Implications

Careful Rage -

Well-constructed consequences.
Thought and accepted.
Usually of the hurt.

Sneaky Rage -

Whispered in hallways,
Overheard by delicately shattering minds,
Wilting in on themselves
As a way to shrink into the background.

Hot Rage -

Typical.
Expected.
Well-known.

Cold Rage -

Hotter than hot rage,
The way scalding water leaves icy blisters
And fevers leave you shivering.

Weak Rage -

Of those who are tired,
And need anger more than sleep.


Most of the time description is not necessary.

9/30/2014
Riley Welch

Favorite Fridays

The Fish

    BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Although you hide in the ebb and flow

Of the pale tide when the moon has set,

The people of coming days will know

About the casting out of my net,

And how you have leaped times out of mind

Over the little silver cords,

And think that you were hard and unkind,

And blame you with many bitter words.

Rough

No one feels like that perfect last puzzle piece that slides into its edged spot with smooth satisfaction. 

We all feel a little rough

And a little less than perfect

Shoved into that slot

We test them out until we're snug. 

And some people get lucky

But most people just get close. 

Some people just have that one edge

That keeps them hanging 

Caught and unable I fit

Like maybe if someone had sanded a bit more

But that's a pointless thought

That's how it is

That's that

Make do

Find the slot. 

Come to peace with it. 

You are what you have. 

Even if you think you don't. 

Even if you think you have more.  

You are what you have. 

Make do. 

You can always make do and still do great. 

9/24/2014

Riley Welch

Color Calander

Pale pinky summer nights,
That fade to solid green days,
Painted in brick.
Along the road.
And done in many ways.

Purple peachy autumn afternoons,
Where leaves fall red and orange.
Splotchy
And collage-y
Mosaics of memories and 60 degrees.

Deep yellow-mustard winters
but hopefully not the snow.
That melt into clear reflections
Showing all it knows.

Dim lit tan springs,
With rainbows of new life.
And relief from winters cold
Begging to hold for one more crisp night.

9/24/2014
Riley Welch

Straight Lines

These legs have walked to bus stops

To trains and planes and cars

They've walked from houses and campus

They've taken me very far

These legs have walked in countries

In many different time zones

And even when my feet ache

My legs come without loan

These legs carried me miles

Days and weeks and years

Streets and paths and unmarked dirt

Strong and tall without fear

These legs have walked me everywhere

Without complaint or troubles

They are my tool of travel

I can conquer sand or rubble

These legs can conquer mountains 

And strut up any peak

And when they reach the top

Beauty lies below my feet

9/17/2014

Riley Welch

Favorite Fridays

In honor of a current project I am doing about Medusa:

On the Medusa of Leonardo Da Vinci

BY: PERCY SHELLEY

It lieth, gazing on the midnight sky, 
Upon the cloudy mountain peak supine;  
Below, far lands are seen tremblingly; 
Its horror and its beauty are divine. 
Upon its lips and eyelids seems to lie 
Loveliness like a shadow, from which shrine,  
Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath,  
The agonies of anguish and of death. 
 
Yet it is less the horror than the grace  
Which turns the gazer’s spirit into stone;
Whereon the lineaments of that dead face  
Are graven, till the characters be grown  
Into itself, and thought no more can trace; 
‘Tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown  
Athwart the darkness and the glare of pain,
Which humanize and harmonize the strain. 
 
And from its head as from one body grow, 
As [   ] grass out of a watery rock, 
Hairs which are vipers, and they curl and flow  
And their long tangles in each other lock,
And with unending involutions shew  
Their mailed radiance, as it were to mock  
The torture and the death within, and saw  
The solid air with many a ragged jaw. 
 
And from a stone beside, a poisonous eft
Peeps idly into those Gorgonian eyes; 
Whilst in the air a ghastly bat, bereft  
Of sense, has flitted with a mad surprise  
Out of the cave this hideous light had cleft, 
And he comes hastening like a moth that hies
After a taper; and the midnight sky  
Flares, a light more dread than obscurity. 
 
‘Tis the tempestuous loveliness of terror;  
For from the serpents gleams a brazen glare  
Kindled by that inextricable error, 35 
Which makes a thrilling vapour of the air  
Become a [ ] and ever-shifting mirror  
Of all the beauty and the terror there— 
A woman’s countenance, with serpent locks, 
Gazing in death on heaven from those wet rocks.

Steps

Plan
Travel
Print
Cash
Select
Detect
Eliminate

Plan
Travel
Print
Delete
Select
Elect
Nominate

Plan
Travel
Print
Increase
Up
Down
All Around
File
Done
Complete

9/24/2014
Riley Welch