Renee is Writing

word group: voices--ancestors--wind chimes--stone ancestors voices-- wind chimes in the stones

word group: THE STRANGER A stranger in this world the child does not understand love is a gift. He believes it is a birthright all children possess. So, in the only language he knows, he sends out a cry that beckons warmth and sustenance. All of us must answer the calls of all children so the light of nurture can lead us through these black tunnels of violence.

A writing workshop leader once told me that in order to succeed as a writer you had to have "singleness of purpose." Over the 30 plus years since then I have come to see how true that is. I learned the hard way because I had no focus, but things are becoming less blurry lately. Yesterday I heard that my short story "Rose" has been accepted for publication this year by persimmontree. I am proud of this accomplishment and happy to say this makes my fifth short story to get published. I know I've written here about my genre jumping but yesterday's good news helps me see where I need to concentrate my writing. It's a sign! It shows that through my concentration in the past when I took online flash fiction classes I was able to produce a number of solid stories over the weeks of those classes. And now the payoff is coming in more publications. I also received a "not quite for us" rejection this week but with a request to send more work in the futu...

word group: wings--rustle--echo--sky Echoes across thousands     of countries the rustle of  bird wings    sing secrets we must comprehend. A pewter sky    cries polluted tears filling the oceans    with unwritten questions. The silence    echoes the barrenness       of answers.

word group: insomnia--cargo--struggle--sleep I need sleep the elixir for tired bones a weary heart the burdened cargo of too many ideas I struggle to find that peace that eludes me it's like trying to catch fireflies. Yet other days I pray for insomnia so I'll have more hours      to write          to read              to just be.

word group: relentless--questions--imminent--brave On this partly cloudy day when everything is washed in gray shadows the destruction of our world is imminent. The proof lies      in detonated bombs      gun slinging teens      babies shaken      not stirred with love. Relentless to find solutions I ask brave questions but the scarcity of answers is a deafening silence and the afternoon shadows cloud my brain.

word group: past--magnolia--marble--wind WRITING MEMOIR late afternoon sky is mauve and blue marble as I stroll the forest wind is a mourning song magnolia petals coat the path soft slippery with each step I come closer to the past till I'm buried in its ghosts and demons so deep into the forest I believe I can never come out.

word group: garden--voices--silver--leaves The midnight garden drenched in silver light is home to ghosts thin as tissue paper but their voices bold brash bounce off the leaves echo against tree trunks upright or stretched across the path barricading the way. You climb over the cylinders of rough bark trying to grasp the ghosts- like old love they slip away quicksilver and without substance.

word group: divorce--dormant--weed--blooms She strokes the white pages of the divorce decree as if touching the words can make her understand. Denial is not a dormant creature-- it lives powerful in the heart. The weed-like character of lies, deceit, absence take hold in muscles, veins, bones and don't let go. Until she releases them of her own will and hope blooms like April daffodils.

word group: cat--purr--winter--lap Winter ice sheets the windows blocking light and memory. on her lap a black and white cat purrs so loud white lace curtains shift and her whole body vibrates like a harp. She strokes the thick fur and gazes into almond shaped green eyes. But there's no entrance to memories she seeks. Only her own reflection expressionless unknowing.

word group: chaos--senses--dissolve--change The 6 Senses She had a vision      of chaos that raged         inside her heart. She heard the throaty      songs of nightingales         as they vanished from her garden. She tasted the salt      of desire on her tongue         as it dissolved in time. She smelled the scent      of lavender         and nights of lucid dreams. She felt the kiss      of midnight dew         on her naked skin. And sensed the winds      of change         just before they blew the world away.

word group: red--sky--ember--ash Beneath the umbrella of a red sky and the full yellow ball of the sun the Indian woman danced around the fire her arms arced toward heaven her bare feet thumping on dry earth. She danced in circles as embers burned to cold ash and her cries lifted like a prayer in curlicues of silver smoke.

word group: attend--nurture--bowl--cup AVEDON The Queen of Avedon attended the birth and was surprised to see a faerie emerge-- tiny, delicate with wings like lace. As the mother slept the Queen took the fairy child, suckled and nurtured her and kept her in a cave in the dark woods to raise as her own. At the age of one the faerie child fit in a teacup. At five in a wooden bowl carved of beech wood and used for collecting exotic herbs. When the faerie child was sixteen her true mother came upon her in the woods and recognized the faerie as the baby that disappeared from the palace-- the baby whose mother had searched for her for sixteen years. She picked her up no bigger than a chipmunk and carried her home in the perfect bowl of her trembling hands.

word group: chalk--rainbow--sidewalk--fade The girl with blonde pigtails greets early summer morning in sneakered feet shorts and sun blouse. She hauls a bucket of sidewalk chalk to the corner beneath the dappled shade of a maple tree. Amid the caws of crows and sweet songs of sparrows she draws a giant rainbow on the concrete squares. She stands back hands braced on slender hips and admires the bold colors of her masterpiece. The next day a hundred footprints and midnight rain have faded her rainbow even before she finds her pot of gold.

word group: humbled--face--cry--laugh the string of lies humbled her sunlight touched her face but she didn't feel the heat she heard it laugh at her that yellow globe in the crystal sky she walked inside closed the door and pretended it was midnight

word group: wall--ancient--dawn--dusk In ancient days from dawn to dusk she walked tracing the stones of the high wall with a trembling finger. She dreamed of what was behind those walls that trapped her like secret sins. One morning beneath a mauve streaked winter sky she found a fingerhold and ascended. She smiled like the old moon and escaped into the delirium of the unknown.

word group: archway--silence--pause--return/go Through the stone archway      pocked with age She wanders silently      beneath the gaze of a full moon. She enters a courtyard      paved with ancient rocks between them grow rigid grass      and a history of stories. Each footfall in the silence      echoes against the stories as if those long gone      sing into the night. In the center she stills      listens and feels sweet air as the cries of those long gone      have returned home. She waits till silence settles      and the secrets return to the cracks in the stone walls      where no one ventures.     

word group: children--beach--moonlight--whale heels press into damp sand breakers grasp my ankles with frozen brine moonlight sashays on the waves I squint at the horizon and pull into focus a blue whale its blowhole spouts a shower of hope spraying life into the ocean I pray this life will go on

word group: land--heartland--music--heart In the heartland      wind plays music           through wheat fields. Crows explode      into summer sky           too blue to look at           with bare eyes. But if I close my eyes      and let the music fill me           allow the wind to kiss my skin like fingers on a harp strings. This land beneath my feet      becomes my soul           and my heart is free.

word group: loon-silhouette-guest-lake Against the tissue paper moon the loon's silhouette floats on the lake. Her cry is solemn, haunting. She's an unhappy guest on this winter night-- her babies have moved on.

word group:  barefoot--evening--shadows--king evening shadows blend with barefoot prints hiding them from the stalker who seeks to cut out her cold heart with sinful words sharper than the knife she holds in both hands slipping into the shadows of her shame

word group: snow--mountains--trails--tears SPRING TEARS along mountain trails she walks alone hunched into the raw wind arms braced at her chest bare feet leave love notes in new fallen snow her tears freeze on ivory cheeks so she never forgets what happened last summer when this mountain wore a lush blanket of green and the sky shouted happiness like the lone wolf who watches her cry-- his teeth bared

word group: autumn--skeletal--ballroom--frost Late autumn skeletal trees dance toward winter. The ballroom floor is strewn with pine needles and leaves that crunch like old paper-- the words of lovers faded, erased. Morning frost dresses the limbs of the dancers in bridal lace their innocent arms hold up gray cloud curtains. I hunker under white fleece not wanting to face the crisp messages of death in this dawn air.

word group: women--market--sky--spring AT MARKET The woman with corn silk hair strolls the aisles choosing tulips, carnations and lilies. She plucks exquisite sapphire blueberries and palms ruby apples like a lover's cheek. Sniffs melons inhaling love. She wanders the market beneath a steely winter sky buying spring.

Okay-internet down so I've lost 4 days of posting poems. But I have been writing them in my purple covered journal and will now share them with you. Here's hoping the internet stays steady and I can keep up. Technology is a wonderful thing, until it's not, like this weekend. It's why I love my spiral notebooks and purple pens so much. DAY FOUR word group: father--distant--noble--heart MY FATHER The hayseed farmer       with noble heart who kissed my cheek       rubbed my feet-- is gone       into the distant Netherlands that house       dead souls. I cannot touch him       but across the distant breach       I feel his heart beat inside of mine       and he is still here. DAY FIVE word group: rough--sanded--amazement--years AMAZED Along the craggy shoreline       ...

word group: gulps--thirst--permissions--streams I first read the word "permissions" as "persimmons" so I ran with that. Such is the link between eyes and mind at 5:00am PLUCKING PERSIMMONS In the desert of her soul      she feels a painful thirst every tissue in her body      shrivels from want though life streams around her      an unending river           dreams           desires. She cannot stretch long      to gulp its energy. Plucking persimmons      from lush trees the red flesh disintegrates      on her palm She has committed a sin      and has no permission      to quench her thirst           in this life.

word group-- public--private--hidden--shared THE MASK She wears a public mask      of shared smiles      eyes like towering beacons           a heart open like a palm                giving                     always giving Inside are private thoughts      heart closed like a fist      bruised secrets                tears of burnt offerings                         hidden                      ...

April is National Poetry Month. I have their 2013 poster in my office at work. I have a purple covered journal waiting to accept my morning musings that will spiral into poems as the smoke rises from my creative fires. At the moment I have two serious, long term writing projects moving along like bullet trains. The first is the novel I've been working on for two years. It is still very much in draft form with new story lines and character changes emerging from various writing exercises and lots of brainstorming. The second is a memoir that I am writing in the form of a poetry collection. These are big projects and I plan and commit to completing them both this year. I have come to the conclusion that if I focus on these two projects, make time to write every day, and keep the goals in mind I can do this. I accept that I have to have a variety of writing to do and that I can alternate between these two projects as long as I don't let anything else get in the way. So for Nati...