Tag Archive | poetry

Niht Dance

The stars were crisp and clear 

in the night sky. 

Tree tops reached, 

trying to touch the tiny dancers, 

but they spun away,

too and fro, 

in a dance only

 a master can teach.

 Did they spin to and fro,

 or was the world

 spinning in its own dance?

Or did I finally 

Finally 

have a chance to see 

Night in all her glory

and breathe?

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Bones

I saw the bones

Of the world

Washed up on shore

Stripped bare of the

Taint of hate

Laying side by side

One atop another

Coexisting
No care for male 

Or female

Republican or Democrat

Black or white

Brown or tan.
How long until

We no longer

Need to wait

Until we’re bones?

Authorial Intent & Readers

First, when speaking of authorial intent, I’m not talking about when you write a tragic love scene but somehow everyone who reads it is laughing hysterically when they should be crying.That is craft and beyond the scope of this 🙂

No, for today, we’re talking about the task of trying to figure out what a passage means (as dictated by the author), or who a poet is writing to. You know, fun stuff.

But is it? I know in college we had to play these games, and back it up with “proof” from the manuscript, but the truth of the matter is… None of it mattered. Not one whit, to my reader self.

My reader self saw a line from one of the cannon and went “oh”, quiet and small in the beauty of the phrase. I wasn’t concerned about the implications of the phrase, about who the narrator was speaking to, or any of that.

I was wrapped in the beauty of the words.

And that is what, ultimately, we writers want. We want readers to become wrapped up in our worlds, our words.

Does it matter to you who I wrote the following to:

 

We danced in
the kitchen,
sunshine just
kissing the sky.
The whole world
wrapped in my arms.
We sang your
favorite lullabye
before the day came
to take us our
separate
ways.

 

Does it matter who I wrote it to? What I wrote it about? Or does it ultimately matter more what you get from reading it? As writers, we map a journey. We do it artfully, with any luck, but we map it out. The reader must take the journey.

So.

Authorial intent.

I never really cared who Shakespeare wrote his sonnets to. I only wished someone loved me enough to try and pretend they had written one for me LOL

 

Have a wonderful weekend, my lovelies, filled with writing or reading. Or both.

 

 

Shifting Sideways: When work becomes play

I may have mentioned my dirty little secret: I love stationary. I adore it. I like cards, specifically, that have no printing on the inside. I write in them in portrait mode, whether the picture is portrait or landscape. Don’t know why I write in them like that, I just do. At least I don’t just sit there and look at them in all their glory, spread across my bed.. At least not all the time.

I do write letters. Copious amounts of letters.

I had started playing with pictures and words when it came to my stories:

The dragon burped, sending blue sparkles all

And then I had the post with Mel. The one with the visual poetry? Breaking Rythm can be found here if the link doesn’t work: https://wynwords.wordpress.com/2015/07/22/breaking-rhythm-tribe-tuesday/

And my brain has exploded within the past two weeks.

What if… What if…. I could combine two of my favorite things? AWESOME! Even if I only ever make the cards for me, this is something that I love love love!

Here’s the one I’m working on right now:

Poem Stone Multimedia

The title has changed, as has the font and color of the font. Still couldn’t get it quite right, so have sent it off to Leyla, my niece (who also sometimes admins my facebook page for me – Hi Leyla!). I’ve also done one for a friend, and will do another one for her.

This is play. This is fun.

This is joy.

And we should all have something in our lives that brings us joy.

What are you doing in  your writing life, or life in general, that brings you joy?

© 2015 Wynelda Ann Deaver All Rights Reserved

Little Boys, Elderly Parents & Friends with Depression

The Poetry Edition

I recently had a phone call, where I was told that I am a natural “mothering” type of person. I like to take care of everyone, nurture them, all that good stuff. But I also need to learn to let go, to remember that not every battle is mine to fight, and sometimes people need to grow on their own. Mother and Smother are very close.

Last weekend, I broke a glass. I told the Princeling to stay out. Except, he didn’t. He calmly put on his shoes, gave me mine, then went to get the big dust pan. I swept up, and he picked up the larger pieces of glass and placed them carefully in the dust pan. The entire time, I was biting my tongue trying to keep the words behind my teeth.

Don’t do that! You’ll cut yourself! I don’t care if I bleed, but I can’t stand it when you do! What actually came out of my mouth was Be Careful.

He took the dust pan out, emptied it in the garbage can, and we went on. Except, you know… It hit me. My son is growing up. Helping. Taking care of me, even when it’s not all roses and sunshine.

Roses have thorns, and sunshine can burn, so I guess there really is no safe way to allow him to grow and never get hurt.

It was a broken glass. No drama, no life coming to an end. But something happened, and he came and helped his mom. Even if my neck muscles tightened as he helped me.

Then there’s my dad. I love my dad. He’s my hero, and one of my best friends. He’s still regaining what he lost, but he’s home. He’s walking with the help of a walker, and starting out with a cane. He does his exercises regularly, and enjoys going out. Nothing’s going to stop him.

Especially not a paranoid daughter.

He went out to the garage to wait for my son’s bus (which was late). Ok, fine. Except… When he first came home, I was trying to get someone to make a dump run for all the crap in there that has to go. His old recliner (replaced with mine), and old toilet (I know, I KNOW!), some wood and a broken lawn chair.

And dad went out into that mess to wait for my son.

You know, the mess that I’m afraid will kill me, let alone my father?

I can deal with him walking out to the mail box. He’s doing more and more and more every day. But that garage scares me. Now, I know my dad is a tough old war bird. He’s 89 and of sound mind. I need to let go, and let him be. I also called and rescheduled that dump run. I’m done waiting for it.

Done!

So that takes care of the two closest to me. But then, then… there’s my friends. I’ve touched before on the fact that I have had situational depression. It is nothing compared to what they go through, their struggles. I have no idea what they go through every day, one still in the midst of it and one keeping the delicate balance of not sliding back in.

There really is only one way to try and express my feelings about it. As a person who loves someone living with mental illness.

It took three tries.

Three.

A magical number.

Poem 1:

Tell the demons I’m here to stay,
There is no playground
For them to frolic
I locked the gate-
Threw away the key.
I smiled at each
And every
single
one
as my blade
shaped by love
Conviction
Strength
Love
Friendship

Pierced them
One
by
bloody
one

Until all heed
My battle cry
Be gone!

Yah, I loved that poem. Kick ass, it is. It’s also patently false. I cannot see, feel or fight their demons for them. It’s what I’d love to do. But I can’t fight their battles. They have to fight them on their own. No matter how much it kills those of us that love them.

Poem#2

I will hold the sword
as you ready for battle
I will hold the line
as tightly as I can
while you don your
armour piece by piece
Don’t forget the heart
Never forget the heart

I will walk with you by your side,

step
by
bloody
step
through the garden of your demons.
Although~
I feel helpless
and afraid
for this is a battle
you must fight

Why can’t I slay
               them for you?

I will stand beside you offering what I may.

This second one feels truer than the first, but it is also a pretty lie. We can’t walk with them, can’t help in so many ways. I can’t make the fear and depression go away even if I’m right there with them. It feels like there is no way at all to  do anything to help our loved ones. We want the battle to be fought and won, but that’s not how it works.
But there is something we can do. Even though it kills us. We, the nurturers, the mothers, made by God to help…. It feels so often as if we are failing them, failing ourselves.  But we’re not…

Poem #3 Sojourn

I cannot wield the sword
To destroy your demons
I cannot walk this mile
In your shoes…

Nor any other.

The tangled leaves blowing
Through your depression
Are a mystery to me.

So I sit here,
Quietly,
Holding a candle
That it might…

Maybe…

Possibly…

Send a glow of warmth
On your cold sojourn back.

I love you, my friends. I’ll try to keep lighting that candle: whether it’s with notes or phone calls or visits. I will always have a candle going for you.

© 2015 Wynelda Ann Deaver All Rights Reserved

Beautiful Days

So the trip to Disney was great. Much needed break from everyday life~ a chance to recharge the batteries. I’m sorry I didn’t post last weekend as promised, but I was a little stressed trying to make sure that I had everything packed.

Now that the tiredness from the traveling has faded, it was time to set down to work. Writing work. Specifically, I wrote a poem based on the ride “Haunted Mansion.” It is exactly 10 lines, so it will be going up for my 10×10 post for the Mocha Memoirs Press Blog. I’ll make sure to post the linkage for you as soon as it goes live.

I’ll be having a guest post soon on Rie Sheridan Rose’s blog as well. About not my first sale, but the first time I felt like an actual writer.

I’ve subscribed to the digital edition of Writer’s Digest Magazine.

I’ve started a novel.

I’m keeping a running log of ideas….

In general, folks, I have to say…. I think I’m going all writerly again. However, I’m still a voracious reader, so I’ll do a couple of reviews a week and a couple of writing posts. How does that sound to you?  

I know i’m behind on posting some of my reviews… I’ll get them up this week.

So. How’s your writing going? Read any good books lately? If not, go look up Wynelda Deaver on Amazon.com or barnesandnoble.com…. I hear she’s pretty good (cheeky grin).

Oh! and always, always remember…..

IT’S A SMALL WORLD AFTER ALL!

The Plot thickens

Shake em, stir em, rattle them babies around. It’s kind of nice seeing the stregnth anf vulnerabilities of your characters start to pop through. I had no idea that the tentatively titled “Garden” would have so much of a romantic subplot.

Yes. Subplot.

Because there’s a lot going on underneath that. A lot of healing that has to be done, by the heroine, before she’s going to be ready to trust someone again. And yes, she must heal herself. No one can drag you through it, but they can definately help you through it.

Yes, this one is going to have some my life in it. A lot of it. The thing is, I really really want to write this the way it deserves to be written. I love Sarah Addison Allen, and I’ve devoured all of her books. I like the magic weaving through “real” life, the characters are slightly off beat…

But they don’t have the asinine humor that I somtime’s deploy.

Yah. I said it.

When my son was a wee little babe I called him, among other things, Melon Head. I even wrote a poem about him at ten months, calling him “Beloved Melon Head”. It’s right there on the top of the page— click on it and take a look. I can wait a moment.

Waiting

Waiting

Yah. See? I can be a bit asanine. But even though there are things in there that aren’t quite right, you can tell through every line of the poem that I adore that baby.

And that’s the kind of book I want to write.

A little bit asanine, but with the beauty of possiblity woven through out.

I’m game. are you?

Note:

If you’re up to it, I’m appearing on the Mocha Memoirs Press Blog for 4/10. Another 10×10, but this time I did top ten movies. Which is harder than it looks, by the way! By the end I had to think really hard about the movies. But they are a great cross section to know the kind of person I’m like 🙂  Go find me at the MMP Blog at http://mochamemoirspress.blogspot.com/ My post should go live at midnight tonight, or you know, tomorrow as that’s the date I’m set for over there (4/10). Even if you don’t see me, poke around— there are several great authors over there blogging on a regular basis.  Oh, and Rie’s blog post back on the fifth has a snippet of ME! yes, me! They Love me! They really do! (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!)

Ta, my lovelies! I’m planning on blogging again tomorrow, as I will be gone all next week starting on Sunday. We’re going to Disney Land!