Category: poetry

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therapy in words

When I was in my teens, I wrote poetry daily. Granted, most of it sucked. I was a very different person back then and my exposure to the world was limited to small-town upstate New York and my very religious mind-frame. But, that isn’t the point. The point was in the joy of just writing whatever came to mind.

A good chunk of what I wrote was steeped in the far-right, evangelical Christianity that I was saturated with at the time, but one of the things I learned then was that I could spew my darker emotions, my darkest views of the world, into my poetry as a means of processing those things without poisoning who I was.

It is a lesson I have carried on into my adulthood. A lot of folks who read my poetry ask me about it, about how my poetry doesn’t seem to reflect the person they think of me as. Often it is because poetry is my therapy. And it remains so today.

Sure, I can be fun or silly, or sultry in my poetry as well. But, I think it’s in my darker work that I shine the most, if that makes sense. I pour a lot of who I am into my words and I can spend a long time working over the words I choose to express myself…but sometimes a poem simply falls onto a page and there is no work, only emotion.

That’s why I consider it my therapy, and since going back to writing at least one poem everyday, I’m finding myself on better footing mentally. It feels really good.

Anyway, it’s Friday and payday here in my world, so I’m off to pay bills before starting the day job. I hope this weekend treats you well, Readers, with good food, better coffee and a bit of poetry to decorate your world.

Photo by Álvaro Serrano on Unsplash

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life, writing, and muddling through

It feels trivial somehow to talk about the mundane aspects of a mundane life when around the world people are suffering and dying in zones of war, bombs falling from the sky, buildings reduced to rubble and scared populations huddle in the dark or flee desperately to foreign lands.

At the same time, for those of us not in that immediate situation, life continues at its regular, mundane pace and so we go on.

In writing news, The Daughters of Morru is now available over on my Patreon page for all Patrons at the Enablers tier ($3 /month) and up. Chapters are posted every Sunday. So far three chapters are available.

I continue in my quest to write a poem per day, with first access to those available on either my Patreon page (for all Patrons $1 and up) and my Ko-Fi page (for all supporters, even 1 time donors). So far I’ve only missed one day, due to an accident that left me a bit concussed and rendered my muse mute.

I continue to settle into the new place, getting a little more comfortable every day. I now have an actual kitchen table and chairs, which I haven’t had in close to ten years. I’m almost feeling like a proper grown up!

I’m hoping my Death Wish Coffee order shows up soon, or I may have to resort to Starbucks this week! Fortunately, there’s a Starbucks walking distance from my house…I just need to find my make up to cover up my bruised up face (I look like someone punched me right between my eyes).

But, it’s almost time to start the day job and I still have today’s poem to write, so I shall leave you to your Tuesday, Readers. I hope it is filled with kindness and good things!

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I’m a poet and I know it…

My first forays into writing were really bad poetry. I was a pre-teen when I started writing poetry, and it continued into my angst-filled teen years. Somewhere, in some box or bin that is still in the garage, I have a pile of poetry, notebooks filled with bad rhymes, and inane topics. The bad was not helped by a near-fanatical religious belief and the extra-special dirty-bad-wrong that I had been taught regarding the human condition.

Of course, as I got older I learned that poetry doesn’t need to rhyme, that sometimes it’s the rhythm of the words that bring it to life. My skill with words improved, I tried my hand at different kinds of poetry, but found a home in free verse.

As I found my voice and shed a bad religion, I delved into topics unrelated to the angst of a teenager. I grew to love the way I could shape a feeling into a poem, and I started writing from a rather adult place. I explored topics like politics and religion and sex. I painted the page with allegory and melancholy.

Through all of that, I was working on taking my love of words further and dove into writing fiction. Sometimes, it seems like I abandoned poetry for prose, but I always come back to poetry.

For the last several days, I’ve been starting my day with writing poetry. It feels amazing to be crafting words again. I hope to continue doing so for the near future. I will be posting new poems to my Ko-Fi page first for members, then to my poetry blog a few days later.

Head on over to Ko-fi if you would like to support a poet / author, Readers! I can’t wait to share with you.

Or, if you’re a Patreon kind of person, you can find me there too!

Photo by Trust “Tru” Katsande on Unsplash

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nesting

I have arrived at my favorite part of moving: the nesting phase. There is something satisfying about finding new homes for your things and settling into the new routine.

This house has more storage space than the old one, and an extra bedroom that will likely become the craft room. There is also an extra bathroom and an actual place for a kitchen table. There are also stairs, which one of the kitties thinks is the best thing ever.

The downstairs bedroom is now my office and it has a sizeable closet which, when combined with an actual craft room, means my office will stay cleaner because I don’t have to empty the closet every time I’m looking for something!

There is still so much unpacking to do, but I have today and tomorrow to devote to it, and that should get me to a good place.

The cats are getting used to the place, and getting used to being indoor kitties again. The old house was on a quiet street where I didn’t have to worry about them being outside. The new house is in a much busier neighborhood with cars going by at all hours and kids walking to and from school and the small shopping center around the corner. The doorbell camera is getting a good workout.

I should have my tax refund this week, so I’ll be able to go get myself a washer and dryer for further settling in (and not having to schlep laundry around).

In writing news, I slapped together some poetry this morning. If you’re interested, have a gander: morning-news.

The coffee cup is empty, so I guess that means it’s time to get to work. Have a wonderful Saturday, Readers!

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sunshine and kindness

August is something of a transition month for me. When I lived in Upstate New York as a kid, it had this impending feeling of autumn, but with the heat and free spirit of summer. Corn of the cob and macaroni salads filled picnic tables, kids splashed about in Lake Ontario, and trees were just starting to show the kiss of color that autumn would bring.

Thoughts would turn to shopping for school clothes, the smell of leaves and fires, the anticipation for hay rides and haunted houses.

Of course, now that my life no longer rotates around the school calendar, August is the start of a string of birthdays/holidays that begins with my brother’s oldest child’s (who is no longer a child) birthday, mine, my mother’s, Halloween, Thanksgiving, my brother’s birthday, Christmas, New Year’s and then my brother’s youngest child’s birthday (she is no longer a child either).

Add in there a trip to Austin early in August most years for a birthday celebration of another kind, plus various conferences and vacations, and most years August is the start of time accelerating to race through it all.

I leave for Austin on Thursday (vaccinated and masked), but until then, I’m trying to hold back on the gallop and keep this thing slowed down a bit while I can. I’m writing a lot, and editing the Sirens Benefit Anthology, and even working at designing a cover for it.

Right now, I’m savoring my Death Wish Coffee and contemplating thinky things. I plan on filming some poetry videos while I’m in Austin, so stay tuned for that to happen.

And now, Readers, I’m off into my Sunday. May yours be filled with sunshine and kindness.

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autumn dreams and poetry

Is it just me, or is this year just flying by? Somehow, we’re almost at the end of July. Before you know it, we’ll start the birthday/holiday run that starts in late August and ends around April.

At least I’m ready for the autumn temperatures, not that this has been a super hot summer, not compared to some I’ve spent here in California.

I’ve always been partial to the autumn. I love the colors, the smells, the memories of apple orchards and pumpkin farms, back-to-school clothes and hayrides.

My creative side craves it. I write more poetry in the months of September, October and November than the rest of the year combined.

I’ve just launched a Ko-Fi page! What is Ko-Fi? Well, it’s a place for creators to create and share. My commissions are open for Social Media bios, poetry and short stories. Stop by and buy me a cup of coffee.

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…for the love of words…

I love words.

I love long words, short words, weird words. I love unusual words and common words. I love combinations of words that absolutely, perfectly describe something or someone.

I love twisting words around until they come out just right.

I’ve been drawn to words and how we use them to communicate since I was a child. I learned to read rather young and I loved to immerse myself into the worlds of the books I read. Then I learned that I could write my own worlds, create my own stories with the words that I loved.

As is true of anyone, my first attempts at that were…shall we say, not good. From my juvenile poetry to my first attempts at short stories and even novels, my love of words only grew, and fortunately, my use of them improved over time.

Today, I hold in my hands a book of poetry…my poetry. Words that I wrestled with, slept with, scribbled out onto loose leaf paper or the back of receipts, words that I typed out in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep until I got them down.

There is a satisfaction in this project that is a little different to any of the novels I have published. It is more intimate, because these words often come from deep within my understanding of who I am.

And, I love who I am. I hope you will join me on this journey. Find your copy at Amazon or other online retailers. May this Tuesday serve you well and bestow kindness upon you, Readers.

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…tonight…

You may recall me talking about a collection of poetry recently. This morning, I woke to the news that my publisher, Next Chapter publications, already has it available to purchase! How awesome is that?

This collection of poems comes from across more than 30 years of writing poetry and covers the gambit from sweet, rhyming poems to sultry (and very adult) poems, with stops all over the spectrum.

To me, poetry has always been about capturing emotion in such a way that the Reader can feel what I was feeling when I wrote it. There are times I have agonized for hours over a single line in my attempt to do that. Sometimes over a single word.

My love of words began with poetry and grew from there. My heart lives here, and I invite you in to sit a spell and let my heart touch yours.

Get your copy now!

Happy Monday, Readers!

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tear stained alleys and sun drenched fields

Sometimes, when I feel stuck working on a book, I’ll sidestep to a short story or some poetry. Sometimes into one of the other books in some state of written languishing on my hard drive. This last week, I’ve been wading into the poetry waters again.

I have a deep and abiding love for poetry. I can spend hours on a single line some times, working and reworking it until it’s perfect. Other times the words just drip straight out of my soul and stain the page permanently.

I have an entire bin full of pages of poetry, some dating all the way back to the 1980s. And sure, some of it is truly suctackular, but I never do seem to be capable of throwing it out. Each piece is a part of who I am, or who I used to be.

If you were to lay it all out in chronological order, you’d be able to watch me grow up, follow me from the angsty teen years to the angsty adult years, hear the changes in my voice as I got to really know myself. It’s almost a biography in poetry, if you will. My life story told in emotions and ideas, images painted with words.

This past weekend I spent some time immersed in those paintings, wandering down tear stained alleys and into sun drenched fields, gathering wildflowers before carefully putting the past back to bed.

Soon, I hope to be able to share with you what I found.

Until then, Readers, it is time for more coffee and the day job.

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poetic license

Because I’m not already in the middle of writing a trilogy, editing an anthology, working a day job and attempting to keep my head above water, I seem to have decided to work on a poetry collection.

I’ve always loved poetry, and though I know that poetry doesn’t really sell. Selling isn’t the point, I think, when it comes to poetry.

Poetry is expression. It is capturing a moment in time. It is reaching into the air and grasping words to pull back and put on paper.

The best poetry pulls the reader into it, fills them with the emotion, touches them.

You can find some of my poetry on my poetry blog.

I hope you are all well, Readers, and that they day gifts you kindness.

Photo by Trust “Tru” Katsande on Unsplash