Renee is Writing

It's a peaceful Saturday afternoon and I am filling myself with writing. Memoir, poems and short stories swirl in my head racing to be the first to be placed on the pristine white pages of a notebook. Just thought I would share this little story with you. It just kind of emerged from the meditative corner of my brain.   From the age of four she dreamed of becoming a ballerina. A pair of pink satin toe shoes lured her, but they were so big she could fit both of her feet into one of them. She went to dance classes and hefted her foot to the barre and stretched her muscles till they cried in agony and cramped in her sleep. At night she sat on her bed and stretched her arms over head in an arc like a rainbow. She bent from side to side in a slow dance, her pale skin lit by the moon. She watched her shadow move gracefully to the music hat played in her head. Then went to sleep trying to remember her multiplication tables and the spelling words she was supposed to study

spring tears soak the dead earth flowers resurrected from winter's sleep birds sing joy I'm enjoying this year's poetry challenge as I love nature and wish I could spend more time outdoors absorbing her gifts. Since I spend most of my days indoors in an office it's fun to spend some morning time crafting poems that sing Mother Nature's praises. I do believe in synchronicity and as it turns out, the other day while clearing out some of my numerous books I came across "The Wise Earth Speaks to Your Spirit: 52 Ways to Find Your Voice through Journal Writing" by Janell Moon. I took this as a sign that I should finally open the book and follow some of the exercises. I chose a blank journal with pictures of flowers and strawberries on it that was just waiting in my writing room for something special to be scribed inside it. Now I have the perfect play area to manipulate words and ideas and write poems for this challenge and to give voice to my soul. I

clouds like a rippled river I am underwater searching the waves for a sign ~~of peace ~~of tranquility the only things I find ~~turmoil ~~indecision as if these clouds rippling over my head could drown me

    blue heron wades in fits and starts probing for lost dreams-- guileless peace glistens in her folded wings 

gentle pond ripples with discarded dreams holds the trees and sky like a million poems that will never be read

      rust spotted maple leaf predicts death like the age spots on the back of my hand   yet the future is lit by a crescent moon dreams swaying on a hammock of hope 

the bare branched maple a monument to death sap begins to run under the sun's embrace bodies, life yours, mine inevitable change

black earth swells with April rain, pale blades pierce the surface. leaves, caressed by the heat of the sun's tongue, cradle crocus buds in their slender arms ice melts hearts thaw peace blooms

I love the month of April. Tiny green sprouts are emerging from dark brown soil. Even on the coldest mornings you can feel the slight shift in the sun's heat rays. And the birds are beginning to chirp matins for early risers like me. Most of all it is National Poetry Month. Each year I set myself a poetry challenge to write a poem a day based on a particular form or topic. This year's poems will be about nature. One of my favorite poets is Mary Oliver who literally finds a world in a grain of sand, or stalk of wheat, or the calm eyes of a deer. The nature pictures she paints with her words are amazing. It is that description of nature, and its metaphor for universal life forces, that I hope to emulate with my poems this month. Since the hawk is one of my favorites of Mother Nature's children this is where I shall begin. The infant hawk lifts her wings for the first time. The sun catches the fragile white down on her chest and it glints like silver against the deep-sea b