I Need A Cup Of Mania

The best laid plans for my day have been misplaced. So have a couple of older poems on my laptop.  I'm thinking ahead, I just wish I had started doing so before 10:00 AM. I'm convinced our cat Evie would have liked a shot at me earlier. She's a sweet thing if you just accept the fact that she is in control.

Looking to pull together some poetry to submit. It's a bit hard to believe that I've had replies to every one of my submissions I've made. I never like to be without something outstanding. I'm referring to the word like you would a check that hasn't been cashed yet not the quality of the work, but outstanding work is good too. And that word check, I suppose that could be foreign to you. It seems to be going the way of things like typewriters, carbon paper, phone booths... I could go on but then I'd just have more to explain.

My Duotrope control panel tells me that I have an acceptance ratio of 8.1% and congratulates me and says that is higher the the average of users that have submitted material to the same markets. That's also sad. (I've added the last part)

It's actually not quite that late- but it seems like it should be. Time haunts me. It always has. I was a blue baby when I was born. A preemie not a smurf.  So obviously I came out of the gate early, not exactly galloping but starting ahead of time. I never thought of it till now but you might say that I was cheating.

There is Evis, her deep meow and footsteps. She could be warning me but I'm not retreating to another room just yet.

I do need to get on with things. I can't continue with nothing under consideration. I've got to stuff to send out again and I've been looking at venues trying to decide what might be a best choice for each pieces.  It's a task I dislike but as long as I keep writing - I have to keep sending.

Stuck In Between In Gaza

In between the screeches of outgoing missals
there are explosions that shake you about.

In between apartment buildings
there is concrete rubble.

In between parents are children
hunkered down in stairwells.

In between one family is an extended one
that has no place else to go.

In between the quiet
there are screams.

In between the periods of commotion
there is the stillness that teeters

in between hope and terror
and knows not which way to fall.

Chinese Poet Li Bifeng Sentenced to 12 Years in Jail : Harriet Staff : Harriet the Blog : The Poetry Foundation

Chinese Poet Li Bifeng Sentenced to 12 Years in Jail : Harriet Staff : Harriet the Blog : The Poetry Foundation

 Sadly the Chinese record on human rights continues to be dismal.

Happy Thanksgiving

In the spirit of the day I offer my off the cuff list of things I'm thankful for:  

• Family
• Poetry friends
• Waterman fountain pen
• Coldstone Sweet Cream coffee creamer
• Black Walnut Ice-cream
• good books
• baseball
• freedom
• health care
• Starbucks
• pets
• Surprise Maples
• our President
• our service men and women
• work
• diet coke

Wishing everyone a safe and happy holiday!

AP Interview: Trethewey a 'cheerleader' for poetry

"I didn't think that it had any relevance to my life, the feelings that I endured on a day-to-day basis, until I was introduced to the right poem. And the right poem is a different poem for everyone..."



 Good Interview with Poet Laureate Natasha Trethewey.


    Click here for Interview by Associate Press

Confession Tuesday - Fruit Cake Edition

Dear readers:

It's been one week since my last confession. Oh my, another whole week.

But let's get started....

I confess that I love Fruit Cake. I may be the only person in the world who enjoys it but what the heck. Not everyone everyone uses it for door stops. One of my children once asked their mother who someone hate me who had sent me a Fruit Cake. She had to explain to some very bewildered children that their father was not being dissed

Mid November and I confess I have no clue how this happened. This has seemed like one of the fastest years. And yet, I confess that there have been some slow assed days. You physics people out there... how does that happen?

I confess this could be the month I replace my Blackberry with another phone.

I confess I need a haircut. I confess that I hope my wife reads this blog post. Cathy has cut my hair pretty much ever since we've been married.

I've got some writing to do yet tonight and that I'm pretty beat already so I confess I need to move on.

Squall

Squall - Andrew Wyeth - 1986

Gray rolling over swelling blue.

White foam cresting, dropping;

slapping the blue over and over.

The sky darkening quickly

a smokey gray, a dirty dray,

bullet gray and now charcoal.

Winds swirl my hair every which way.
My scalp actually pains under pressure.
Waves whack shoreline rocks repeatedly.

Each tide washes higher- a mist rises over me.
My face wet, my lips taste of salt. 
I lean now with the wind.

The water, darker now
seemingly has swallowed the sky;
the two joined in force- rolling in.




Michael A. Wells

The Mag