A Writer's 21st Century Memoir.

Posts from the ‘Writing’ category

fog, foggy mist

What’s Woven Into The Fog

The lingering moisture that gathered in the air has always done that to me. Perhaps a bit of the past was carefully mixed in along with the misty fog too.

close up letters and writing on paper in typewriter

Sitting Down To Write: My Thoughts On My Second Year Of #OctPoWriMo

It’s an encouraging starting point, a way to help you organize, and an inspiring task crafted to lure the average writer out to do what they love best—write.

cold delicious iced tea drink

#OctPoWriMo: Oct 29-31

You tell me that where you’re from  
a pitcher full of this on a porch  
was all anyone needed. 
It was a link to the past,  
a connection to the future,  
and it quenched  
wandering mid-day thoughts. 

#OctPoWriMo: Oct 27 & 28

And then it happened without warning. 
Many of those same kids  
now in high school or off to college 
don’t come by your house anymore. 
They no longer call on the phone.

countryside in Mississippi

#OctPoWrMo: Oct 25th & 26th

Off-tangent narratives
glide past sounds from our television.
As you sit down and hold my hand
you unravel decades of history.

bench carved stones cemetery

#OctPoWriMo: Oct 22nd-24th

Another friend has died today. 
You make the trek to show support  
and say your last goodbyes. 
I never see you cry. 
You know that they are safe  
in a place without pain or suffering.

beautiful blooming blur, green thumb

#OctPoWriMo: Oct 19th-21st

There’s a secret sea of green  
flooding a room in your home. 
Where leaves sprout and stretch  
their limbs in every direction.

beautiful bloom of roses blooming

#OctPoWriMo: Oct 16th-18th

Brick by brick you built your own house with your hands, 
and beyond plaster and wood you built a home. 

Pomona, agriculture apple apple tree

#OctPoWriMo: Oct 13th-15th

You once resided  
in the heart of the goddess  
of fruitful abundance. 
A house nestled  
the thinning orchards  
that bore life.

reddened hills & adventure in arid arizona

OctPoWriMo: October 9th-12th

Green thumbs and calloused hands turn dirt into a bed of flowers. 
I watch you casually sprinkle life into a seed and watch it grow. 
Mother to children and mother nature you share nothing but love. 
I pray that one day my hands will too learn some of what you know.

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