagh-eternity-7eaffa0988ac"> <div> <div> <h2>Claddagh Eternity</h2> <div><h3>Friendship, loyalty, and love</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*L4lBMQAUW6PbxDmHB2WjDA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="a5b9" class="link-block"> <a

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href="https://readmedium.com/toasting-lindsey-with-tankas-f738272aed7c"> <div> <div> <h2>Toasting Lindsey with Tanka</h2> <div><h3>On the actual deathiversary</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*mOgG4ngDWRib0CCVFPyK3Q.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="30bc" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/a-defiant-lovestory-89d431ba5bf9"> <div> <div> <h2>A Defiant Lovestory</h2> <div><h3>Tanka of “limitless undying love which shines around [us] like a million suns and calls [us] on and on across the…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*wpsd9vuA2MKf7m6xhdRFww.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="b832">In <a href="https://readmedium.com/i-speak-to-god-and-god-speaks-to-me-23bff8ec2274">Rama</a> I create, with soul energy surging through my body, inspiring me and breathing wind into my sails,</p><p id="cd56"><a href="https://marcus17043.medium.com/"><b>Marcus</b></a><b> </b>(<a href="https://readmedium.com/meet-gregory-maidman-83c00746a191">Gregory Maidman</a>)</p></article></body>

A tanka series of convergence of life and death

File ID: 415913978 by [email protected] licensed from depositphotos.com

My prompsponsive response to Lori’s (Ravyne Hawke) “Moody Monday” prompt “to write a ‘moody’ piece around any of the following:

— Follow the rainbow — Where does it lead? — a joyful noise — lost in the land of the Fae”

I often use the comment section as a sounding board. I left this comment on jules’s gorgeous piece:

Really great and beautiful tanka series but I have to riff in a different direction, I hope you don’t mind.

Truly magical St Patricks Days of my youth Now wear the claddagh Eternal love and friendship My patron Saint is Lindsey

Maybe one day I’ll forget that Lindsey passed on St Patty’s Day. No. Won’t. Can’t. You know what I mean. It was never my fucking holiday anyway, just an excuse to get drunk and do stupid things like drink green beer out of my friend’s sneakers in college. I don’t mean to yuck anyone’s yum. Lots of people die on holidays.

That lead to my current creation:

Today is Tuesday Feels like a moody Monday Why is that you ask? Somewhere over the rainbow Grief pockets stand in my way

Magical fairies St. Patrick’s Days of my youth Now wear the Claddagh Eternal love and friendship My patron saint is Lindsey

Deaths on every day Christmas, Chanukah, birthdays How to honor all Amidst all such joyful noise Say a prayer for the dead

In Rama I create, with soul energy surging through my body, inspiring me and breathing wind into my sails,