Tag Archives: Poetry

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I wonder what

they thought

before the doctors

began to diagnose

autism? Were there

just a bunch of

anti-social,

rainman-type,

idiot savants who no

one knew were

really just simply

autistic, blocked

from so-called

“normal” forms of

communication?

How many child

prodigies were over-

looked, genius

unfulfilled?

Then South

Park resumes, and I

let the idiots

entertain my numbed-by-society

brain.

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Today I Saw Chickens Penned-In On The Side Of The Road

 

It’s foggy tonight.

 

sometimes i think

it’s the coming rain,

or sorrow,

or pain,

or simply my brain,

the years of smoking too much

or drowning my fear

in gallons of beer,

tumblers of whisky

on the rocks.

 

other times i think

it’s just my life,

the listless minds surrounding

me, my craving need

for something

anything

more than this

inconsequential existence.

 

or perhaps it’s only

the full moon rising,

the pink-blue sunset,

the bitter wind, as i walk down

the street, away from

you and you and you.

 

And I give the world the proverbial finger.

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Forever Nocture: October Issue

I just wanted to pop in and say “HELLO PUMPKINS!”.

I was published today in the October issue of Forever Nocturne! Go me!

Anywhosit…I also wrote a post over on my other blog today, so you can check that out here.

Blessed Samhain, everyone! 🙂

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tired

image

tired

of misery
of anger
of lying
to you
to myself

tired

of walking
on eggshells
of trying
to be something
you perceive

tired

of dreaming
of the real me
my dreams
my love
my sanity

tired

of treading water
reaching out with
soothing caresses dragging
me down
into oblivion sweet
majestic
lovely
haunting

and so I sink
sleep
dream
of escape

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winged beauty

 

 

i see beauty

in wings of moths

steely greying brown

smears of wavering

fluttering

chaos

these plain jane

butterflies dying

vying

for light

i flick the

switch on the lamp

and watch it bounce back and forth

inside this shade

only then do I realize

this winged beauty is

my soul

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tonight

life sets

like sunsets

chasing dreams

light

my love

my nights

where life

can be

more ordinary

complacently

wired

wandering

lost

dreaming

lies like grass

crunching

under my feet

delete

all the lies

contradicting

what I’m feeling

tonight

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broken

 

I spend my time

swimming inside my head

thinking

drinking

away this sadness

 

Loathe this perfect

life I will never have

and I spy

inside

a longing to

wish upon stars

 

Dream

to keep these

memories  from

seeping into my

oblivion

I seek

solace

peace

quiet

 

and wait patiently

soundlessly

hoping for tomorrow

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Because it’s not always easy to know how to live.

Synopsis:

A deeply evocative story of ambition and betrayal, The Paris Wife captures a remarkable period of time and a love affair between two unforgettable people: Ernest Hemingway and his wife Hadley.

Chicago, 1920: Hadley Richardson is a quiet twenty-eight-year-old who has all but given up on love and happiness—until she meets Ernest Hemingway and her life changes forever. Following a whirlwind courtship and wedding, the pair set sail for Paris, where they become the golden couple in a lively and volatile group—the fabled “Lost Generation”—that includes Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound, and F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald.

Though deeply in love, the Hemingways are ill prepared for the hard-drinking and fast-living life of Jazz Age Paris, which hardly values traditional notions of family and monogamy. Surrounded by beautiful women and competing egos, Ernest struggles to find the voice that will earn him a place in history, pouring all the richness and intensity of his life with Hadley and their circle of friends into the novel that will become The Sun Also Rises. Hadley, meanwhile, strives to hold on to her sense of self as the demands of life with Ernest grow costly and her roles as wife, friend, and muse become more challenging. Despite their extraordinary bond, they eventually find themselves facing the ultimate crisis of their marriage—a deception that will lead to the unraveling of everything they’ve fought so hard for.

A heartbreaking portrayal of love and torn loyalty, The Paris Wife is all the more poignant because we know that, in the end, Hemingway wrote that he would rather have died than fallen in love with anyone but Hadley.

I just recently finished this exciting new novel by Paula McLain, and even though I checked it out from the library, I will be buying this book, simply because this is one of my new top ten favorite novels of all time.  (Thanks, Dan, for the recommendation.)

It’s poignant.

It’s lovely.

It’s heart-warming.

It’s heart-breaking.

It’s a glimpse into the often chaotic mind of a classic American writer.

It makes you want to read The Sun Also Rises again. And again.

From the start of the novel, I identified with Hadley, Ernest Hemingway’s first wife.

But by the end of the novel, I kind of identified with Hemingway as well.

Or perhaps I simply felt sorry for him.

As a writer, I’ve had my own struggles with depression and alcoholism, and even thoughts of suicide.

Written from the perspective of Hadley, it paints a portrait of a man, a child, a lost soul, wandering through the darkness of the world, looking for light, inspiration, and acceptance.

The language is gorgeous. The POV changes between Hadley and Ernest. It makes you want to spend all day in a cafe, drinking coffee, and reading.

This book is a definite MUST READ for the Summer!

PAULA MCLAIN was born in Fresno, CA in 1965. After being abandoned by both parents, she and her two sisters became wards of the California Court

System, moving in and out of foster homes for the next 14 years. Eventually, she discovered she could — and wanted to — write. She received her MFA

in poetry from the University of Michigan in 1996, and since then has been a resident at Yaddo and the recipient of fellowships from the National

Endowment for the Arts. She is the author of two collections of poetry, a much-praised memoir called Like Family (Little Brown, 2003), and one

previous and well-received novel, A Ticket to Ride. Paula McLain lives in Cleveland, OH with her family.

You can find Paula McLain on Goodreads.com.

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summer sets

As I sit quietly in the corner,

 reading  words so full of hope,

love, loss, and new beginnings,

 a soft pinkish-orange twinge of light

 radiates through the window.

The sun sets yet again in the West,

and I grasp at promises of light,

impending dark,

but no matter now the insignificance of

fate, time, darkness and dreams.

This, only this

is the moment I have waited for.

Just this glimpse of beauty,

fading quickly into the horizon.

As the night looms closer

and still closer,

creeping into twilight.

Then finally, the sweet bliss of night.

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glimpse

caught between

screen and glass

truth and lies

denial of self

banging on my window pane

remorse breathes steam

in dreams

as I draw designs

making marks

slicing into soul

condensing

into

droplets

of

pain

that drip

   drip

      drip

blinking down

and in that brief moment

before they disperse into air

disappear

I see

perfectly

visions of the future

I have not yet attained

 

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