Okay, so I didn't blog yesterday, this is why. My cat, Wolfie, had a mishap with a dog or "something" and has bite marks on his butt. He is okay, but he had to go to the vet, it was a big fiasco including stupid visuals of cute kitty with "cone head"---hehehe...sorry, Wolfie. But, and I mean Butt...he is alright.
Yesterday, Heather and I had a wonderful day, cooking pizza from scratch, playing and being together. It was an awesome girl day and I wouldn't change a thing. I realize that every single thing I do helps my writing. Form reading tons of books to spending time with my husband or daughter, it all adds to my writing, as long as I write...so, off I go to land of writing! Well, I guess that I am technically already there! See you tomorrow, same time, same Bat channel!
Just a few of my lovely felted purses
Friday, July 31, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Life with a Daughter
My daughter is fascinated with febreeze. Who knew? If you would walk around my house, you would smell a mountain breeze here or a cool waterfall there. It is quite funny. I have not, nor will I ever be one of those women in the commercials though smelling upholstery, not my thing. Now, my floors are sticky from the residue, my robes on the back of the door are wet and when I walk in any bathroom---"whoa!" strong smell of overpowering non-nature. It is amazing to watch her wielding the sprayed smells around---two cans as if she is in a standoff at high noon. I am waiting for a tumbleweed to go by. I could see her, poncho on, her two cans at her sides in holsters...oh yeah, it is an image.
Life with a six year old daughter is indescribable unless you have a daughter---girls are funny. From makeup applications on the sly to accidentally forgetting to take off her two piece bathing suit and putting her clothes on over top. Other mothers have warned me of these things---everything from the almighty "I want a bra" scenario to "can I wear makeup?" and the most dreaded question, "Mom, can I go out on a date?" These are all things I dread and would love to turn to my daughter and say, you may date when you are thirty, but, I know better. I will just smile, count to ten and then answer or say, "talk to your father." Hey, it works for men the world round, why not for women too?
For now, I will face the loose teeth that gross me out, the farts that mimic her father's flatulence and the stinky feet---a new addition to our house. But, I hear, boys are way worse. So, for now, I laugh, I react and I count to ten...sometimes one hundred.
Life with a six year old daughter is indescribable unless you have a daughter---girls are funny. From makeup applications on the sly to accidentally forgetting to take off her two piece bathing suit and putting her clothes on over top. Other mothers have warned me of these things---everything from the almighty "I want a bra" scenario to "can I wear makeup?" and the most dreaded question, "Mom, can I go out on a date?" These are all things I dread and would love to turn to my daughter and say, you may date when you are thirty, but, I know better. I will just smile, count to ten and then answer or say, "talk to your father." Hey, it works for men the world round, why not for women too?
For now, I will face the loose teeth that gross me out, the farts that mimic her father's flatulence and the stinky feet---a new addition to our house. But, I hear, boys are way worse. So, for now, I laugh, I react and I count to ten...sometimes one hundred.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Summer Fun
So, what can I say, another day, more writing---let's go! I worked so hard on the blog yesterday, that I only edited my book...not good. So, I will keep it short today, just my thoughts for the day---a journal entry.
After a day of introspection, I must say that I feel great. I need coffee, but I feel good. Summer is wonderful for me to regroup and gear up for fall and teaching. The only problem I ever have with summer, is the heat. If summer was 65 to 72 degrees all summer---I would be in heaven. When I was in Maine for a week this summer, it was my perfect temperature. I was able to be outside without any MS symptoms. Someday, I hope to have a house in Maine and be able to vacation there each summer...even if it is a rental. It was wonderful. What was also great about it was spending so much wonderful time with my two sisters: Kate and Sarah. It was amazing. Kevin didn't get to go, but Heather and I did and we were able to do things together with my sisters, their husbands and my nephew, Oliver. So, I can't remember a more memorable summer. It has been wonderful. I also find myself wishing I was in Maine---right now. sigh....someday.
After a day of introspection, I must say that I feel great. I need coffee, but I feel good. Summer is wonderful for me to regroup and gear up for fall and teaching. The only problem I ever have with summer, is the heat. If summer was 65 to 72 degrees all summer---I would be in heaven. When I was in Maine for a week this summer, it was my perfect temperature. I was able to be outside without any MS symptoms. Someday, I hope to have a house in Maine and be able to vacation there each summer...even if it is a rental. It was wonderful. What was also great about it was spending so much wonderful time with my two sisters: Kate and Sarah. It was amazing. Kevin didn't get to go, but Heather and I did and we were able to do things together with my sisters, their husbands and my nephew, Oliver. So, I can't remember a more memorable summer. It has been wonderful. I also find myself wishing I was in Maine---right now. sigh....someday.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Writing it Down
I type and type,
fingers flying over the keys,
words trapped on a screen,
yet freed up for others to see.
Freedom of speech exercised.
I love language
and marvel at what comes forth.
Words are filled with feeling
tantalizing the senses
dripping off of tongues
uttering truths and falsehoods.
I long to only speak truth
unless it is to create worlds
that others want to look into
through the pages of my mind.
fingers flying over the keys,
words trapped on a screen,
yet freed up for others to see.
Freedom of speech exercised.
I love language
and marvel at what comes forth.
Words are filled with feeling
tantalizing the senses
dripping off of tongues
uttering truths and falsehoods.
I long to only speak truth
unless it is to create worlds
that others want to look into
through the pages of my mind.
Driven to Create
Feeling the pages flip through my mind,
Each numbered, flying around me,
the corners, moving like magic carpets,
memories, stories told by me.
So many things buzzing in the air.
Love of our craft, friendships for life,
common grounds, some coffee...
I love the me I see in the mirror.
I look and all around are my characters
whispering their stories in my ears.
I am merely the vessel the have chosen,
the word master with paper and pen.
My written words are their conflicts,
laughter, tears,
all things that make up the world of paper
that lies before me,
soon to be filled with their words,
their lives for all to see.
No more excuses,
no more doubts.
We are all writers,
we all have different stories to tell.
Now, it is time to listen and with our ears,
we may filter through our beings,
these works that must be created.
These treasures of our souls.
Each numbered, flying around me,
the corners, moving like magic carpets,
memories, stories told by me.
So many things buzzing in the air.
Love of our craft, friendships for life,
common grounds, some coffee...
I love the me I see in the mirror.
I look and all around are my characters
whispering their stories in my ears.
I am merely the vessel the have chosen,
the word master with paper and pen.
My written words are their conflicts,
laughter, tears,
all things that make up the world of paper
that lies before me,
soon to be filled with their words,
their lives for all to see.
No more excuses,
no more doubts.
We are all writers,
we all have different stories to tell.
Now, it is time to listen and with our ears,
we may filter through our beings,
these works that must be created.
These treasures of our souls.
Hummingbirds
I see the children,
laughing, lounging on a stoop.
A boy drawing on a girls leg,
daring his creativity to go farther.
Pens tracing a flower stem,
each petal drawn, one by one.
A laugh, hair tossed,
lashes flutter like butterflies
lips languishing, then open,
the boy cups her calf.
I am a voyeur among many,
witnessing this coupling
among mere children striving
to grow up too fast.
Small conversation, pushing of shoulders,
laughter again rings true.
Real emotion caught in a perspiring brow.
I see them, nerves a flutter,
hummingbirds,
captured for a moment,
on a stoop.
laughing, lounging on a stoop.
A boy drawing on a girls leg,
daring his creativity to go farther.
Pens tracing a flower stem,
each petal drawn, one by one.
A laugh, hair tossed,
lashes flutter like butterflies
lips languishing, then open,
the boy cups her calf.
I am a voyeur among many,
witnessing this coupling
among mere children striving
to grow up too fast.
Small conversation, pushing of shoulders,
laughter again rings true.
Real emotion caught in a perspiring brow.
I see them, nerves a flutter,
hummingbirds,
captured for a moment,
on a stoop.
Dare to fly
Whoosh!
Rope, taunt, moaning,
branches, dancing through the air.
Defying gravity, legs pumping,
Flying for a moment.
The ebb and flow of the air around me,
grabbing at my calves.
I hold the hemp, fingers wrapped,
my smiles pressed against the sun,
Eyelids, hot then cool, kissed by the caressing wind.
Hair, grabbing onto the atmosphere around me.
Back and forth.
Tree of life,
suspending me for a moment,
holding onto my childhood,
nature nurturing my soul.
I climbed your body and saw beyond my world.
You held me on your shoulders,
mother to me and to many,
your branches lifted me through to adulthood.
Your roots grounded me in the past.
Whoosh!
Back and forth,
my curls flowing in the wind,
my legs pumping,
daring to jump...
over fences,
no destination in place,
flying high...into tomorrow.
Rope, taunt, moaning,
branches, dancing through the air.
Defying gravity, legs pumping,
Flying for a moment.
The ebb and flow of the air around me,
grabbing at my calves.
I hold the hemp, fingers wrapped,
my smiles pressed against the sun,
Eyelids, hot then cool, kissed by the caressing wind.
Hair, grabbing onto the atmosphere around me.
Back and forth.
Tree of life,
suspending me for a moment,
holding onto my childhood,
nature nurturing my soul.
I climbed your body and saw beyond my world.
You held me on your shoulders,
mother to me and to many,
your branches lifted me through to adulthood.
Your roots grounded me in the past.
Whoosh!
Back and forth,
my curls flowing in the wind,
my legs pumping,
daring to jump...
over fences,
no destination in place,
flying high...into tomorrow.
Pottery
I am so many things.
So much makes up me.
Play dough morphing, changing colors.
Chameleon to many, able to adapt.
The many faces deem my role,
characters in life and playing the parts.
Real, but different from each other.
Teacher to mother, wife to writer.
We all are clay that changes
throughout its journey,
from soft to hard,
still able to trim off parts of our exterior,
hardened the outside circumstances.
Our glaze, shining, yet,
even then, we are fragile,
able to crack if dropped.
But, we are resilient and capable...
we shall continue on our road,
cracks and all,
All of the wear and tear,
Only adds to what is us,
the beloved creation that shines through.
So much makes up me.
Play dough morphing, changing colors.
Chameleon to many, able to adapt.
The many faces deem my role,
characters in life and playing the parts.
Real, but different from each other.
Teacher to mother, wife to writer.
We all are clay that changes
throughout its journey,
from soft to hard,
still able to trim off parts of our exterior,
hardened the outside circumstances.
Our glaze, shining, yet,
even then, we are fragile,
able to crack if dropped.
But, we are resilient and capable...
we shall continue on our road,
cracks and all,
All of the wear and tear,
Only adds to what is us,
the beloved creation that shines through.
Tapestry
Strength is key in my worth,
value of self appears in eyes open wide.
Virtue and acceptance intermingle with my being.
My mind, filled with memories
of my threads of life, my woven tapestry
pieced together, line by line.
Yarn flying back and forth,
building, then ripped apart.
Rewoven and made again...
different, yet clear that it is tightly formed anew...
brighter this time, more vibrant...raw,
yet real...
filled with...reality.
value of self appears in eyes open wide.
Virtue and acceptance intermingle with my being.
My mind, filled with memories
of my threads of life, my woven tapestry
pieced together, line by line.
Yarn flying back and forth,
building, then ripped apart.
Rewoven and made again...
different, yet clear that it is tightly formed anew...
brighter this time, more vibrant...raw,
yet real...
filled with...reality.
Listening to your mind
Puppet masters, ring leaders,
we wield the strings---or so we think we do.
Like a parent, molding memories int fiction
or making it up as we go along,
we create.
So much we cannot control.
To truly control characters on a page,
is to hinder their growth.
They must be free to BE.
The best kind of character is one that will not cooperate.
For that means that your characters have become real.
We meet many a stubborn character who faces off with us,
their creators.
Daring for us to draw first or, in this case,
put words in his or her mouth.
So many characters, stubborn,
whispering their intentions to us.
It is up to us to listen
OR deny their rights and in the end,
either create a character or a person
who many can relate to.
We are the storytellers, the keepers
of created tales,
the mediums of our created fellows
recording their lives
for all to see.
Denying nothing in order to get it right.
Follow your characters,
listen to their stories,
walk their paths with them,
for it is...all about the journey.
we wield the strings---or so we think we do.
Like a parent, molding memories int fiction
or making it up as we go along,
we create.
So much we cannot control.
To truly control characters on a page,
is to hinder their growth.
They must be free to BE.
The best kind of character is one that will not cooperate.
For that means that your characters have become real.
We meet many a stubborn character who faces off with us,
their creators.
Daring for us to draw first or, in this case,
put words in his or her mouth.
So many characters, stubborn,
whispering their intentions to us.
It is up to us to listen
OR deny their rights and in the end,
either create a character or a person
who many can relate to.
We are the storytellers, the keepers
of created tales,
the mediums of our created fellows
recording their lives
for all to see.
Denying nothing in order to get it right.
Follow your characters,
listen to their stories,
walk their paths with them,
for it is...all about the journey.
Full Heart
I miss you...
Among the chatter, the laughter, the fun,
I miss your arms around me.
This world, short lived, is fast paced,
amazing, all encompassing.
But, in my glimmering moments
of sighs and smiles, I think of your face,
you lines around your eyes as you smile at me.
I love each line, each crevice of your past
found in the surface of you.
I love your world together,
So fun, so real, we breathe life in
and exhale in a laugh.
My soul mate, my heaven,
my world. I love you,
as the world around me is all abuzz,
the ideas flying from person to person,
the din of the characters talking
whirls around, landing on the likely
tellers of their tales.
Amongst this amazement of creativity,
I am whole and with you,
I may be with you forever knowing
full well now
that I will recede to this world whenever
the computer keys plink, plink, plink
out the stories that must be told
for others to see.
The spider-like fingers
spelling out the conflicts of many,
the mishaps of my characters,
the laughter, the sadness
all on the screen before me.
Thank you for your tolerance
and for hold, all that I am,
to your soul.
Among the chatter, the laughter, the fun,
I miss your arms around me.
This world, short lived, is fast paced,
amazing, all encompassing.
But, in my glimmering moments
of sighs and smiles, I think of your face,
you lines around your eyes as you smile at me.
I love each line, each crevice of your past
found in the surface of you.
I love your world together,
So fun, so real, we breathe life in
and exhale in a laugh.
My soul mate, my heaven,
my world. I love you,
as the world around me is all abuzz,
the ideas flying from person to person,
the din of the characters talking
whirls around, landing on the likely
tellers of their tales.
Amongst this amazement of creativity,
I am whole and with you,
I may be with you forever knowing
full well now
that I will recede to this world whenever
the computer keys plink, plink, plink
out the stories that must be told
for others to see.
The spider-like fingers
spelling out the conflicts of many,
the mishaps of my characters,
the laughter, the sadness
all on the screen before me.
Thank you for your tolerance
and for hold, all that I am,
to your soul.
Writers Workshop
The room around me filled with the learned.
Minds open, ready for more input.
Pens racing across the page,
nods of bobble heads
as the teacher preaches all he knows.
We sit, transfixed,
yet our monkey minds go
in many directions:
"Did I turn off the coffeepot?"
"What did he just say?"
"Where do we want to go for lunch?"
PowerPoint pictures shine
in bold colors before us,
then, black and white.
The world of academia
being pushed in the corners
of its structured four walls.
Our boxes, ripping open,
becoming whatever we make of them.
I have to smile at my surroundings.
So many stories in one room.
You can almost hear the buzz
of each character talking
in the minds of so many writers.
Masters of language...
doubting their abilities.
Trust artists, humble and eager.
Minds speaking volumes of
what is to be written down for all to see
or...only one.
Minds open, ready for more input.
Pens racing across the page,
nods of bobble heads
as the teacher preaches all he knows.
We sit, transfixed,
yet our monkey minds go
in many directions:
"Did I turn off the coffeepot?"
"What did he just say?"
"Where do we want to go for lunch?"
PowerPoint pictures shine
in bold colors before us,
then, black and white.
The world of academia
being pushed in the corners
of its structured four walls.
Our boxes, ripping open,
becoming whatever we make of them.
I have to smile at my surroundings.
So many stories in one room.
You can almost hear the buzz
of each character talking
in the minds of so many writers.
Masters of language...
doubting their abilities.
Trust artists, humble and eager.
Minds speaking volumes of
what is to be written down for all to see
or...only one.
A Cacophony of Words
Languishing, lovingly,
serendipitous supple strokes
of ink on parchment.
Language filling the page.
Worlds waiting to be formed.
Living microcosms of my mind.
I work to write...toil alone,
but alone no more.
Surrounded by sweet sounds
of voice like mine
whose thurst for language
is a ringing in their ears
that won't stop until
the written word is complete.
Peers, fellow sojourners
in the community of writers.
Feeling our way blindly
through this thing,
this existence we call WRITER.
We strive, now together,
to define our own worlds...
together, not solitary,
voices striving to be heard
above the whir of life.
serendipitous supple strokes
of ink on parchment.
Language filling the page.
Worlds waiting to be formed.
Living microcosms of my mind.
I work to write...toil alone,
but alone no more.
Surrounded by sweet sounds
of voice like mine
whose thurst for language
is a ringing in their ears
that won't stop until
the written word is complete.
Peers, fellow sojourners
in the community of writers.
Feeling our way blindly
through this thing,
this existence we call WRITER.
We strive, now together,
to define our own worlds...
together, not solitary,
voices striving to be heard
above the whir of life.
The Fog
The mist, moist, envelops me
wraps me in its dampness.
All of me covered in natures droplets.
The world comforts me in its
billowing blankets of white.
Clouds on earth covering all.
A mystery of space filling
all around with cover.
I see, though I am blind.
The fog holds me in its arms,
I am nurtured by its love embrace.
wraps me in its dampness.
All of me covered in natures droplets.
The world comforts me in its
billowing blankets of white.
Clouds on earth covering all.
A mystery of space filling
all around with cover.
I see, though I am blind.
The fog holds me in its arms,
I am nurtured by its love embrace.
Decadence
The succulent peach...
juices dripping,
chin covered in voluptuousness.
Abundant taste pours over me.
Caught on my pallet to linger on my mind.
Memories of peaches past.
Childhood romps with the
warmth of the sun.
Dirt stirred up into my nostrils
mingling with tastes of harvest time.
Peaches...forever linger on my mind.
juices dripping,
chin covered in voluptuousness.
Abundant taste pours over me.
Caught on my pallet to linger on my mind.
Memories of peaches past.
Childhood romps with the
warmth of the sun.
Dirt stirred up into my nostrils
mingling with tastes of harvest time.
Peaches...forever linger on my mind.
Cold Glass
I see the glass in front of me.
Shiny, flat, covered with droplets,
tears from the sky.
I touch its cold surface with my cheek.
Cold, chilling, a compress of energy
felt through my features.
I see all in my minds eye.
Eternal connection to the elements.
I feel the world around me.
I touch my lips to the glass,
kissing the night air.
Hot breath, warming the surface.
A circle of heat...memories of yesterday
found in a smiley face adorning the glass.
Happiness seen for a mere minute.
Don't worry, be happy...
Happiness in connection, child to adult,
memories found again...
in a smile...
Shiny, flat, covered with droplets,
tears from the sky.
I touch its cold surface with my cheek.
Cold, chilling, a compress of energy
felt through my features.
I see all in my minds eye.
Eternal connection to the elements.
I feel the world around me.
I touch my lips to the glass,
kissing the night air.
Hot breath, warming the surface.
A circle of heat...memories of yesterday
found in a smiley face adorning the glass.
Happiness seen for a mere minute.
Don't worry, be happy...
Happiness in connection, child to adult,
memories found again...
in a smile...
Morning
A drop of dew falls against my skin,
I feel the moisture of the morrow.
A chill in the air...
Breath seen as if connected to nature.
I feel the crispness of the morning all around.
So much life, invigorating, joy.
The sun smiles on the land,
bringing forth its warm kiss.
Gathering the chill in its embrace.
The dew dries up and the glow of morning covers all.
I feel the moisture of the morrow.
A chill in the air...
Breath seen as if connected to nature.
I feel the crispness of the morning all around.
So much life, invigorating, joy.
The sun smiles on the land,
bringing forth its warm kiss.
Gathering the chill in its embrace.
The dew dries up and the glow of morning covers all.
Me in a Nutshell
So many things to so many people. Mother, Wife, Teacher, daughter, friend. My arms pulled like taffy meets Stretch Armstrong. "No good writer is a good parent, no good parent is a good writer." The hats I wear are aplenty. They teeter on my head as that of a circus performer teetering high above on a thin wire. I live for so many, including myself. A world where I am the "peace maker," "counselor," "mother to many" and more. I ask only to focus on me and my writing on what I have been doing all of my life, yet have put off more times than I can count due to being a mom, a teacher, a wife. I live in a world full of happiness now. A new life with my daughter and a new husband. I tell many people that I am blessed. They look at me funny after they hear my story.
Ode to Coffee
I sit here, facing a future filled with smiles,
All around are many who love me,
The looking glass is filled with crazy morning hair, curls abound.
Time to make the coffee, I rise.
Each day, a writing world around me,
I see clearly after the percolation happens,
Caffeine with a smile.
My brain triggers, words flow and my mind is clear,
Time to write my world away, making it more whole.
A patchwork of words, coming together to make a quilt of my stories.
Stitch by stitch, it is not about completion, it's about the journey.
A journey made possible by this mind that works for me, most of the time.
As long as I stand over the steam of the cappuccino machine.
All around are many who love me,
The looking glass is filled with crazy morning hair, curls abound.
Time to make the coffee, I rise.
Each day, a writing world around me,
I see clearly after the percolation happens,
Caffeine with a smile.
My brain triggers, words flow and my mind is clear,
Time to write my world away, making it more whole.
A patchwork of words, coming together to make a quilt of my stories.
Stitch by stitch, it is not about completion, it's about the journey.
A journey made possible by this mind that works for me, most of the time.
As long as I stand over the steam of the cappuccino machine.
Monday, Monday, Monday
Hello to all! So, I have promised myself that I would use my blog as a start up for each day of writing. I promise to write whatever is on my mind, so here goes!
Yesterday, Kevin, Heather and I went to the Clark County Fair. It was fun and amusing all at the same time. To see the people walking around and watch them is just fascinating! I had more fun watching a karaoke guy singing SONG after SONG after SONG. Everything from country to Barry Manillow. It was a sight to see. He sat surrounded by his protective machines and just sang his heart out. I would have loved it more, I think, if he was wearing sequins or a cowboy hat---one extreme to the other, that would have been nice.
As a vegan, I can't eat much beyond salads in the normal restaurant or sauteed veggies, so---throw me into the "land of the fried" and I am clueless! I ended up with fried vegetables, which were totally soaked in oil. Needless to say, I am now paying for my actions as my body was not amused with my antics. Such is the life of this vegan in Greaseville, USA.
Yesterday, Kevin, Heather and I went to the Clark County Fair. It was fun and amusing all at the same time. To see the people walking around and watch them is just fascinating! I had more fun watching a karaoke guy singing SONG after SONG after SONG. Everything from country to Barry Manillow. It was a sight to see. He sat surrounded by his protective machines and just sang his heart out. I would have loved it more, I think, if he was wearing sequins or a cowboy hat---one extreme to the other, that would have been nice.
As a vegan, I can't eat much beyond salads in the normal restaurant or sauteed veggies, so---throw me into the "land of the fried" and I am clueless! I ended up with fried vegetables, which were totally soaked in oil. Needless to say, I am now paying for my actions as my body was not amused with my antics. Such is the life of this vegan in Greaseville, USA.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
LUCKY
I feel so lucky, so blessed. As I sit here typing, I am encouraged by so many amazing people from family to friends, I am blessed. Not everyone can say that they do what they love every single day. I do. I love to live life, enjoy time with my family and I love to write. I have been writing since I can remember and poetry has always come to me easily. I am excited at what is in store for me as I have just married a wonderful and kind man as of June 20th.
I have been told by many that, in order to be a true writer, you must write everyday. That is why this blog exists. In order for me to work on my fiction writing, I first must focus on my nonfiction---on me. I know that may sound strange to some, but I am a creature of habit and in order for me to see the "big picture," I must first focus on what I know to be true---my life.
I am writing a book that has a deadline for creation of January 2nd. Life is good. I can rise to this challenge. I am excited that others find my writing to be enjoyable and I thank my friends, fellow writers I met at the Antioch Writers Workshop for that. Thanks to them, I can write everyday without worrying, "am I good enough? Will people want to read what I write?" and typical questions like that. These questions are the enemies of all writers. I am thankful for all the talent I was born with and the drive I learned. Thank you all for helping me to be me.:)
I have been told by many that, in order to be a true writer, you must write everyday. That is why this blog exists. In order for me to work on my fiction writing, I first must focus on my nonfiction---on me. I know that may sound strange to some, but I am a creature of habit and in order for me to see the "big picture," I must first focus on what I know to be true---my life.
I am writing a book that has a deadline for creation of January 2nd. Life is good. I can rise to this challenge. I am excited that others find my writing to be enjoyable and I thank my friends, fellow writers I met at the Antioch Writers Workshop for that. Thanks to them, I can write everyday without worrying, "am I good enough? Will people want to read what I write?" and typical questions like that. These questions are the enemies of all writers. I am thankful for all the talent I was born with and the drive I learned. Thank you all for helping me to be me.:)
Yesteryear on Canvas
Brush strokes, one defining a face
Each element coming together
Features come to light
Supple structure, curves
Rounding every angle
I see each part becoming one
Paint adorned on canvas,
Love shines through the
Circle of an eye,
The corner of a smile
Captured on canvas.
Smells of oils and acrylic all around
Found in my yesteryear, my today.
Beauty in many a moment
Held on walls of time.
Portraits with voices heard
By those who listen.
I yearn to know their stories
And see through their eyes.
Each element coming together
Features come to light
Supple structure, curves
Rounding every angle
I see each part becoming one
Paint adorned on canvas,
Love shines through the
Circle of an eye,
The corner of a smile
Captured on canvas.
Smells of oils and acrylic all around
Found in my yesteryear, my today.
Beauty in many a moment
Held on walls of time.
Portraits with voices heard
By those who listen.
I yearn to know their stories
And see through their eyes.
My Love
I see you, the man before me.
The smile culminating in a fan of wrinkles around each eye.
Beautiful you are to me.
I see the indented fortress of your face.
That which I love to hold in my hands.
I see your smile and the miles behind it filled with future.
Thank you for your smile and thank you for mine.
I love thanks to you and see me.
I see all that is in front of us in our looking glass.
All that can be, all that shall be.
Thank you for me.
The smile culminating in a fan of wrinkles around each eye.
Beautiful you are to me.
I see the indented fortress of your face.
That which I love to hold in my hands.
I see your smile and the miles behind it filled with future.
Thank you for your smile and thank you for mine.
I love thanks to you and see me.
I see all that is in front of us in our looking glass.
All that can be, all that shall be.
Thank you for me.
Woman of Many Hats
Hello, I am Jen Martin: teacher, writer, widow, wife, mother, daughter and I have MS. My world is one filled with so much and I am truly blessed. I have an amazing six-year-old named Heather. She is my everything. I have been through a lot in my thirty-eight years. I lost my husband October 23, 2007 after six hours of surgery. He had ulcers all through his stomach and up to his esophagus. His official cause of death was---an enlarged heart. After loosing him, I found myself. After being with him for twelve and a half years, I figured out my reason for being. It wasn't just to be the woman of many hats, it was to be a person that is taking part in the world of the living.
After dealing with so much in my life during 2007, which included my MS diagnosis, I realized that it was important for me to realize that I MATTERED. Everything I did in my life---MATTERED. So, I started to be that person I was always meant to be. I started to live. I looked at my daughter, then four and saw that, in order for her to respect me and know her OWN self worth, I had to be the TRUE me. And, I am thankful to say that I am.
I met a man named Kevin who truly changed my life. He dragged me out of the despair I was in and made me see the truth, made me see the beauty that is me. I am not talking about anything superficial, I am talking about the raw beauty you hope to find in yourself. This, I found in me. After too many years of appeasing the world, I finally was true, real to the core. I was, in a sense, naked to the world, baring myself in raw emotion.
In meeting Kevin, I found the me that I wanted to be. Now, I am not condoning the idea that it takes a man to "find yourself" or that you need a man, because---you don't. You need love of yourself. I found this before I met Kevin, but he helped me to hold onto what was important to me. I am so much more than the woman of many hats. I just had to look in the mirror and then dare, like Alice, to go through it and beyond. Welcome to my journey.
After dealing with so much in my life during 2007, which included my MS diagnosis, I realized that it was important for me to realize that I MATTERED. Everything I did in my life---MATTERED. So, I started to be that person I was always meant to be. I started to live. I looked at my daughter, then four and saw that, in order for her to respect me and know her OWN self worth, I had to be the TRUE me. And, I am thankful to say that I am.
I met a man named Kevin who truly changed my life. He dragged me out of the despair I was in and made me see the truth, made me see the beauty that is me. I am not talking about anything superficial, I am talking about the raw beauty you hope to find in yourself. This, I found in me. After too many years of appeasing the world, I finally was true, real to the core. I was, in a sense, naked to the world, baring myself in raw emotion.
In meeting Kevin, I found the me that I wanted to be. Now, I am not condoning the idea that it takes a man to "find yourself" or that you need a man, because---you don't. You need love of yourself. I found this before I met Kevin, but he helped me to hold onto what was important to me. I am so much more than the woman of many hats. I just had to look in the mirror and then dare, like Alice, to go through it and beyond. Welcome to my journey.
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