Sunday, November 29, 2009

The Saddest News

Can there be anything sadder than the loss of a child? My heart goes out to a local couple, two people I have never met, who lost a child overnight. We are not supposed to outlive our children and it is a cruelty to great to imagine. Hold your sweet ones near and be grateful. I am today.



Unnatural grief, the cruel betrayal
the saddest trick of nature
the loss of the one who was gifted to them
to dance in their lives forever

What tears they'll cry, what darkness they'll feel
as the day breaks with the blackest of truths
the innocent gone, now a black gaping hole
no condolences or poetry sooths

Stolen between noon and forever
in the earliest days of the dance
hello and goodbye in minutes and years
barely given a chance

Sweetest of flowers dance in the mist
where the sweetest of blossoms now bloom
You now are a darling, sweet child of the heavens
taken from here far too soon.





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Friday, November 27, 2009

Excerpt from INDIGO~A Cottage Darling!

"She was off plucking a dead flower from a planter and it gave Chris a moment to hesitate and then she offered words that rung fake in her ears.
“Time will make it easier I guess” her mind still on the revelation of the moment before. Oh God, what if this was her fault.
Guilt laid a familiar net over her head, trapping her in its mesh, tangling her with the idea that she had caused this, that she had been the reason he was sad. The reason he had died. She was caught in the idea, the thoughts repeating themselves, dragging her under, drowning her with the possibility that because she had let him go he had gone for good."




In writing a "darling" is a piece of prose that is extra, erroneous, something you particularly love that you have written but that doesn't work for some reason or another. I pulled this "darling" reluctantly from the book yesterday though I can't say for sure it's staying away. Sometimes as writers we become so attached to our "darlings" that we get bogged down, refusing to murder them. Instead of completely murdering mine I exile them to a file called "The Cottage" and this was one that was sent yesterday. I had gone into a descripton of the charater's guilt feelings earlier on and I felt it was simply erroneous to the chapter. It may return though, if I can make it work. If not in this book then my next book, where ever someone is wracked with guilt, because I think it's a bit good. So here is my first "Cottage Darling" excerpt from Indigo!



Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!



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Thursday, November 26, 2009

You Crossed My Mind Again Today


You crossed my mind again today
unbidden flash of memory
imprinting on my mourning soul
your brilliant abundant energy

You crossed my mind again today
lost love two decades old
gone forever, stolen away
by the thief that robs so bold

You crossed my mind again today
your arm around my shoulder
dancing on my living grave
and making my heart flutter

You crossed my mind again today
a ghostly reminiscence
reminding me you've really gone
though I can feel your essence

You crossed my mind again today
and kissed my fractured heart
that broke in half so long ago
when we were forced apart

You crossed my mind again today
bringing me release
I said aloud your ghostly name
my darling rest in peace

Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!



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Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Pre-order your copy of my poetry book!


Photo Credit: April Lindfors

My poetry book has been scheduled for publication on December 15, 2009! If you would like to preorder a copy please let me know. The cost is $12.00 per copy plus shipping. The only way to pay is by Paypal at my knufeesgirl@yahoo.com. or by mailing a cheque to me. Email me for the address. Shipping charges will be applied at the time of the order. You can contact me and I will let you know before you pay what the exact amount is.

Just put "pre-order Wind Rhymes" in the signanture portion of your email.

Also, join my BreezeDaze Fan Page on Face Book!

Thank you to everybody for your support. Pre-ordered copies will be signed by me.




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Updates, News and Murdering the Darlings!

It's been 4 weeks of Drama at the Breezie house. Littlest girl, aka Rose Petal, had H1N1, an ear infection, pneumonia and this past weekend, while I attended the opening of New Moon she injured the muscles in her neck which resulted in another trip to the emergency room for xrays and two days of me carrying her around until the tissues healed. I joined a gym, I'm not strong enough for all of this!

So it's been revisions on the novel and finally word on the poetry book. It's ready to go, final proofing is done, the cover is done, the pictures are in there, bios are ready and the ISBN has been assigned and registered with the National Library of Canada. My publishing company is ENNA Imprints!

I was also chosen as a favourite writer over at Poetry Dances! for the November to January period!

I am loving the editing process so far. I've pulled great chunks out of the novel and replaced them with better chunks. Everybody moans and groans at this part but I think watching the book evolve into a better book, reading your obvious mistakes, choosing the substandard parts and popping out all the extra words is a great lesson in self discipline.

I've been "murdering my darlings" which is an expression that writers use to describe removing a piece of their writing that they love but just doesn't work. I've also been practicing a lot of "show, don't tell" and plan to do a blog post on some work I've been doing on that.

I started a workshop online a few months ago and it's been a great learning experience. I am learning so much and I think doing it now in the middle of editing was of great benefit. When I have a section I'm stuck on I ask my teacher to workshop it with me and he is happy to do so. Then I pop it back on the page.

So that's my little update. I'm trying to post something every few days but for a while it'll likely be simple excerpts. As the busy Christmas season comes upon is I'm working on maintaining peace and joy in my life. After the drama of sick children could anything be more desirable?

And remember...keep commenting! You are all being entered daily in the draw for the poetry book! I'm writing your names down and multiple entries will be available!



Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!



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Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Tuesday Teaser~Excerpt from Indigo

"The wind howled and fought with the rain for dominance over the night and neither won the battle. The sunrise that early Sunday morning revealed that the lovers had not slept and they watched it creep up into the sky through the rain-washed windows.
In the scarlet light of the sun’s rays, through some magical trick of the atmosphere, the ocean appeared to be a brilliant indigo rug, spread out over a brand new earth, reborn, ready to be walked on by new beginnings, ready to support life, ready to bear the preordained promise of never-ending love. And she imagined they walked on it, defying science and nature, hovering above the gentle waves, buoyed by the love of the ages."





Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!



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Saturday, November 21, 2009

Excerpt from INDIGO

"Clothes were strewn in surprised piles. The counter held dirty dishes, there was stale water in the sink, the traces of soap bubbles disappearing as the water cooled to a tepid, grey pond. The greasy algae stuck to the sides of the stainless steel sink in a slubby white ring. The beds were unmade and boxes were scattered all over the apartment, as though they had been distributed randomly by some selective tornado. Christianna revelled in the mess. Her nose wrinkled at the smell, tempting her to clean it up, put it back the way it was but she resisted the urge, smiling to herself. She would clean it up in her own good time. It was her secret revenge for the days of living in what she called sanitary confinement."


Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!



Breeze Talks About Weight Loss

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

A Short Story; The Tick of the Engine




She heard the tick of the engine fading in the distance and a shiver went down her spine. Someone walking over my grave she thought as she walked the well-worn path back to the house in the semi-light early morning hours. The cold mist lay over the land, a shroud of stillness that would burn away with the heat of the sun. It was not foggy, not clear and too early to say what the day would be like. As with most Newfoundlanders she thought of the weather often and wondering what the day would be "like" meant fair or foul, rather than whether it was a successful day. A successful day meant a good catch of fish and that was up to providence.

She always walked Tom to the wharf and saw him off; she always woke when he woke and made sure his lunch was in the shabby blue grub box that had been his father's and his father's fathers in times past and it was she who carried it for him to the stage head each morning.

She also always cooked him a hot breakfast and made him strong tea as was her duty and Tom was a rare man, he saw it as a favour, not a requirement and the duty was easier for his goodness. She loved her Tom in the deep quiet way of the times and brushed away acknowledgment, the admission of this weakness of her heart with a brusqueness that belied the depth of her feelings.

She was bone-tired, a weariness she knew was a sign of the blessing to come and she sighed. The babies were coming regularly as was to be expected but they drained the energy from her body more each time. Only her fierce determination to continue as though nothing was amiss as though she were as hardy as Tom thought got her through. She refused to disappoint him with a sign of weakness, something that was not to be borne, and she carried on with determination and grit. He'd married a strong, hardy girl and she'd never allow weakness or frailty to show though sometimes she slipped off to their bedroom to nap while he was gone on the water.

She licked her lips as the wind picked up and the sudden taste of salt on them told her what the direction of the wind was. The tick of the engine faded completely and the pit of her stomach ached for a brief moment as it always did when that comforting sound was suddenly gone. She picked up her pace as the chill broke through her coat and made her shiver again.

It wasn't so cold though that she didn't stop and walk around the bridge that spanned the back of the house to look out over the water for signs of what the day would bring. It was still a bit dark and the shadows of the cliffs and rocks were ghostly in the distance. The water roared like an angry animal, disgruntled at being slowed by the cliffs it bashed against. She suddenly became aware of a storm in the air and a dull ache in her left hip confirmed it for her.

Tom counted on her for weather, she had an uncanny way of knowing when a severe storm brewed, but she'd not had any signs before he left and hadn't known to warn him. The fatigue from the pregnancy had made her head fuzzy and her senses dull. She quickly shook her head, nipping the sense of foreboding that suddenly came upon her, in the bud. She turned quickly to go around the house to the front door before she could give it further license

She entered the house to silence. This early in the morning there was not yet another up, the baby slept with her sisters now, where she slept the longest and the warmest between them. Annie was six and Mary was four. The baby, Rachel was almost two and the younger girls were her constant caretakers. Her mother was too busy with the work of the days to care for babies beyond nursing them while they still needed her milk. But Rachel was now weaned and Annie and Mary loved and doted on their little sister. Bigger sisters, each in her turn became caretaker of the new babies, adopting them as her own. It was the way it was in big families. Boys were different of course, boys learned outdoor work, not baby care, but there were no boys yet to share Tom's load. Maybe this time she hoped.

The older girls, Bessie and Margaret were able to work around the house now at ten and twelve. And at twelve, the eldest Margaret was proving to be quite the hard worker, a pride to her mother as much as a role model for her younger sister Bessie who struggled to keep up but was sickly and weaker and needed a bit more time and frequent rests though she tried hard to learn the skills to keep a good house. Her mother was harsh sometimes with no patience for sickness and weakness and her older sister often did more work to compensate for her closest sister. If the work was done, mostly mother was satisfied though everyone knew Margaret carried the load.

She rarely let her mind slip to the lost ones, the two babies that had come between Annie and Bessie, their only boy, too small to live who hadn't breathed at all and his sister who had lived for a day but also passed too soon to really have made any mark on the world. James and Patience, the boy not named after his father, they'd save that name for a living boy, and Patience, a name too frivolous to have ever been bestowed upon a living daughter, was given to the little girl who would be the only one in the family given a "pretty" name over a practical, serviceable one.

They were each quietly and solemnly baptized in her bedroom and were buried next to each other in the church cemetery, unmarked until one of their parents passed and a marker would be shared with them. She wept for each, the day of their deaths and then that was it. Tom looked at her with confusion each time a child was lost, his blue eyes holding a sad searching, as though he didn't know quite what to do about her or them and she'd stiffened her spine each time and bore up stoically for his benefit. She must be hardy for Tom, like the pitcher plants on the marsh that survived anything the cold north Atlantic winters tossed at them. It was what he liked best about her.

The work of the morning was a blessing for it kept her mind and her eyes off the blackening skies in the distance that coloured the cold waters of the ocean in the dark hue of mourning. She knew Tom would be late; his was always the last boat in. He fished alone, having no brother; he'd always done so though she knew he'd meet this man or that on the grounds where he'd go. It had been clear enough to make out the marks this morning or he wouldn't have gone but now the sky was threatening and dangerous.

She went quickly to bring in the small line of clothes she'd strung up in defiance earlier in the day. Her ears prickled at the sound of the tick of an engine only to be disappointed yet again. Not Tom, the silence between the ticks longer that of Tom's engine and it was that silence between the ticks of the motor that she knew so well. A little miss, a hesitation that distinguished it from Micky Hammond's boat or the Murphy boys' skiff. She watched the sky with quiet anxiety, knowing, were there were fish to be had Tom wouldn't leave that ground for home. She felt proud and frustrated all at once.

The wind picked up and she felt the first pecks of the rain as she dragged the last sheet off the line with a yank and pulled herself towards the house ignoring the increasing twinge of pain in her hip. She might have wrenched it somewhere and she couldn't remember. It meant nothing she thought as she denied every clue that a bad storm was brewing. Her heart refused to believe what her eyes told her because her ability to get through each moment demanded it.

The girls were about their work, bread laid out on the counter rising, potatoes and cabbage for dinner in the bowl waiting, salt beef, turnip, carrots boiling in the pot, the clock ticking off the minutes under Margaret's watchful eye, waiting for the exact moment when potatoes and cabbage would join them. Her stomach rolled at the smell of the aroma of Tom's favourite meal. She went to the pantry and pulled out the boiled raisin cake she'd made the day before. It was to be for Sunday but she thought Tom might want it today. She put the butter out too. He liked butter on his cake.

The table was set and minutes slipped away, one into another until the dinner was cooked. The wickedness of the wind could no longer be ignored and Bessie commented on it, wondering out loud if her father was safe to be out there. Her mother harshly snapped at her to get her lazy body to work, in a sharp tone, and to stop being so foolish over a bit of wind and rain as she rubbed a hand over the ever increasing pain in her hip. It was a bad one. The sea would swell and the wind would dance a deadly two-step. It would come seemingly out of nowhere in the harsh north Atlantic as these storms did, harbingers of death and destruction and more than one vulnerable little skiff had fallen to their sudden swift and malicious fury. While the ocean offered up a valuable gift sometimes it demanded a bounty and that bounty was a price too high to pay.

Yet again she shook it off and her ears strained to hear over the increasing volume of the wind outside. She felt a dread in the pit of her stomach, a deep and desperate dread, despair so sudden, so unexpected it almost took the breath from her bosom. She caught her breath loudly and walked swiftly to the door grabbing her coat as she went. She held it tight about her, the wind pulling and whipping her hair around her face. The ocean, angry and desperate, seemed to be trying its best to knock the granite off the rock-faces. She looked out at the angry water, her wrinkled brow, her sharp gray eyes searching for any sign that he was on his way in. Her anger matched the winds. Her worry was as deep as the ocean. Her desperation knew no analogy.

She looked along the horizon, scanning north to south, an endless, infinite stretch of black water, white only where it hammered against the distant islands and rocks. She fell to her knees in the sheltered corner of the house and prayed to her God in desperation that he bring Tom home safe and sound. She knew, though she wouldn't consciously admit it, that she'd be angered beyond sanity at God if Tom didn't come home today. She hoped he wouldn't hold it against her, for she'd be even angrier at herself.

The wind gusted and whirled, its strength bringing the tears to her eyes that wouldn't come to her in her fear. She wiped them away and stood up. She thought, maybe, the storm was calming and anyway, dinner was done. She walked back into the house, drunkenly in the path of the wind, and quickly she set the girls to getting some food for themselves. She wouldn't show them her weakness, her worry. Tom wouldn't like that.

She ate with them. She filled herself on the boiled dinner and chewed absently on the tasty salt beef that normally she ate with gusto. Her brain cursed her for letting her heart get to her. Weak, she berated herself. She was weak for worrying. She knew for sure the wind was dropping now and she had already heard the tick of Micky Hammond's motor, so different from Tom's that she hadn't even had that momentary quickening of her pulse that it might be him.

She rocked the baby to sleep after dinner, a rare treat for little Rachel who looked up at her mother with large gray eyes that matched her own and a soft smile at this unexpected attention. She loved her sisters but sometimes she wanted her mother, who rarely had the time to stop for her. She fell asleep quickly in the quiet solace of her mother's arms and her mother rocked her far longer than was needed until with a sigh she carried her to the bed, she'd dawdled long enough.

With a glance at the uneaten leftover food on the stove warmer, she went outside with the basket of still-damp sheets she'd pulled in quickly earlier on. She started to hang them back on the line with a defeated air when she heard it in the distance, so quietly; she barely dared hope she'd heard correctly, silently censoring herself for being so faint-hearted. But it grew louder until there was no denying it. That space, that miss, that little hesitation between the ticks as distinct as a fingerprint is on a man.

Each motor of each boat has its own tick and she knew his as well as any Newfoundland wife knew their own. That space, that miss, that little hesitation that identified her Tom's boat from Micky Hammond's or the Murphys' boat. Her heart beat gentler in her breast and the baby in her belly moved with a soft roll inside her as if to adjust itself to the new rhythm it now slept next to. It was then that she remembered to breathe again.

She slowly hung the rest of the sheets on the line and then stopped by and called to Margaret to make a place for her father at the table while she went to meet him at the wharf as she always did. She adjusted her face into its normal serious expression, tamping down the grin of happiness that lurked below the surface.

He brought the boat in closer and she saw as they approached each other, him on the water still, her on the land, that there was a hefty haul of fish in the boat and while she wasn't sunk to the gunwales she was well down in the water. A good days pay. She grabbed the rope he tossed her and tied the little skiff on with the painter as deftly as any man.

"Anyt'ing on da go missus?" Tom asked her with a grin. That bugger, he'd had fun out there!

"Not much" she said brusquely, irritated "dinner's on" and she stepped back as he climbed on to the wharf and took off his soaked rubber clothes and hung them on a nail on the side of the stage.

Then they walked up to the house in companionable silence, her heart beating again in the rhythm it was meant to, with a space, a miss, a little hesitation, a rhythm made by God to match the tick of the engine.


I wrote this a while ago and it is dedicated to my grandmothers, mothers, aunts, and all the women who waited for their men to come home from the sea. It was inspired by a memory of my father who told me about the tick of the engine.

Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!



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Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Excuses Begone!


Dr. Wayne Dyer's newest book, Excuses Begone has not made its way to my library but I did recieve a free download of an excerpt and the 18 excuses he addresses in the book plus the affirmations he gives to counter balance the excuses that we make to ourselves for not doing that which will bring us joy and fulfillment!

Over the next little while I'm going to work on writing about each excuse and then the affirmation that follows it.

The first excuse is: IT WILL BE DIFFICULT

What are you trying to accomplish? Are you writing a book? Changing careers? Quitting smoking? Trying to lose weight?

Who says it will be difficult? Other people who have done it? Other people aren't you? What if it's actually easy? What if this time, because you believe it will be easy, it actually is?

I have two examples from my own experience that disprove the idea that changes have to be difficult.

For years I drank diet coke. I loved it. I consumed large quantities of it every day. I enjoyed the taste and the buzz from the caffeine. But in the last few years I started to see that it really had no redeeming qualities and there were some terrible chemicicals in it that were a little scary when I actually considered them. In the search for a healthier body I knew it had to go. Then one day after Christmas when I tossed out the last of the empty cans into the recycling bin and looked at the overflowing bin I decided right then that I'd had enough. It wasn't a new year's resolution, it wasn't a Christmas miracle. It was me, deciding in that moment that I wouldn't drink it again.

So I stopped.

Was it hard? Nope, there were moments that I thought were hard, but overall, it was relatively easy, once I decided. I didn't even tell anyone. It just became a part of my consciousness that I don't drink diet cola anymore. Once the decision was made there was only the occasional temptation at a restaurant or a grocery story check out and then I would choose water instead.

I have had approximately six carbonated drinks, none of them diet, over the past year. I just stopped. I'm very careful to drink it in moderation and when there is a choice I choose something else.

I've also quit smoking. Was that difficult? I thought it was at the time but looking back on it now, it was about three weeks of difficulty(all of which wasn't actually all that difficult, just some tempting moments) and I never looked back.

Three weeks is a short period of time to be uncomfortable and irritable in the grand scheme of a lifetime. So no, quitting smoking wasn't difficult. Deciding to quit was but only because I didn't want to make the decision! I was attached to the cigarettes and the excuse that it was going to be difficult allowed me to carry on smoking even though I didn't want to. Once I let the excuse go, the quitting was easier!

There is an affirmation that follows the excuse, read it over and decide for yourself if it's actually going to be hard because, it really may not be, once you decide!


Affirmation: I have the ability to accomplish any task I set my mind to with ease and comfort.





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Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!

Monday, November 16, 2009

Excerpt from Indigo~The Novel.

I am deep in revisions, working on chapter seven now. Here is a little excerpt from that chapter. This is a love story, make no mistake, it's romantic and corny and sweet. Some of you will love this, those who believe in soul mates and destiny and predistined love..others of you will scoff and jeer and call it utter nonsense.

It is what it is, all points of view are valid. Don't be turned away though, if you are not into romance, while it is that, it's not just that, it has many layers, some of them cynical and mysterious and fun.

I'm a romantic myself. So it would make sense that I would write romance, though, to be perfectly honest, I rarely read traditional romance novels.


"Had they been able to see, through the dense purposeful fog of the night, they would have noticed that a full and powerful moon hung low in the sky. Had they believed, they would have known that great powers had conspired to connect them forever in the moments that their eyes first met. They could not see that they were held, suspended from cosmic puppet strings, that something divine determined their first meeting, designed their lives, made them fall in love. In spite of the fact that they couldn’t see it though, they could feel it and eventually their hearts would be able to name it. They would call it destiny"


Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!



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Friday, November 13, 2009

Michael Jackson Anthology!


Original artwork by Iaian Greenson


I am very proud to announce that the Michael Jackson anthology, Goodbye Billie Jean, The Meaning of Michael Jackson, that I have been honoured to be a part of is now available for sale through the editor's website and will be available on Amazon very shortly! I contributed a poem to the work.

As I read through the list of contributors I am both humbled and honoured to be in the company of such talented people. The list of contributors is international, varied and impressive. They range from Human rights activists to a Poet Laureate, to Pulitzer Prize winning journalists to a bestselling author!

The person who did all the hard work, who created this wonderful tribute, Lorette Luzajic has agreed to be interviewed here soon and I look forward to introducing her to you!

Meanwhile I hope, if you've a few extra pennies rattling around, you can support her work by purchasing a copy from her directly or when it becomes available on Amazon in the next little while.

I would like to thank Lorette for including my poem in her project. The cover itself, (photo above) is a specially commissioned piece by a fantastic artist Iaian Greenson. It is visually stunning and completely Michael Jackson.

This book is now only available for purchase HERE

A launch party will be held in December and I will be attending. It's in Toronto and if anyone would like to go along with me I can get you in! Just let me know!





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Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!

Double Feature!


Speaking of Sisters: Christina, Sophia, Martina and Alyssa, my treasures!



I apologise for not updating. With sick children, visiting in laws, things were a little crazy around here. It seems we are getting back to normal.

Now I would like to share some of the good things that have come my way in all the craziness!

First of all a while ago my brother's girlfriend contacted me to write a poem for her and her sister celebrating their relationship. Her sister has been battling cancer for ten years and it looked desperate for a few weeks. Fortunately things have turned around yet again and she is stable! I didn't post the poem here(I don't post them all) but I did add it to a poetry website I'm a part of.

This week the poem was chosen as one of the feature poems on this very comprehensive site. The caliber of the writers on there is world class and I'm very proud to be a part of it. Here is the poem for you to enjoy!

Sisters

Predetermined in the heavens
protected by the strongest shield
blowing from the seeds of time
life's harvest sends its greatest yield

Dancing in the time before
determined by the gentle fates
we were to belong together
always from the first debates

Memories chain us with the laughter
adventures of the sister kind
surprises bound our hearts together
strengthening the ties that bind.

Chosen each one by the other
to travel on this earth as one
guided by the same night stars
sitting in the same warm sun

We were gifted to each other
eternal sisters, forever friends
knowing love is never ending
the sweet connection never ends


Gentle solace is our goal now
I for you and you for me
I'm your sister, you are mine
as it was always meant to be.


Sister love, the thread that's binding
souls connected for all time
before and after and all the middles
I am yours and you are mine.

Also this week, a notice came in the mail that a poem I had written for Audrey over at her blog a while back has been accepted into a Canadian Poetry Journal. She had asked me to write about the ocean, a topic near and dear to both our hearts! Here is a copy of that poem which has been printed here before.


Originally posted Monday, June 8, 2009

Audrey's Ocean Poem

Finite yet infinite in scope
our mind does not fully comprehend
the power that lies in the waters
that brace against the tides and the wind

Sweet baleen orbs are but specks
in the vast blue-green mass of your depths
velvet hands with the gentlest of touch
can break man without taking a breath

We love you conversely we hate you
your revenge for our plunder is dark
reminder that you are first master
you pluck justice from us as a lark

Helpless we sit on your swell
hapless and silly and vulnerable
The sea laughs with the gulls on her crest
at our feeble attempts at controlling her

Awestruck we sit as your brother
saline in this pair is prevailing
Man is comprised of the ocean
inspiration the ship we are sailing

Calm as the sun drops below you
yet vicious in hate with the gale
your deception lies not in your depths
but the folly of man's bid to prevail






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Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.



Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!



Breeze Talks About Weight Loss

Monday, November 9, 2009

Pneumonia, Publishing and a Part-Time Job!

Just an update today...I'm exhausted. My little one spiked a fever on Thursday night. It went up and down but yesterday when it went up as high as before I was way out of my comfort zone and popped into the local emergency room where we spent five hours. The diagnosis is pneumonia on her left lung. Two doses of antibiotics and already she is more her happy little self than she has been in days!

A poem has been accepted to a publication called [Word]A Journal of Canadian Poetry and it's printed in Spaniard's Bay, Newfoundland which is kind of special!

And I've been hired part time at a local Children's store. It's very occasional, one or two shifts a week but flexible hours around the kid's school time which is perfect for our family, won't interfere with any of my other stuff like writing, blogging, the Roger's television gig etc. I'm excited to begin training.

So the inlaws are visiting, thank goodness and will stay until the little one is over the worst of it which seems to already be happening. I'll be back when I can. Healing vibes are always appreciated especially for sick little girls.





Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!


Breeze Talks About Weight Loss

Friday, November 6, 2009

Sun Beams


Hot on my shoulder searing the skin
stroking the music that's playing within
fingertips dancing in rhythmic array
along my nerve endings at the cusp of the day

Sprinkled like salt on the edge of the street
frost patterned leaves dissolve from the heat
hot on my back burning like fire
leaving my senses full of desire

Hovering high like omniscient stalkers
watching the runners, the skaters, the walkers
heating my soul like a spark on the hearth
laughing and smirking with solarium mirth

These are the mornings of coffee and tea
mother earth shares her lover generously with me
and I lay here sated from the hot fingertips
sipping through love-bruised smiling lips


Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!



Breeze Talks About Weight Loss

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Writing Books and Writing Poetry: No Creative Flow

Where did my poetry go? It would seem lately that my poetry inspiration has disappeared...I just can't seem to feel poetic and I think it's because I have been directing all of my creative energy into the book.

I love to write poetry, it's my first love and I miss it yet this morning nothing came yet again.

I started to write NaNoWriMo which is national novel writing month, a challenge for everyone to write a 50,000 word novel. I completed it last year and this year I've started the new challenge. I am on schedule at 5000 words or so.

All of the family seems to have recovered from H1N1 and we have the inlaws visiting right now so it's been hectic but fun!

The poetry book is almost set. The photographer is working hard at getting the last of the pictures and she sent me the cover photos she took and they are great. I believe we are waiting on the developing of one roll of film now for one photo..it's getting close, meanwhile keep the comments coming and you will be entered into a draw for a copy!

The rain has been non stop and I'm feeling rather like a big blob. I wonder if my lack of physical activity lately is what is resulting in my lack of creativity. Most likely. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore I looked outside and discovered it was snowing! I really am not a winter person but the snow was a relief after the mucky messy rain. Let it come. It's clean and happy and fresh. I can handle it now until I have to shovel it!

So onward I go, working on the novel today, working on the second draft a little, trying to fine a worthy excerpt to share with you. So far it's not looking good.

I guess the muse will eventually return and my creative juices will flow again. Meanwhile.

I do have a question to all the creative folks. What do you do when you enter a lull in the creative energy? Any tips and tricks for having it return? I'd appreciate any help or this blog will become even more boring than it's been lately!






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Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Excerpt from Indigo~The Novel


"The two men looked at the horizon and as they did the divine hand that drew the seven natural wonders of the world and placed them exactly where they belonged, the hand that sketched the constellations and the planets, the ocean floor and the blue faces of the arctic glaciers, began to etch the grey coast of Newfoundland shade by brilliant shade. Eventually the unlikely companions could make out the individual rocks and trees and by and by they could see the ferry terminal where they would part ways."







Between now and my publication date anyone who comments on a post is automatically entered into a draw to win a copy of my poetry book, Wind Rhymes!. The book should be released somewhere around the end of October! No limit, every comment is an entry!



Breeze Talks About Weight Loss