Wednesday, August 14, 2019
Friday, July 26, 2019
My Summer Witting Playlist on Spotify
Rx for Writing:
Coffee or Wine (depending on the time of day)
&
Monday, July 22, 2019
Assimilation of Yoga , Writing, and Life in General
I am trying to achieve some
assimilation of yoga into my daily living, and into my writing.
Yoga
takes discipline for starters. This is something that would likely help across
many areas of my life.
The
byproduct contributing to a calming or peaceful presence that allows for a more
meditative state of being; where yesterday and tomorrow are pushed aside to
make way for being in the present. That is where we can find ourselves,
stripped down of the weighted anxieties that we tend to carry.
Tuesday, July 09, 2019
Confession Tuesday - Poem finds Home Edition
Dear Reader:
It's Tuesday once again. A weekly occurrence and while my Confession should be weekly as well, I sometimes fail. Hey, I'm human!
On the way into the office this morning I was looking at the sky and reflected on the color variations and thought I should write something about this. But I didn't. I'm not sure that I had anything remarkable to say about it, but I really didn't try and that is precisely what I want to talk about.
In recent times I have thought about writing, mine at that of others. I've also thought about those who don't as a rule sit and commit ink to a page. I think sometime in the recent past (though I can't pinpoint exactly when or what caused me to think about this, it occurred to me that everyone has a story to tell. I've heard that said before but I never really thought it was meant for me. I always think when you are telling a story that you are making something up - something fictional or you are relating an actual event that you are sharing with others. I don't know why, but I never really accepted the fact that poets had stories to tell.
I think of world travelers with unique experiences having stories to tell. Or, persons who have survived some illness or torture, or with some remarkable life discovery having a story to tell. I think it all boils down to is this a story worthy of being heard? Sometimes I think about memoirs that I have read that had very dysfunctional people in them. I think about what caused me to consider such a story worthy of being told, of being read. I don't think we always can know what another will be interested in, but if we write, and write with a creative flair that makes what we say interesting. Sylvia Plath used to say that everything was writable.
What I wonder today, is what stories that are waiting to be told at our southern border? What stories need to be told? Who will step up and fill this need? I confess that I think about this and it troubles me. [long pause for reflection here]
On another note, One of my orphan poems went out into the world this spring and has found a home. I pleased to share with you this poem that just came out yesterday in the Remington Revied - Summer Edition.
It's Tuesday once again. A weekly occurrence and while my Confession should be weekly as well, I sometimes fail. Hey, I'm human!
On the way into the office this morning I was looking at the sky and reflected on the color variations and thought I should write something about this. But I didn't. I'm not sure that I had anything remarkable to say about it, but I really didn't try and that is precisely what I want to talk about.
In recent times I have thought about writing, mine at that of others. I've also thought about those who don't as a rule sit and commit ink to a page. I think sometime in the recent past (though I can't pinpoint exactly when or what caused me to think about this, it occurred to me that everyone has a story to tell. I've heard that said before but I never really thought it was meant for me. I always think when you are telling a story that you are making something up - something fictional or you are relating an actual event that you are sharing with others. I don't know why, but I never really accepted the fact that poets had stories to tell.
I think of world travelers with unique experiences having stories to tell. Or, persons who have survived some illness or torture, or with some remarkable life discovery having a story to tell. I think it all boils down to is this a story worthy of being heard? Sometimes I think about memoirs that I have read that had very dysfunctional people in them. I think about what caused me to consider such a story worthy of being told, of being read. I don't think we always can know what another will be interested in, but if we write, and write with a creative flair that makes what we say interesting. Sylvia Plath used to say that everything was writable.
What I wonder today, is what stories that are waiting to be told at our southern border? What stories need to be told? Who will step up and fill this need? I confess that I think about this and it troubles me. [long pause for reflection here]
On another note, One of my orphan poems went out into the world this spring and has found a home. I pleased to share with you this poem that just came out yesterday in the Remington Revied - Summer Edition.
Keep[ing It] Going
I throw another log on the fire.
I have one left that I am saving—
Alone; I keep practicing.
One day I may get it.
Tolstoy said The strongest
of
all warriors are
these two—
Time and Patience.
I know if you were here
you would applaud, well
done!
And maybe I am better,
but you were kind
and always saw something
fly outside the picture frame.
You had the eyes—
they were plugged into your heart,
a strong heart. A sharing heart
that sometimes would pump
for both of us.
This log has been burning all night
now. It shows no sign of extinguishing
itself. My practice continues.
May you all have a safe and enjoyable week ahead.
Thursday, June 27, 2019
Chinese PEN Center reprints Tiananmen Mother
The Independent Chinese PEN Center republished my poem Tiananmen Mother on its site. I feel honored.
A Little Slice of Confession Tuesday
Dear Reader:
I know it's Thursday and I have missed the customary Tuesday Concession. (hanging head low) I hope you will accept this late and tiny slice of my recent life. It's been a week and 3 days since my last confession.
It's also been one debate of 10 Democratic candidates for president last night (another one with 10 more will be held tonight. It's been a Father's day since my last confession, and it has been a jumbling of many books that I am reading at the same time. (That's how everyone reads, right?)
Summer is officially here and we have colorful plants blooming to show for it. Cathy gets truly excited with plants in summer. I think she gets that from her grandmother - who was affectionately known as granny. When I leave in the morning or when I come home in the evening I am greeted by colorful unfolding nature before my eyes. I confess I love this. I love knowing that she loves gardening with flowers too. By the way, we have tomatoes on our tomato plants (our one cash crop).
I had a rejection of poems in a contest since my last confession. I don't often dwell on rejections. I am sure this was a form one too. But it did happen to be the same place that I once received a form rejection with a handwritten note that said, "you were close." But, I digress, the part of this rejection that caught my fancy was as follows... "We strongly believe that a poem's value is not determined by its publication, or by the selection or non-selection by a limited group of readers. The editors urge you to wholeheartedly reject this rejection, and send these poems out again and write some new poems, and sent them out too." I confess this made me smile.
Watching the Democratic candidates debate on the first night, left me feeling a little empty. Of what I saw I was most impressed with Senator Tulsi Gabbard, Julian Castro, and Cory Booker. Elizabeth Warren after a strong initial exchange sort of went to sleep. What she said was pretty much her normal stump speech I've heard countless times. The only negative was that she took a position on health care that would be unattainable as the way the laws are written now, hospitals would have to close their doors over authorized payment amounts. I suspect she would ultimately look for a fix for this but it did seem like a big gaff. No one shined. I expect the bar will be higher tonight.
Another confession, I am working on my annual Poet Crush list. (link to last year) It should be out this month, but I have read so much this past year, I am having to do a fair amount of weighing those being considered to keep it at 6. Hopefully sometime in July? Maybe, Hopefully.
That's it for today~
Be safe and of much joy!
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
Confession Tuesday - One Less Orphan Poem.
Dear Reader: It's been a relatively normal week of weather since my last confession Little bit of rain but mostly nice sunny and comfortable temperatures. So close to normal it's almost scary.
I received good news on Monday. Another orphan poem of mine found a home. Picked up by Remington Review. This is the third time they have taken one of my submissions. It almost feels like family. I lover their format. They always put together a nice issue. So the new poem will be in the Summer edition.
I confess that I feel like I need to be a bit of a hustler. Hurry and get more work submitted. I try to balance writing time with administrative things, like submissions, notes, and reading. I need to learn to transition from one to the other better. It's like yoga for me as a newbie- Learning the individual poses is one thing. It's another whole challenge to learn to smoothly flow from one position into another and another. I confess that when I have an acceptance or rejection I always feel the need to immediately make sure I have more work out there. There was a time when I had a lot of poems floating around between various venues but as I work harder to satisfy myself with each poem, the time spent increasing my vault (so to speak) of material that is available means I am adding to it at a slower pace and therefore feel the pressure to increase material available for submission.
The news of a hung jury in the Scott Warren case was reported yesterday. I confess that while it was a hung jury 8 to 4 for acquittal, It is a reassuring statement on humanity.
That's it for this week's confession. Be safe and live on the edge.
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