Prose and poetry that delve deeper

Eyes closed mind focussed on a fragrance sparked by the image of lilacs   Sandy’s words a “fragrance of simplicity” explode a kaleidoscope of memories Lush blooms spilling from a milk glass jug set on grandma’s table glowing purple Dappled light filtering through heart-shaped leaves onto a lavender-strewn lawn at season’s end French white solemn in crystal beside a coffin pristine and gentle beauty

Watching and Waiting: a poem

You may be getting tired of my bear photos, but I’m hoping you’ll bear with me a little longer. (I honestly didn’t intend that to be a pun!) I’ve been taking part (after a fashion) in a book study being done by a group of us on Facebook, organized by Sandra Heska King. The book is MAKING MANIFEST:

Thoughts, Words and Written Chaos

There’s nothing a writer likes better than to play with words. Sometimes — okay, maybe most times — we like the words to make some kind of sense… to resonate either with us as their creator or with potential readers. The choice of words and the order in which they are strung together determine how they affect us.

Poetry or Not (preferably not!)

  “Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” [Joseph Roux] During April I’ve been participating in National Poetry Month. Participating how, you may wonder; it’s a far stretch from novel writing. Well, I admit I didn’t write a single poem during the month. The initial challenge at Tweetspeak Poetry was to pick a poet and study

National Poetry Month, a Novel, and Now

Throughout the month of March many of us took part in a literary version of March Madness, daily working our way toward an assortment of writing-related goals. Now April has arrived, bringing with it National Poetry Month, and a new daily challenge — reading a poem a day. The challenge was dished out to me by Sandra Heska

Midweek Poetry Moment

“… ridged inch deep with pearl”

… . The snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. . Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl. . [James

Escape Into Winter

. An escape route that leads nowhere but away. Some days away is where I want to be. I could slip from the room unnoticed but not reach the bend out of sight, thanks to that fence. . There is always a fence. . . Eyes linger where my feet can’t go. There is perceived

A New Notebook for Words

. A brand new notebook! I’m giddy with excitement. Am I the only one who enters a store and heads straight for the stationery department? The only one to dally and daydream over choices before moving on to pick up other more mundane items on the shopping list? I have a stack of empty notebooks

Windows on Winter

Windows on winter Sun-blessed discoveries On a chilly morn Wandering ‘coon tracks Across my back deck Pressed in powdered snow Glimpses of beauty Branches of white lace Tree spears stretching tall Evergreens shiver Showering snow flakes To capture lost warmth Fresh winter snowfall Fluffy white crystals Dusting winter’s day ~ What’s your writing day like? Can