Archive for life

Old Favorites Revisited: Episode One: Mowing After Dark

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 25, 2010 by 1writegirl

I wear a silver chain around my neck bearing a Chinese character; the year of my birth. I don’t take it off to shower, or sleep, or jog or even when I mow the grass, which is after dark. Long after everyone else has put their lawn care products away and retired to the sanctuary of porches, living rooms, and television screens.

I mow quietly, my push reel mower making only a low, humming sound, and as I mow, I talk out loud to someone who isn’t here. I ask him questions and tell him just exactly what I’m thinking as I feel my way across the yard, around the edges and trees. “Love is a tightrope,” I tell him. I can see him in my mind balanced precariously, and I know if I love him too much, he will fall off, just like he will if I don’t love him enough. This is a test, and I wonder if there is a way to cram for it. I wonder, too, if it’s the kind of test you can re-take if you fail, and who decides these things.

By the time the moon is high in the sky I am finished, sweating in spite of the cool night air, sitting on the front step with my fingers wrapped around the necklace: caress, release, caress, release, like a dance or part of a rosary bead benediction. It strikes me that life is like mowing after dark, feeling your way as you go, with the likelihood you’ll run over something sharp increasing the longer you’re out there.

It represents something, this necklace, which is why I never take it off. Not a promise, or a dream, not even a wish for what might have been. Some might call it a memory. Others folly. Patience is a virtue, while stubbornness a sin. Is there a difference? I call it hope and it lives in a place between two hearts, where the grass only grows after dark.

Will Wonders Never Cease….

Posted in Fiction, Novel, Publications with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 17, 2010 by 1writegirl

Amazingly enough, a small press by the name of Gypsy Shadow Publishing has opted to publish my novel, Fortunes Told. It is now available for purchase as an ebook on their website for the incredibly low price of $4.99. Hopefully it will become available in print before too long.

This book took me about three months to write (minus re-writes and editing) and three years to find someone willing to put it out there, a story I’m sure many of you are familiar with. For that matter, it is not my first novel, but my third (hmmm….what’s up with the number three?) Falling into the genre of Chick-Lit, Fortunes Told is a story about love, best friends, relatives, luck, humor, and choices. Mostly, though, it’s about second chances, something I’m happy to say I personally know a good deal about.

Click here for details if you’re looking for a fun and sexy read. For those of you who purchase a copy, my many and sincere thanks in advance.

Happy reading!

The Seven Deadly Sins

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 6, 2010 by 1writegirl

I am guilty
I confess

Of occasional
Gluttony

And frequent
Lust

Now and then
Envy colors my view

And Pride shows its face
From time to time

Rarely do I experience
Wrath

And Greed
For the most part
Feels like too much work

But Sloth is right up there
On my daily to-do list

And I can’t help but wonder
With all this sinning
I’m doing

How I manage to
Stay alive

At all

She Digs Him

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 22, 2010 by 1writegirl

He’s undeniably, eye-catchingly
Handsome

But that’s not why
She digs him

He has a tattoo
Speaks several languages
And was educated
(Among other places)

At the prestigious
School of Hard Knocks

He writes plays, poetry and
Uncategorizable prose

But that’s not why
She digs him

He has traveled the world
Cooks like a gourmet chef
Excels at saving money
And the art of bodyspeak

But even that’s not why
She digs him

She digs him
Because he
Thinks about things others dare not
Talks about things they won’t
He reads Nietzsche
Tolstoy and
Kerouac

He reads her

He
Refuses to conform
Kowtow or
Acquiesce

To dictates
Dogma and
Convention

He cares not for
Status symbols
Nor the
Material world

He drives the divine
Mamita

He understands her inner battles
Between chutzpah
Patience and passion

He tells important stories
He shares without
Imposition

He respects her independence
And keeps her secrets

And when he holds her
She feels more at peace
In this world
Than she ever has

He’s the gift
She wasn’t expecting
What she sees when
She closes her eyes

The face without the mask

That’s why she digs him

Dogs with Mohawks

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 20, 2010 by 1writegirl

My love and I
With nothing better to do
One rainy winter day
Took a look at my shaggy canine
And decided he needed a trim

We started slow
With a pair of shears
Behind the ears
Under the chin

And as we trimmed
We talked as always
About whatever came to mind

And the conversation turned
To the subject of what we’d imagined,
In the glory of dewy youth,
Our lives would look like today

I thought I’d be married, I said
As I swiped at Mugsy’s tail
Be grateful you didn’t go there
He grimaced
Believe me, it’s misery ad infinitum
Compounded by devastation

I should be teaching poetry,
He mused
At some prestigious, west coast college
Off came the left side of Mugsy’s beard

With co-eds hanging on my every word
Gone was his moustache too

I expected to be a famous writer
I exclaimed with an air of whimsy
As the clippers zoomed over Mugsy’s back
And flew up under his stomach
With at least one bestseller, I added
He nodded, I know, huh? he said
Then shaking his head in a daze of wonder
Started in with the scissors in earnest

I’d have a mansion by the sea
He explained with a faraway look
With servants to do my bidding
And an agent, an editor,
Stupendous advances

Fur was flying in all directions
Frenetic buzzing filled the air

And so it went for quite some time
With every word, another cut
For every lost dream
Another lock shorn
Until at last we were out of shouldve’s
And before us quaking in forlorn regret
Stood the product of our mutual despair

There was nothing left of him to speak of
He was half the size he’d started
And the only hair remaining
Was a strip from head to toe
A Mohawk of black and white
From his forehead straight up and spiking
Down his back to the tip of his tail

We put down the scissors, dropped the shears
And swept up the pile of fur
Thinking perhaps we’d made a mistake
Gotten too carried away
Until Mugsy stood up and shook himself
Then pranced up and down the room

Showing off his brand new do

Unencumbered, with nothing to block his view
Of cats and cars, food and chew-toys
And laps to settle into

I think he likes it, I gasped in amazement
He seems to feel freer, he agreed
Go figure, we said in unison
Then sighed and settled back down
To the one thing we both can’t not do for long

The process of writing our hearts out
To the tune of the pouring rain

I dig my new Do!

Resurrection

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 17, 2010 by 1writegirl

One distraction follows
Another
In pursuit of
Purpose to daily

Life

When there’s rarely a place
You have to be
Nor legal tender
To be had

Yet who knows
What stumble might lead
To what
What you might find
In the face of
Life
Re-defined
By the unexpected

The way you can
Move through
Wrongs grown wider
While Reason escapes and
Reasons escape

As a heart
Wakes up one day
To something new
And old at once
And wants it anyway
To realize that
What you dreamed
Is dreaming now
Beside you

And the how or why
No longer matters

Hope is resurrected

Haiku #27: Visions

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , , on September 17, 2009 by 1writegirl

To be free of needs
To pursue only passion
What Life might be like…

Cover

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 13, 2009 by 1writegirl

angels

Curl up in my wings
For as long
As you need

I’ll cover you

I’ll make not a sound
I’ll guard against trespass
Surround you with downy embrace

I’ll block out the light
Tend to your wounds

With my body I’ll take on
The driving wind
With my soul the demons
Relentless

I’ll fight for your reprieve

In the shadows of possibility
I’ll sway to the beat of your heart
Bearing only the weight of
A silver snake

Bartered for the price of
An unfettered moment
Guileless, ghostless and free

And when the inevitable happens
When fate takes me aside
Ordaining without preamble
My turn to come undone

When my fears slide greedily
Over the transom
In wraiths of
Perpetual motion

When I’m battered
Bruised, too weary
And you
Are the only place
Safe left for me

Curl me up in your wings
For as long
As I need

Curl me up and

Cover me

I Will

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 8, 2009 by 1writegirl

I will

Tell you if you have green stuff stuck in your teeth

Never ask you to live in a house
With a white picket fence

Respect your need for solitude

Dance for you…

I will

Be flexible

Speak from brain to mouth
Without filtration

Massage your tired body

Not pretend
Neither shape
Nor expect…

I will

Always love Mamita
Even when she’s old and sick

Care what you think
Feel
Want

Cover you

Trust you…

I will

Help you when I can

Remain your biggest fan

Look you in the eye

Hold what you can give and
Give what you can hold…

I will

Always be on your side

Inseparable

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 31, 2009 by 1writegirl

For Mikey and Smokey

They are
Inseparable

This woman and man

He touches her hair
As if it’s woven of
Black gold

She looks into his eyes
Like they hold
All the answers

His hand reaches out and grazes
Her arm
While walking or sitting
Or standing in line

And she falls asleep each night
On his chest
When he pulls her on top of him
Saying

Get closer

I know for a fact that
They argue at times
Each understands the other is
Imperfect

Yet he sees an angel
A goddess in her
And she sees a hero
A man worth devotion

In a godless world devoid of substance
Inclined toward
Frenetic accumulation
Of that which will

Tear you down

They have set aside
Notions

Of greener grass
Of biding time and
Playing fields

Choosing instead
To see that angel
To adore that hero

And embrace in its limelight
The strength from being

Inseparable