Saturday, October 31, 2009

Taste and See!

Psalm 34:4-8
"I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant;
their faces never covered with shame.
This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
he saved him out of his troubles.
The angel of the Lord ecamps
around those who fear him,
and he delivers them.

Taste and see that the Lord is good;
blessed is the man who takes refuge in him."

Monday, October 26, 2009

Pumpkin patch poetry

Muddy pools lead us
through the corn maze to giant
pumpkins, wheelbarrows
and slingshot contests that
we actually win this year.

So we bring home our prize,
golden and round, barely
in the back of our van with
its smaller cousins.

There are plans for
the carving, and plans
for the painting,
but I just
want the seeds,
toasted crisp and
salted sweet.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

A poem a day

A poem a day keeps the doctor away, right?
Maybe, maybe not.
I plan to try it out for the rest of the year.
Just short poetry, nonsense poetry, any day, every day, bad or good, rain or shine kind of poetry.
So here's one for the day (which means I can't submit it anywhere else because this is considered self-publishing . . . grumble, grumble).

Writing each day
Is like the apple
Keeping the doctor away
Making me unflappable
Or at least okay.

So, if you see it here, it's probably not my best stuff - but who knows, maybe there will be some hidden gems in the midst of all the mess.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Breath of Heven update

Haruah: Breath of heaven, found at just published some more material online!!! Not only do I like the new story and poem present there, I have another reason to be excited. I have a publishing contract with them for one of my poems, so sometime within the next 15 months, they will publish it. I hope. Now that I know that they are still publishing (they didn't put anything new at their site for three months), I have hope that my poem will make it online at their site sometime soon, and in their quarterly magazine. I didn't realize there were many quarterly e-zines in existence, since most e-zines publish at least weekly, and then possibly have print publications quarterly or annually.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Admission of Pride

Ok, I'll admit it. I overstepped myself the other day bragging about my kids donating to charities every year on facebook. The reality is that last year's giving basket was shoved into the back of a closet and forgotten. Well, not completely forgotten, but procrastinated in an extreme manner.
We gave shoeboxes filled with goodies to Samaritan's Purse. We gave to a food bank. My husband's office did the Christmas Tree with all the goodies for his work. Meanwhile, our giving basket went untouched.
So, finally, after realizing that I put my foot in mouth in an overly prideful brag, we finally gave that $71 my daughters saved away, along with matching funds from John and I.
Here's what my daughters decided to "spend" their giving money on:

A donation to World Medical Mission through Samaritan's Purse - $20
1 rabbit through World Vision (for a food source) - $16
donation for education for girls in developing countries - $35
5 fruit trees for food in developing countries - $30
Mosquito bed nets for one family, to protect them from malaria - $18
Help for children for disabilities - $25

Watching my girls pick out their favorite areas of giving was so wonderful, I had to wonder why I had procrastinated so long over doing this simple thing.

So, now the giving basket is empty, and if we want to fill it up by Christmas, which is our usual goal, we have only a short time. I know that God will provide.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Inspired by other writers

Sometimes, when my writing feels like I've stumbled through a thorn bush, I take some time to read.

Ok, I admit it. I take time to read on any given day, no matter what my writing has been like, however, there are days like today when that reading inspires me, and encourages me to write.
This morning, as I perused, I came across a light, funny, sci-fi story by Erin Ryan. It hit the spot.
Then I looked up her website, read some of her blog, and now I feel like tackling my own stories again. Somehow, reading another writer's experiences with writing, publishing and just living with stories running around in her head, inspires me to take my own writing a little further and push myself a little harder.

Because her writing struck my funny bone, and because her blog inspired me to write with more confidence, I invite you to check out Erin Ryan's story at and check out her website and blog at

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Another Stanza

Yesterday, having "Night Terrors" published at felt good, and yet worrisome. Despite all the encouraging comments from so many friends and family, I feel that there is something missing in that poem.
My husband and my kids, being delightfully and usually gently honest, said, "that's the end? It sounds like there should be a closing line."
Their words resonated with me, and I turned them over throughout the day, and this morning when I woke up.

So here's a shot at another, last stanza for "Night Terrors"

"Nearly sixty years later,
the night terrors still come
but he has found a shield.

He wakes up and
breathes in hope."

There isn't much there yet, but if I add that to the whole poem, and work with the wording more, I might have a poem I could be really proud of without any remorse or regret.

Saturday, October 10, 2009


Just wanted to shout it from the rooftops - I'm published! Again! And so far, people I know are still talking to me!

The first time I had a poem published, it had such emotional response from people I knew that I gained friends and lost friends.

"Night Terrors" is a poem that is almost as gritty as that first published poem, and I have been nervous about it's appearance at today. Hopefully, I won't have anyone walk up to me in the next couple of days and say, "I can't believe you wrote that trash. Don't ever speak to me again."

It is a poem based on bitterness. I know that. I wish I could have fanagled a little more hope into it, but I didn't.

Taken from my Dad's experiences with a charity hospital, his later post-traumatic stress symptoms, and then blended in my own imagination, this poem has a "reality" piece to it that makes it hard for me to share. But I am trying to meet my oldest daughter's definition of courage: to face my fears.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Mucking about

Getting published is like having excitement run through my veins, reaching every little corner of my being. However, getting a poem published that may or may not be "good enough" is kind of like having both excitment and dread running around at the same time. A strange combination that gives me strange dreams and nightmares at night and leaves me exhausted in the morning.
Even if it is publication online, with readership of maybe 100, maybe more . . . it is still exciting and worrisome.

And the horrible thing about all of it is that I've been afraid to write much. Ok, I've journaled, I've fiddled with some of my writing, adding a chapter here, and doing some editing/wordsmithing there, but it has been like walking through muck, with each step being a matter of pulling my foot out of 12 inches of slimy mud, hearing that suction sound as I finally get my foot out and then plunging it back into the mire mearly inches further.

Of course, as I write that, some part of me thinks . . . hey, that sounds like fun. I hope it rains enough soon to get some mud like that. My kids and I love playing in the mud.

So maybe walking through deep mud isn't a good analogy for what it feels like when I can't seem to find any of the right words to write, because I'm both excited and worried about the words that will be published in just four days with my name attached to them. Hmm. Another analogy . . . can't think of one - the inner editor in me is on full, and the creative part of me is staying silent, hiding and waiting for this all to pass. And now, I just sound crazy . . . trying to use my imagination to make sense of it all . . .

Thank God that He has the big picture of the universe in his hands . . .