Writers Retreat


Photo credit: gracey from morguefile.com



Wispy violets sway
As the air from my passing car
Moves them to dance

Driving
Watching
Waiting with childlike anticipation
For the trees to part
Revealing a sparkling oasis
And my beloved summer cottage

Grand memories fuel my emotions
Until they burst forth
In the form of smiles and tears

Two months of bliss
Two months of catching fireflies as the sun sets upon the water
Two months in this writers version of heaven

If only it could be forever ~ then what?
Oh the possibilities!


Dana




Written for Writer's Workshop












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Simple Summer Bliss




Natural
Wild
Silk

Blanketing
Uninspired
Earth

Generating
Visual
Comfort

Simple
Summer
Bliss


Dana




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Untouchables



Suited up
Smelling of cigars
And Whiskey

Gangsta knowledgeable
In the old
City of lights

Where everything
Appears black and white
But we know better

Shades of  red
Splatter in the newly paved streets
As it rains from the sky

Untouchable
Only a for a moment
Cause it's a figment of your imagination




Dana


http://magpietales.blogspot.com/




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Emotional Fever

Quinn Dombrowski


In the grip
Of bitter emotions
Sickness creeps inside the mind
Causing ordinary thoughts
To burn

Burning
Slow
Through
Time

Turning matter into embers
Embers falling into ash
Until nothing remains
But a void cavity

Eyes not seeing truth
Ears deaf to the pleas
Alone with the anger
Alone and never free


Then will
The fever rest
Leaving perceptions changed
Making reality
Not to be

Dana



Written for Writer's Workshop!









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Poetry Guest Post ~ Pets

Written by Sabra Bowers


 A few years ago on a Saturday, Lisa (a friend of mine) was helping me clean and walked out to my garage to go to the laundry room.  She yelled to me that I had a snake in my garage.  I ran to see and sure enough there was a long, long black snake right outside my kitchen door.  Well, I'm afraid of all snakes and right away was yelling, "Let's find something to kill it with."  She said, "No, it is a harmless black snake."  As we debated about how to handle the situation, the black snake slid into my laundry room and slid behind my furnace.

 That night, I left the garage door and laundry room open.  I wanted the snake to have a way to vacate the house. I prayed I wasn't doing the opposite and welcoming all the snakes in the neighborhood into my garage!

 The next day, I wrote this poem. 



Pets

released a bonsai
to fulfill its destiny

not comfortable with
fish in a tank
can't abide a bird
in a cage

not home enough for a dog
slightly allergic to cats

satisfied with bunnies,
squirrels and chipmunks in my yard,
and with the lizard on my front porch

satisfied with the baby bird in a nest
in my hanging petunia,
and with the hawks flying overhead
and resting in my woods

not satisfied with the black snake
in the laundry room
behind my furnace.



Sabra Bowers lives in Atlanta, Ga.  She enjoys writing poetry and reading her poetry at different venues around
town.  You can find one of her poems on Amazon in the anthology Inner Lives  Women Writers Explore Their Identity,
Expression, and Transformation.  She also enjoys writing flash fiction.  One of her flash stories is online in Tiferet Journal
Sabra has an adult daughter and works full-time as a corporate accountant. 


You can find Sabra here: Later, Miss Slater, on Facebook,  and Twitter






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Longing

photo by Mark Bealer



Where is it that our home resides
Where is it that our heart lies
I hear the calling in my soul
I feel the unmistakable ties

Moving slow through the fog
Searching for the morning sun
Grabbing hold of outstretched arms
My travels having just begun


Dana


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Puddle

Puddle, 1952, M. C. Escher






Peace, Tranquility
Collected in liquid form
Mirroring the quiet
Of an early morn

A world renewed
through the storm
For the night
we shall never mourn

Do not break the perfection
For it only lasts a short
while

Before we find a way to screw it up


Dana



* This post was written for Magpie Tales


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To the one who made me who I am...

 Everyone has someone who inspires them, who showed them the beginnings to what will be a great love. Everyone has someone to THANK for showing them a new path that was never visible before.
I have several writers/friends that I can go to for advice and inspiration, but only one has a special place in my heart... and always will.

 Growing up... I was immersed in a world of music, art, and poetry. My love of reading began from the moment I learned how to sound out my first word. My love of poetry began when that first poem flowed from my pencil. I was introduced to genres of music that fascinated me and was taught how to appreciate each one. Art soon followed, Van Gogh being my first favorite. From an early age, I saw the arts in a different light. I saw past the obvious, on a level most kids my age never knew existed.

 This person (who would like to remain anonymous much to my chagrin) has made me who I am today. Some of my favorite memories are of us sitting in the soft glow of a lamp with a record spinning on the record player. Relaxing, eyes closed... absorbing the music and the unique quality the record itself added. In this instance... it's Julio Iglesias, recorded in Spanish. Not knowing how to speak or understand a lick of Spanish... I still understood every word. Images playing in my mind as his beautiful voice lifted off the record and melted my heart. Eyes still closed... my teacher would ask, "What is it that you hear?" "What do you think he's saying?" We then would engage in a conversation with such depth, no child my age could possibly understand... but I did. I was taught to understand...

  This person is who I thank for my ability to write, for my ability to look beyond the outer layer. This person gave me an outlook on life in which I could never repay. I will forever cherish that. I will forever be changed.

THANK YOU from the very depths of my soul.

I am determined to make you proud.



I wanted to share a poem that this special someone wrote. Just so you can experience the mind that mentored me!


Turmoil


Life, begins for each with the cry of need,
         Sure to bring the usual soft smile
         Of a nurturing mother.

Time, with love brings change to the
          Eyes of a growing babe.

Change,  thru time brings reality to the
               Now growing child.

Reality, ensued by the pain of life
             Brings more need.

Life,  with the burden of need, thrust
         Us all into the emotion of love.

Love, now heavy with need, yearns
          Company to ease the ever searching
          Ache of love.

Love, like the nurturing mother, releases
          The hunger of everlasting need.


(Author would like to remain unknown)



Dana


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Parchment Treasures


Still Life, 1670, detail by Jean Fran├žois de Le Motte



Keepsakes
Run amok
Like our love
Memories
Fill parched pages
Ink smeared from salty tears
Long ago dried
But not forgotten
Never forgotten
Unedited
Raw feelings spread
Across the paper
By your hand
To me


Dana


*Written for Magpie Tales




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My give a damn is busted



 Something happened to me this past year. The year after I turned 30 yrs old. I wasn't completely aware of my new found skill until a few months ago. Realization came in bits and pieces until someone  recently brought it out in me... and out in the open.

 I use to be this shy, quiet girl who kept to myself. Hidden away in my room with a book, blocking out the world. I'm older now, but I still generally keep to myself. I'm still quiet and cringe at the thought of being surrounded by strangers. I have a tendency to veer away from negative confrontation and  I panic if someone is angry with me. I'm like a bomb with an extremely long fuse... it takes a lot to set me off, but once you do you soon regret it!

 Before I came to my senses, I cared way too much about other peoples opinions and not enough on the one that mattered most... my own. I was allowing others to run my life by letting them influence my decisions, some of them being life altering. I allowed my feelings to be manipulated by wearing my heart on my sleeve. They knew how to pull and tug at my heartstrings. By not wanting to hurt anothers' feelings, I was sinking deeper into a depression. Finally, I snapped and the light bulb over my head came on.

 So, what is this new skill I speak of? Well...  I woke up one day and discovered that my give a damn was busted and I couldn't be happier!

 Now, I don't hold my thoughts in. It feels great to freely express my opinion and make decisions for my family and I without worrying what everyone else thinks. Guilt trips no longer have an affect on me. That's right... I'm totally immune now. I do what I have to and if someone doesn't like that... OH WELL! I still listen and take the advice of my family and friends. I'm not rude or negative. I don't raise my voice or judge others. I will, however, do what I think is best. I will defend myself and my decisions. Especially when it comes to my children. I am an adult... I am my own person who has a life and family of my own. I am ultimately responsible for myself therefore only I should have control.

Whew.....

 As the days draw closer to my 31st birthday (June 20th), I ponder more about my past. I can see how far I've come and fully embrace my personal growth. It's been a long road and a hard lesson to learn, but I've reached that mile marker!


Dana


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Summer Thunderstorm

                                            Photo credit: snowbear from morguefile.com


The twilight sky
appears angry
due to the formation
of grey mottled clouds
disrupting the setting sun

A thunderstorm
threatens to approach
with a booming voice and
lightening staff
as it marches
from the northwest


Trees looming
like shadows
against a purple canvas
reach with scraggly arms
to retain the last bit of light

What is the
fate of my part
of the world?


Night descends
as crickets
desperately chant
beckoning the rain
to pour



It is time
to retreat to the
comfort and safety
of home


Dana

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Remaining

















Photo credit: jdurham from morguefile.com


Not all wounds
Are healed by time
Only deepening
The pain becomes greater
A drop of blood growing into
A steady drip
Falling from my chest
Darkening the ground beneath my feet

Not all words
Are forgotten in time
Remaining always when the thought
Of you arrives
Causing hurt that is accompanied
By a physical pang
As I clutch my chest
Trying to hold it all inside
Never will it fade
Away


Dana


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Garden Man


image by Klaus Enrique Gerdes





Grown from earth and vine
Smelling so divine
I am the one
To nurture

Pluck me from the soil
Dine
Dine
Dine






Dana


* A poetry prompt written for Magpie Tales



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