Where do the words go
when they slip through the cracks
of my mental filing system?

And where is recognition
when words reappear,
no longer categorized
or referenced –
out of alphabetical order –

not even an inkling of recall
as if our acquaintance
is akin to discovery?

(Mental-pause first appeared here January, 2018. This version edited.
Image my own.)


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

43 thoughts on “Mental-Pause”

    1. I love scrabble. I actually lost my words with the onset of disease – inflammation on the brain. Some days worse than others, but that is what propels me to write. And, I play word games.


    1. Lol. Yesterday I could not remember the word hood, as in the cover for a car’s engine. I used “bonnet” instead, which is the British word, and my kids thought I’d totally lost it.

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  1. They don’t go to Heaven where the angels fly. They go down to the lake of fire and fry, see ’em again ’til the fourth of July. 🧨

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  2. Adore your image/painting V.J. and your poem is so relatable … here’s is my piece I wrote today ..
    Dawn and Twilight

    I missed out on the dawn sky
    morning did pass me by
    daylight grew wings and learnt to fly

    my horizon fades out of sight
    and twilight will turn into night
    before I begin to write

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