Magnetic Poetry: “Innocence”

Sometimes I worry too much about what other people think, especially, it seems, when it comes to my writing. I should have the freedom to write what I want, and to relish in and enjoy that freedom.

I need to remember I don’t always have to write young adult stuff, I can write adult stuff, too. I am an observer of all things, a speaker of truth, an eavesdropper on conversations, a person who writes poetry about the uncomfortable moments of life and the emotions behind them. I am writer. I can write all things. Anywho, on a kind of unrelated note, a new poem:



Women do magic
    young men blush
breathe sad, broken smiles
and listen        their liquid eyes naked
with longing

St Patty’s Day Poem: “The Clover”

I wrote this poem back in the days (several years ago) when I was in a rhyming phase. I was trying to think of something to share for St. Patty’s day, and I didn’t have time to type up a quick story, and I thought this would be perfect. Clovers, green things…it works.

Happy-St-Patricks-Day-Free-Hi-Res-Wallpaper-1024x640The Clover

On his way back from a stroll one day, Charlie found the time,

To reach down and pick a clover, a clover intended to be mine.


This clover, it was four leafed, it was dark green and true.

Then he held it out before him and said, “I picked this here for you.


May this clover bring you more luck, than it has given me.

May it take you places higher, higher than the tallest tree.


May it give you luck and happiness, where ever you choose to go.

May it give you the courage and confidence, to let your true self show.


May it keep you away from harm, and protect you in the cold,

And let it represent my love for you, if I may be so bold.”


I stared at the leafed plant in my hands, hands that began to shake,

And the clover fluttered to the ground, to be lost in a deep green lake.


I cried, “I dropped it, dear, I lost it. I’ll find another for you.”

Then he said something that touched my heart, “Only love rings true.”


Ah, I suppose it does have a ring of corniness to it, lol. But hey, I was young. And I’m still a dreamer. And I still believe in fairy tales, and luck and love and all that good stuff. :)

Best of luck to us all as we go about our day!



Girl time, Cupcakes and a Poem by my niece, Madilyn

Two peas in a pod!

Two peas in a pod!

I had a great weekend this time around. I watched my niece, Madilyn, who is eight, and (like myself) is growing into a book lover and writer.

It’s great for me to watch her creativity grow, to hear the books that she likes to read, to listen to her ideas; to watch (somewhat enviously) her imagination come alive. She told me after inhaling one of her new but used books: “I love how books smell.” And I think I fell in love with her just a little bit more.

We had a grand ol’ time. She showed me some of her video games: Zoo Tycoon and got me hooked on Lego Lord of the Rings. We had a pizza party, ate chips, made cup cakes and put streaks of pink in each others hair.

Now, mind you, I am 26, but I had the best time that I have had in a while. Maybe it’s because my niece and I are so much alike; we are both sensitive, both dramatic and creative. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had a girl’s day in a while…maybe I’ll always be a child at heart, but it’s amazing how the simplest things sometimes end up being the memories that last a lifetime.

Our funfetti cupcakes. Maddie did most of the decorating.

Our funfetti cupcakes. Maddie did most of the decorating.

Anyway, after the dying of hair, we also managed to watch The Book of Life, and How to Train your Dragon 2. Suffice to say, we had a busy time of it, and were ready for bed around 11pm.

My heart is still all warm and fuzzy recalling the great weekend I had, and it is amazing how much she inspires me. She asked me what I had my office for, (where she slept Saturday night on my futon). I told her it was because I write. And she asked me where my books were. Have you printed them out? What stories do you write?

I had to think a bit, as I mumbled: No, they’re not done. They are on my computer. They aren’t printed…aren’t published yet…

I guess this means I better get crackin’! What have I been doing all my life? Not writing, that’s what! I also thinks this means I should focus on writing more children’s stories. So I can have something more to share.

Anyway, I also wanted to share the poem that she managed to create on my fridge with the magnetic poetry I have. I thought it was cute. Here goes:

wpid-img_20150316_192629108.jpgI’ll call it: “Imagination”

ice and air            men    women   sacred [scared]

to blush                we like blue magic

not sad               boys               cat must

breath [breathe]  perfume     and in our

young green eyes      brilliant



I love that last part: Young, green, eyes and brilliant joy. Yes, that pretty much describes my weekend. I got back just a little bit of my childhood on Saturday; that free, unaltered joy, which consists of pure happiness and utter bliss. There’s really no other feeling in the world. I loved it.

I hope everyone had a somewhat decent Monday; Happy Writing everyone!

Magnetic Poetry: “The Next Morning”

This one is for all you guys (and gals!) going out this Friday night, gonna have fun, just hoping to get lucky…or those that used to go out, and would rather stay at home and sleep, (like me!)

Sometimes, though, the morning after isn’t so much fun when you realize who or what you woke up with. Eee!

It reads:

I remember concrete and salt
Less broken than you
The morning after sex
I desire joy and magic
Not your sad, boy breath
Not you

Ouch! Lol…Hope everyone has a great weekend! :)


Throwback Thursday Inspired Poem: “Best Friends”

I wish I was better at juggling a full-time job, a part-time job, my own writing projects, and posts for this blog, but alas, it is a work in progress!

I don’t know how some people do it! But I’d rather have fewer posts, than many posts that are lower quality. It’s something that I’m definitely working on, though. :)

Anywho, I watched Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood on Netflix last night, and was inspired to write this poem. Maybe I’m just overly emotional right now, but for some reason I was feeling all reflective, and melancholy at the same time and this is what I came up with:

My friends Christina, Jackie, and Me (in the middle) at age 11, or 12.

My friends Christina, Jackie, and Me (in the middle) at age 11, or 12. Taken before I had a digital camera, of course!

Best Friends

We lay there in a tent made of fake canvas; it smelled like dirt and plastic and camping

and somehow I knew this would be one of the last times we would really spend together,

the three of us bunched up together on that old blow up mattress

But it wasn’t evident from the stars that twinkled down on our faces,

Or the crickets that chirped and sang…

We were alive and we were beautiful and young,

and nothing ever got its way in our paths.

I remember asking, when did you think we would die?

How someone went silent and then, “I never really thought about it much.”

How I replied: “I think I’ll go young. It’s not like I want to, but I never really saw myself doing much. I can’t picture my future.”

I remember silence and the crickets were humming and I’m sure there were lightning bugs, too, (there’s always lightning bugs).

Then someone takes a breath and we’re talking about Twilight, and school and boys and how remember that time you fell in the creek, and someone was clever enough to snap a picture?

Now I look back and wonder if anyone ever knows the future? And if they do, don’t they know it is more like a journey, best imagined sometimes an adventure, but always survived.

One minute it’s there, and the next minute gone. A feeling like a breath, an instant, a tear drop, a thought.

Gone with last night’s breeze and this morning’s rough chill.

Sometimes it takes a whole minute to hold onto something, but it takes only a second to realize what it is, and then it’s gone.

Magnetic Poetry: “Survival”

Nothing gets me down more than sickness, and I’ve had my fair share of it this past month. :/ Perhaps I was inspired by that…who knows.

wpid-img_20150205_110837576.jpgIt reads:


Smile and

eat life

and never wake


I hope everyone is staying warm and safe these winter months! We’ve certainly had our fair share of snow these past few weeks! And for those of you in warm weather: send it this way please!

Happy Writing!


Poem: Hair Salon

What’s better than hanging out
At the hair salon with a girlfriend
On a Saturday night
Dreaming about summer
Wishing our hair was long
And as yellow as the sunshine
On our faces

It makes me think of
Long drives up the hill
On a warm summer night
When the world is full of lightning bugs
And crickets hum outside the car window

When he put his arm around me
And whispered against my neck
“There’s only you, and no one else”
And my heart pounded
And my breath caught

And I felt young, and so alive.

So alive, so alive.

An English Major’s Struggle To Find a Job

I recently took a new job here, (go figure, right?)…something that has me typing information at a desk, not customer service, not worrying about sales pitch – did I get it right? Just plain old monotonous information, and type-type typing away.typing-clipart-16-COLOR

And while this job was described to me as incredibly boring, I can’t but help be somewhat relieved. Left to my own thoughts, my own devices, I am more productive, less stressed and overall satisfied. Plus, I don’t have to talk to anyone if I don’t want to. Is it sad how much this is a relief to me?

Ever since college I have been struggling finding my way or niche in this world…I watch friends of mine, graduates from the same college get jobs at corporations, in the classroom, or go on to pursue higher education at graduate school.

I am proud of them and their accomplishments, but where does that leave me? Taking a job in retail, in customer service, in collections…finding places that pay the big bucks with little need to think or grow? I don’t live in an area that offers an overwhelming amount of options, either. I feel like I have ruined my job experience…even the manager that recently interviewed me said he was worried about hiring me…”Your job history seems a little…scattered,” he said.

“Oh, I know,” I said, and then shrugged. What could I say?

“I missed the boat when it came to moving to Florida?”

“I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up?”

Life is difficult and not always forgiving when it comes to pursuing your dreams and passions. I got an English degree, so everyone assumed that I wanted to be a teacher. I worked in customer service, so everyone assumed that I’m great on the phone, and love to help others. (I am great on the phone by the way. Former debt collector here, watch out!)

But what to do…what to do, when all of the world seems to be telling me that I am a failure? I took the jobs…because I needed the money. Not everyone has a savings or rich relatives. (Oh, but wouldn’t that be nice!)notebook in candlelightSince I was a young teen, the one thing that I consider myself great at is writing. This led to the thought: “I’ll be a writer.” Yet, with the pressure on to pay the bills…is such a desire a pipe dream? Or should I really just bite the bullet and go back to college…even though I don’t know what I want to study?

The questions are endless and the emotions boarding on that feeling of overwhelming sadness. I think the real answer to these questions are:

Do what makes you happy and don’t worry what everyone else thinks.

My head is grasping for the words of advice I’ve heard many times: “Don’t give up, you’ll get there.”

“Believe in yourself.”

“Never stop writing.”

“Don’t lose faith in yourself.”

Yet, they seem to be falling on deaf ears this afternoon, or falling in the cracks of heater and getting lodged there, (God knows little heat is getting out!).

doryThe sun is peaking out of the clouds now, and the snow has finally stopped. For some reason Dory’s voice from Finding Nemo has snuck its way into my head:

“Just keep swimming…just keep swimming…What do we do? We swim!”

Hmm…I am a terrible swimmer, but I can keep going, no matter how difficult it is…

The truth of the matter is, I am not unhappy here, sitting at my desk in the sunshine, which is creeping through to land on the floor and the cheery, yellow walls of my office.

I can keep on swimming, and I can begin to stop listening to what others think…because only my opinion matters in this instance. Being a writer is my pipe dream, and that’s all that matters.

I can keep on swimming no matter the cost.

Poetry: I can write haiku, can you?

It’s snowing outside, tiny flakes coming down from the sky in all directions, swirling chaotically around cars and the pavement outside my window.

View from my office window.

View from my office window.

Naturally this makes me want to write, of course. I don’t know what it is…maybe because it’s warm in our apartment, I woke up refreshed (finally) after a good nights sleep and I have the day off from work.

Maybe there’s something in the way that snowy sleepy days naturally put me in a thoughtful mood, and thoughtful moods generally lead to writing…if I were a painter, I’d paint the heck out of a glorious snowy day, but alas, the best brush I have, is the brush of words on blank, blank paper.

And of course, the last sentence I just wrote had me thinking about haiku poems. It’s been ages since I’ve written one…not since college three years ago. I found a refresher at this website, here.

(From the website:) The haiku is a Japanese verse in three lines.  Line one has 5 syllables, line 2 has 7 syllables and line three has 5 syllables. Haiku is a mood poem and it doesn’t use any metaphors or similes.


View of the moon and snowy trees at my Grandma’s house, the evening of Thanksgiving.

I don’t usually think of myself as a poet. My advance poetry teacher in college said to me once, “You are definitely a fiction writer.” And that seemed to cement the idea in my brain. He didn’t mean to say that I was inept at poetry, just that eventually all writers make a choice, and I am a lover of stories and so naturally fiction was my style of choice.

But lately, I am constantly reminded by poetry why writing descriptive, lyrical words are so important. Why some fiction is just poetry in an extended form. In a single poem, an image is created in just a few words. I think poetry is a great way to remind fiction writers how important it is to show, not tell what is happening in the story, but to focus on the concise, and descriptive words.

Here’s some haiku of my own. Some silly, some serious, some not really haiku poems at all, but all poetry:

The bright yellow sun shines

through icicles hanging

on the windowsill



icicles remind

us to mind the cold weather

bundle up you beasts



dogs don’t like the snow

wagging their tails between gusts

shivering snow and wind



the snow swirls around the pavement

children walk by with parents

hands howling in their gloves



So much depends upon a red wheelbarrow…

(Just kidding! haha…can’t get this poem out of my head for some reason! For those that don’t know this is the start of a poem, “The Red Wheelbarrow,” by William Carlos Williams. I remember there were those that either loved it or hated it in my poetry class. There was a great debate that followed about it.)

And lastly, another haiku of my own:


The dead of winter

snow falls down on black pavement

eat lunch, eat sunlight

This has been a lot of fun for me this afternoon. Feel free to comment with your own, if you like!

Happy Writing!