I was dreaming a poem,
consigning rhymes and arguing assonance.
This is the metaphor:
even my subconscious searches
for the words.
Advertisements
poem-circles October 24, 2016
I’m
circling
I’m
adding,
growing, and
learning.
I’m
becoming
the dream me
I see her
in
laughter
applause
award
I’m
circling
up to the prize
it’s closer
and
closer
with every
word.
.
.
I just came back from the annual Surrey International Writers’ Conference. My first year there, I successfully pitched to a publisher. My third time I successfully pitched to an agent. When I first started attending, I admired the amazing writing of the winners of the $1000 Storyteller Award and the humorous writing by the winners of the 75 word Silly Write contest. I dreamed of winning those contests. I’ve entered a couple of pieces 5 or 6 times over the years. This year I didn’t have a project to pitch, but I submitted to both contests. I was short listed for the Storyteller (3rd year in a row short listed for a writing contest at SIWC!) and my entry came second in the Silly Write. I was thinking “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” 🙂 On the other hand, I feel the precipice I’m standing on- I am appreciating the fine line of difference between good and great.
When several hundred people are laughing at your jokes and cheering when your name is called, you can’t help but feel inspired.
You know how there comes a time when the craftsman requires particular tools to create true art? Because of the amazing craft workshops I attended (Donald Maass, Diana Gabaldon, Susanna Kearsley, Shari Green) and meal conversations (Larry Brooks, Nephele Tempest, Jack Whyte) I feel like I’ve been given the master tools that will make the difference to leap off the precipice and FLY. I feel that intangible sense that things are about to change, and I’m excited!
poem- phantom cookies August 31, 2016
In my dreams
two cookies appear on my plate
when I glance down
I have eaten one.
In dismay I think
I just won’t eat the other,
but next glance,
it is gone, too.
I think, how strange, I eat
without even noticing.
That’s a bad habit.
.
.
(39 days on the diet–twenty pounds down–apparently my subconscience craves cookies?)
haiku-dream March 26, 2016
Down the hall, I hear
the soft woofing of a dreaming dog,
but no dogs are here.
.
Is someone gleefully
chasing dream rabbits
at our B and B?
.
True story. (Thin walls).
poem-tortoise March 13, 2016
In dreams
I have been gifted with a tortoise.
A slow moving friend who will live long.
When I wake, I google
whether tortoises can lived in a backyard
through Canadian winter.
before I realize it was only
a dream.
poem-ashes to ashes February 21, 2016
I feel you curled against my back.
I stroke your warm body.
I gaze into your soft brown eyes,
that gaze lovingly back to me.
I wonder whose ashes are in the box:
Conspiracy theories.
Painful realities ring with the alarm clock,
and my contentment turns to ashes.
poem-dream warrior February 10, 2016
You were fighting
a wooly mammoth
with a light saber.
plainly losing the battle.
Your cries drew me to consciousness,
so I saved you
with a waking shake.
Never let it be said,
I haven’t got your back.
