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archives

writing

This tag is associated with 279 posts

Shy Heart

I have a shy hearteasily overpowered by the wants and needs of others.a silent heartthat holds its loves deep like a patch of green algaeat the base of a roiling waterfallhardly noticedcontributing littlebending wildly in the cacophony But perhaps one frosty springwhen the water is lowand the stream is covered with a narrow sheen of … Continue reading

brushed by dreams

My mind brushed by dreams, Like willow branches floating, On the ponds surface.

Green Nail Polish – a drabble

Today I went to Arlingcon. It was fun. One of the tracks was a writing prompts session (writer’s write in) done by the DFW writer’s workshop. We were given five to ten minutes to come up with a story. This is a story that I wrote. Prompt will be explained at the end. She was … Continue reading

Tax Time

Reading my receipts reveals

A woman who works, who

Goes to gas stations and grocery stores getting

Tacos, tea, and tic tacs

Continue reading

Writing – Demographics with a human face

So I read this article from 2013 What’s Killing Poor White Women? For most Americans, life expectancy continues to riseā€”but not for uneducated white women. They have lost five years, and no one knows why. By Monica Potts http://prospect.org/article/whats-killing-poor-white-women and I really liked the way that it was written. The author took a demographic trend … Continue reading

ART

Mad is the poet in the wilderness, Crying at the moon for its brightness. Full of the pink of the cherry blossoms, falling like snow.   Lost is the sculptor in creation, Tearing at the clay like a fireman. Digging to release the young maiden, hidden below.   Quiet, the songwriter listens, Dumbstruck by the … Continue reading

My Mother was Facebook

When my mother died, it was like a sudden internet outage. Like being caught in a tunnel. Suddenly there were no updates on the saga of my first cousin’s new job, no updates on my brother’s travel itinerary. It was as if the service was gone and the towers had been knocked down. Continue reading

Why I write Poetry?

Writing Poetry, Is distilling language down, to the very core.

The Blue Skull – Answer to a challenge

There was a challenge on tumblr to make a poem about this print. This is my entry. The Blue Skull In the mud of a hollow well, my bones rotting lie in the darkness of the day Black bugs crawl through the digits of my toes digging holes in the place where flesh once lay … Continue reading

They call them weeds

Yellow Sunflowers. Others call them weeds, and yet, They brighten my day.