A New Year to Give Thanks

Happy New Year, Dear Friends. Like the last two years, 2018 was another tough one for many of us. I haven’t said much about that for me and had fallen silent of late.  I guess that’s because I have a tendency to close off when I’m deeply troubled. Aren’t we supposed to stay positive, feign anything but the sadness and fear we might feel? NO. WE. ARE. NOT. I can’t afford to do that at all. Nor can I hold back my gratitude and love. For this reason, I’m giving thanks today. My gratitude for life is lodged in my…

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“Dreamwood” by Adrienne Rich

  In the old, scratched, cheap wood of the typing stand there is a landscape, veined, which only a child can see or the child’s older self, a poet, a woman dreaming when she should be typing the last report of the day. If this were a map, she thinks, a map laid down to memorize because she might be walking it, it shows ridge upon ridge fading into hazed desert here and there a sign of aquifers and one possible watering-hole. If this were a map it would be the map of the last age of her life, not…

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My Writing Process #MondayBlogs

Thanks to David Colin Carr for the invitation to take part in #MondayBlogs. I first met David in July 2011 in Bolinas, California at The Writer’s Retreat of Your Dreams, where he assists Laura Davis with this amazing six-day event. Since attending two more retreats with David present, we have shared writing, laughter and plotting mischief. Here are my answers to the questions: What am I working on? Currently, I am writing a memoir called ‘That Terry’. This is my true-life story of surviving a violent, sadistic family who would have destroyed me if I did not run away with Police…

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“You Take My Hand” – Margaret Atwood

You take my hand and I’m suddenly in a bad movie, it goes on and on and why am I fascinated We waltz in slow motion through an air stale with aphorisms we meet behind endless potted palms you climb through the wrong windows Other people are leaving but I always stay till the end I paid my money, I want to see what happens. In chance bathtubs I have to peel you off me in the form of smoke and melted celluloid. Have to face it I’m finally an addict, the smell of popcorn and worn plush lingers for…

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Tonight No Poetry Will Serve – Adrienne Rich

Saw you walking barefoot taking a long look at the new moon’s eyelid later spread sleep-fallen, naked in your dark hair asleep but not oblivious of the unslept unsleeping elsewhere Tonight I think no poetry will serve Syntax of rendition: verb pilots the plane adverb modifies action verb force-feeds noun submerges the subject noun is choking verb disgraced goes on doing there are adjectives up for sale now diagram the sentence   Adrienne Rich, May 26, 2008.  

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Translations – Adrienne Rich

You show me the poems of some woman my age, or younger translated from your language Certain words occur: enemy, oven, sorrow enough to let me know she’s a woman of my time obsessed with Love, our subject: we’ve trained it like ivy to our walls baked it like bread in our ovens worn it like lead on our ankles watched it through binoculars as if it were a helicopter bringing food to our famine or the satellite of a hostile power I begin to see that woman doing things: stirring rice ironing a skirt typing a manuscript till dawn…

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Pears – For Kathleen B. Nestor by Mary D’Angelo

  O, how you filled my baby days with sticky sweet-tasting pureed pears, strained through the family sieve. The yellow-skinned fruit with the spherical base and tapered top that you would skin with your sharp knife.   How we laughed when the cat played with the peel, pawing it through the air, while I sat strapped in the high-chair, my mouth shaped in the smallest O, my eyes wider than the years between us.   My mouth a hangar, the spoon of pears a plane that zipped though the air, each swallow followed by a laugh.   How our memories…

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The Salt God’s Daughter – Ilie Ruby

5.0 out of 5 stars Do Not Miss This Book, October 17, 2012 By TD Gibson “T. Gibson” This review is from: The Salt God’s Daughter (Hardcover) The Salt God’s Daughter, Ilie Ruby’s latest novel, is set in the 1970s in Long Beach, California, on the frigid, mysterious and unassuming Pacific Ocean. With remarkable diction and cadence, Ruby has skilfully sculpted an epic tale about the lives of three generations of women and written it with such eloquence, the pages often sang to me, leaving me salt-drenched, feeling protected by fuchsia bougainvilleas, and in a state of breathlessness. From the…

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Letter to Grandma – Kiran A. Thakare

Leaving you There in the jaw of cruel niyati thousands of miles away I came here to strengthen my beliefs and to return to fight your war my war at home.   Now three years have passed you wrote me “I am anxious to see you come home soon” I lied to you, saying “Aattya I can’t come home now I have some last moments’ work to do.” I hide from you Yes Aattya! I am trying to make some money to buy you a gift.   The thought of my return rejoices me how proud you will be to…

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Oh Writer’s Voice – Why Don’t You …?

Since I was introduced to the juicy writing prompts Laura Davis posts weekly on The Writer’s Journey website, I’m in writing prompt heaven. They stir up my creative juices, as they did again today. Describe what writing practice is to you. My first inclination?  To scribble down “torture.” Because there are times it feels like that. Stepping on a nail.  Painful. Hard. Bloody. After I took a breath, I approached it as a writing practice. Once I started, I let my keyboard sing, not stopping or editing,  and came up with the following. “Yanking freshly washed sheets out of a…

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