Author Archives: Dee

About Dee

I am a working wife, geek, and mother of two with opinions about just about everything which I plan to share here.

Our Moon

blood surges through
veins like ocean tides
we ride it out slow
ebb and flow through
nature’s valves the
beating of earth
that salves pain
rhythm of rain
the perigee draws
moon to us
and us to moon
eyes ablaze and heads
upturned we burn to howl
the night and with the dark
pull clouds away as
curtains misted
running higher
ever higher to the
highest places open
spaces throats swell we tell
all the night is ours is moon
is soon to turn away
the earth we live on
planet spins on orbit
comes round covers
ground that glows
light shows ripples on the lake
branches reach to take
the moon in arms of bark
and leaves we grieve
she fades with dawn
the magic gone as sunrise
overpowers but for hours
she is soft and bright
our light our moon

Image Credit – my beautiful daughter Jessica Martin

Fiction, Poetry or Both

I love to write…I love it more than anything else I do. It is cathartic, surprising, challenging, and deeply personal. It is also frustrating, scary, humbling, and a journey. I like to write fiction AND poetry but I can’t seem to do both at the same time. I don’t shift gears easily.

I wonder if anyone else writes both and experiences the same problem or if it is just the way my brain works. I have a story rolling around in my head right now and it seems to block the poetry side of my thoughts. If I am on a roll with poetry, I can’t seem to switch to fiction.

Can I do both?

I feel like I should have started years ago and now I am running to catch up. Is that part of the problem? I seem to run forward and then crawl backwards to read and take notes and figure out what I need to know to keep moving forward. I think I have a talent for it. I know there is so much I need to learn. I’ve jumped ahead and there is a lot of bad writing to do with the goal of becoming better.

Maybe I just need to slow down and relax a bit…slow down and take more time with each piece. I have been taking part in the local Poet’s Society and it is a whole new high, to get an immediate reaction to what I have written. It motivates me to write more and better. I’m still stuck…but I know it is temporary.

We Wait for Joy

Oh God ! You are a bird of the sky
and I am chained to earth
by the gravity of my soul.
I can barely gaze on the high
places where you have left
your footprints in the dew.
I feel you in the warm breeze
that moves across the grasses
where I walk in the morning,
though I would run like a child
to catch you; my steps are small
and the dandelions catch my eye.
I lie in the meadow and catch
your smile in clouds piled on
clouds, banked and traversing
heavens that make me wonder;
how did you think of blue?
You sparkle in the evening stars
as though the planets were
not enough. You scattered
gems like grains of sand to you,
and dressed the sky in your
finery.  A curtain drawn
across the heat of the sun you
give us rest and we wait for
you, for morning, for an end
to mourning
For flight.
For joy.

Photo Credit: This photo was taken by Timmie D. McEachern of Minden, Louisiana. He and my husband went to school together and recently reconnected through Facebook.  Timmie takes wonderful photos of local wildlife hopefully, with his permission, more will find their way to this blog.

see more pics here

Closer Than You Think

earth is just a place
it cannot hold or mold
people sold the green and
bought the dream that
screams just run and run
and never stop you drop
the cleaning off and drive
through food is always fine
no time to craft a meal or
settle for a moment with
familial ties the lies we tell
so what so fine so why so how
the sacred cow of things we reap
for lack of sleep is not for real
we sleep all day and move as though
we are awake but take
a look around the ground is
rushing at us faster than
the sound of prayers can
catch us dues are owed
but down the road so what
me worry too much hurry
I would like to leave not die
but go away a far off place
with blue and green and peace
a pace that matches me
no slavery to clocks and rocks
that fill our pockets list
the crimes set in the dockets
judge the weak and weary
mothers teary I am leery of
the quicker fixes find a cliff
and spread our wings
no bag of tricks is
going to fix this broken toys
where is the joy that we
were promised by the law
no not the joy just the pursuit
but who is chasing who the cliff
is coming end is drumming
beating out a tempo we can
never dance to take
a chance to care to cry to
write it down so someone
somewhere some how
will now understand that
this is not what I signed up
for ever mindful of my own part
still I find it breaks heart
circled round and round
I chase the thoughts down
alleys filled with saddened faces
all in races to the edge
not knowing that it’s all
there is

Knives of Silver 2

Three Word Wednesday prompts: mention, affinity, fidget

a little back story…

“Grandma, why are we here?”

“Hush child.  Wait and watch.”

Libbie fidgeted.  She was cold and sleepy.  Her coat was scratchy and she wanted to be home in her pajamas and bunny slippers  If mama was home she would make her some hot chocolate.  But Mama had to work. She wondered why Grandma was bringing her with her tonight, a school night.  She knew Grandma always came to the graveyard after a funeral.  She had done it ever since Libbie could remember.  It made Mama mad and she couldn’t figure that out either.  She knew they both loved her but they fought a lot.

Grandma spoke, never taking her eyes off the grave before them. “Soon, Libbie.  Something will happen. You must keep watch.”

Libbie pulled on her grandmother’s sleeve. Will you tell me a story while you watch?

Grandma patted her leg and started to talk.  “You know the stories about Jesus?  From your picture bible?  There are more stories in the big bible.  You will learn them when you get older.  The story I am going to tell you is about the night that Judas turned Jesus in to the authorities. My grandmother told me this story when I was about your age”

“Did your grandmother take you to graveyards? Why did Judas turn Jesus in, Grandma?”

“You ask a lot of questions Libbie Bee.  Yes, my grandmother took me with her, just like her grandmother before her. We have always done this.  Now let me tell you the story. Judas was a bad man and certain things had to happen.  I want to tell you about an important part of the story.  Judas was paid for turning Jesus in.  Later, he felt bad about what he did.  He went back to the people who paid him, and tried to give the money back.  They wouldn’t take it and he threw the money away and went and killed himself.”

Libbie frowned. She didn’t like this story very much. “That’s a sad story Grandma.  I’m sure he was sorry.”

Grandma smiled,  “That may be so, but you will learn as you grow up, that there are some things that people do, that can’t be fixed. They can be sorry, but it doesn’t fix anything.”

Libbie frowned again.  She couldn’t understand what Grandma wanted her to see from this story.

Grandma patted her leg again.  “The thing you need to know is that the money was silver.”

Libbie thought about it for a minute.  “Like your special dust?”

Grandma nodded.  “Yes.  Just like my special dust.  This is a true story Libbie Bee,  Ever since that time, silver has been special. There are other stories, but they will wait for another night.  It’s almost time.”

“Time for what, Grandma?  What are we waiting for?”

Grandma stood and started walking toward the fresh grave, “Stay behind me Libbie.”

A mist had drifted in and Libbie shivered.  The mist seemed thickened like Mama’s gravy in front of the headstone and covered the drooping flowers. Libbie squinted her eyes in the darkness.  There was a low keening sound coming from the grave, and something was moving.  Libbie sat as still as she could, frightened now.  Grandma wasn’t afraid of anything!  She walked right up to the grave, holding her little bag of dust, muttering something quietly.  She reached in the bag and scattered it all over the misty covered grave and the mist turned to sparkling glitter that floated away on the little bit of visible of moonlight. She came back and sat down next to Libbie.

“Do you understand what happened here tonight?”

Libbie slowly nodded her head, her face reflected pale in the rising moon.  “I think so. The dead person wasn’t going to stay buried.  You fixed them.”

Grandma hugged her.  “I told your mama you had an affinity for this.  She didn’t want to listen.” Grandma smiled down at her.  “Don’t you worry though.  It will be alright.  You can come with me from now on and I will teach you.  I think it might be a good idea if we didn’t mention this to your mama.  I don’t mind getting in trouble, but I don’t want her to fuss at you.”

Libbie shook her head.  She didn’t like sneaking behind her mama’s back but she didn’t want more fighting between her and Grandma either. “Can we go home now?”

Grandma got up, dusting off the seat of her pants and reached a hand down to pull Libbie up.  “Let’s go home Libbie Bee.  It’s been a long night for you.”

Cleaned Up Family Conversation

Hubs: I hate this thing!
Me: What?
Hubs:  This stupid website.  If I have igoogle open as my home page and click on gmail (from inside igoogle) I can’t send anything!
Me: Just look at the top of the page and where it says gmail, click and open it in another tab.
Hubs: Why do I have to click something else?  It’s a pain in the butt. I’m calling google and gripe them out.
Me: I don’t think your finger will break out in a sweat if you click an extra button.
Daughter: Call the google!  “Operator?  Give me the google!” Wait. No, don’t.
Me: You’ll make the google mad!  That’s kind of like making a world power mad! (laughing)
Daughter: That’s kind of like pissing off 4chan.
Me: Who is 4chan?
Daughter: They are the internets.  They declared war on the Westboro Baptist Church for protesting funerals and stuff and shut down their website.
Me: Oh, so they use their powers for good?  We don’t want to piss them off then.
Hubs: I’m still calling google.

Didn’t We Shine

what it’s like to burn
to feel the years fall away
like skin shed raw flesh
blood pounding through veins
unclogged untwisted

limbs strong and heart
each part each chamber
beating to rhythm of flames
of a thousand candles
handle anything and everything
hands unmarked reaching
teaching all the rest

the roof is falling
we don’t care the night
is calling moonsongs
heart songs strings plucked
all night long

melting down the heat
sweat on upper lips
pooling in the creases wild
righteous indignation needing
action leads to fixing
needing touching everywhere
at once

trading down measured ways
music plays
a soft refrain the rain will
be our soundtrack as
curtains fall stars fall
in fading stages morning
dawns with cooling dew
breezes scatter ashes

just one breath and sleep
filled eyes closed to the sun
the fashions change
we maybe find a slower roast
makes sweeter saucy meat
we chewed it up it spit
us out but once we were
sparklers spinning in the dark
fireworks and fireflies
are only beautiful when
they glow and then the night
swallows light
and we are gone

but didn’t we shine

Friend to Poets

friend to poets
no small thing
words though random
come together
collective love of light
dance of letters
each step marked
by voices singing
spark of creator
from created
fingers might
bring all closer
to heaven’s heart
through art
encouraged
by a friend to poets

Write The Night

Sunday Scribbling prompt: fires

little fires
lit by pens
a million words on
scraps of paper
a million lives
finding respite
falling
falling
off the mind of
kind of wistful
fistful of letters
scrambled up and
thrown like dice
the gamble worth
the ramble forth
the smoke rose higher
to the night and
stars will smolder
bolder ones will
come and say
it better
say it clearer
say it cleaner
work it leaner
than we ever could
but still we strike
the match and
tend the flames
it’s what we came for
stayed for
prayed for
just a little warmth
to keep the night
at bay

Raven and Crow

Three Word Wednesday: Stress, figure, Juicy

Raven picked at the juicy worm, glanced around at crow who was tugging his own dinner from the ground.  Something shivered, feathers slicked down.  Wings ready for flight just in case.

Every day they flew together.  Ate together.  Rested in the tree limbs together.

Shaking her head from side to side she saw, just at the edge of vision, a shadow and then it was on him.  Instinct took over.  She wanted to leave and yet she dove.  He was all.  She drove her beak in searching out eyes from the fur and claw and teeth tearing at him.  She dove and dove again, fear in the background, mindless now just dive and stab – dive and stab.  A swash of pain across a wing.  Stray swipe of talon tore stressed flesh.  Ebony feathers drifting in the sunlight.

A moment and the sun was down and she was human again.  On the ground writhing in pain, she forced herself to her feet, ignoring sharpness and blood.  Grasping the throat and squeezing as claws raked and scraped at skin now.

Raven struggled until the life was gone from it and flung it from her.  She crawled over to him, holding his flesh together. “Nooooooo!” She screamed and held him as he whispered one word.  “Broken.”

As the darkness gathered the predator appeared blurred.  It’s feline figure slowly became a red haired woman. It was her. That witch.  Her eyes open towards the purple sky.  “How could you!  You loved him too!”

There was no one left to hear her.  Now what?  Would she be winged again come morning?  Raven walked over and spit on the corpse, giving it a kick to make sure she was dead. “I don’t care if your curse outlives you.  I’m glad you’re dead.  Even your curse couldn’t separate us.”

She dropped next to him and kissed him gently on his forehead, stroking the crow tattoo over his left eye.  Raven stood and stumbled through the night.

Falling…

stepping closer to the ledge
ever nearer freedoms edge
like a leaf pressed under glass
colors frozen you defined me
roses pressed tween paper pages
crumble tumble far too humble
now I spread my wings and leap
pray the future heart to keep
the clouds roll in and burst in sound
and thunder signifying little
round the thinking in my head
the sinking of the ship of prisons
prisms light reflected from the dreams
the streams of rain to wash me clean
I pledge to fall and in the falling
listen for the inner calling
torn the veil oh torn asunder
pulled the net right out from under
all the days stretch on to night
as I am poised for freedom’s flight

This Same Sunset

the evening sky was brilliant
rose and lavender and palest blue
gilded with the last rays
should have lifted my heart…

but as I looked I thought
under this same sky
a man goes home with
a cardboard box and a pink slip

someone searches rubble for
quake survivor
goes home with a hand full of
dust and tears

a father is shot in a protest
against a government
that cares nothing for his loss
while tv shows
bloodstained concrete

the remains of a child
lost sixteen years ago
are identified and a mother
goes to sleep with fresh grief

the weight of the sunset
was crushing
carrying this pain and worry
grief of a world all
breathing the same air
holding the same sky over
bowed heads and shoulders

I think to myself
we are all local
the clouds are golden over
all and the sun sets
to let each sleep or toss
waiting for dawn

I have nothing in my hands
to work or fight
except prayers and
love for my neighbor
who doesn’t know it’s there

I shrink to my tiny space
on a globe and feel the
smallness of my world
the smallness of my heart
marvel at God who
holds it all in His hands

including my tiny heart
and this sunset

Six Days

This was written in January for an All Poetry contest. The parameters were to write a five line piece for six days and that week ended with the shooting of congress woman Gabrielle Giffords.

i.
some days are
just so much sawdust
and splinters
hammers and nails
wasted sweat

ii.
Wednesdays fly by so fast
coffee barely cooled
as night slams down and
I slide into home scraping
cheeks on pillows

iii.
beaten over the head by
boredom – a huge marshmallow
that leaves no bruise
but regret that
there is nothing to feel

iv.
dawn unbroken
world dreams and I
want more cream in my coffee
but the bus is leaving
and I will be on it

v.
days and days upon more
they seem forever
yet are finite
I will live as though
the sand never runs out

vi.
in six days the world
was created
on the news today
one moment and for some
the world ended

Everyone Needs a Cat

All Poetry prompt: “Most people don’t pour a cup of bourbon on their milk and oatmeal in the morning. It’s just the way it is.” (Dan Fante)

Have no idea how or why I went here but here I am…

I went to visit a friend
and we sat
and talked
about nothing in
particular.
I enjoyed the warm
evening breeze
and sipped my drink,
laughed at a joke,
lulled by the sunset.
His cat jumped up on the
bench next to me.
Absent-mindedly
I reached down to stroke
the damn thing and
next thing I know
blood is dripping
down my arm.
There is a lesson
I’m sure, but
for now
I just want a gun
and a bandage.

My Words

my words
are tiny things
that once lived
in my heart
born in confusion
they became
complete surprise
grew in ways I
never thought of
and I pray they
will bear fruit
as they go on
to have lives of
their own

Not Home

like a shirt that doesn’t fit
too short sleeves
tight across the breasts
hitches up in the back
letting the cold chill me
letting cold fill me

my life is a question mark
an unfinished poem
stilted language and
forced rhyme
words written across
gooseflesh and scars

home is an idea
skin stretched across miles
tentative smiles
that don’t quite reach
brown eyes
I never quite get it
I never will

like the dream where
you’re running
with no hope of stopping
and wake upon falling
with a start and a shiver
I wonder forever
if I just don’t belong here

Unashamedly Unplugged

I hear the world
it knocked on
my heart today
music carried feet
breeze washed clean
hinting at spring to come
Slipping round the next cloud
wanting me to rock it out
speed it up give a shout
I hear em say I should
jump right in
down and dirty
focus on the win
moving and shaking
insides quaking with fear
of a fall rushing sound
rushing ground

but I am unashamedly
unplugged
writing my own music
singing my own songs
I will eat my own words
even when they are bitter
I will own my own screw ups
for I’ve been talking to birds
they say gravity is depravity
and all you have to do is leap
focus on the sky and try
the wind will take you
floating on currents
will be easy as breathing
easy as leaving
I will be on the edge of
your vision no derision
erases spirit; makes you crash
unabashed fly as high
as the atmosphere goes
to the ceiling of everything
sing for birds know
that you can go and wheel
in a sun dog spread wings
birds say down is
just another direction
you choose let your wings
be your compass be
your star you are
running and jumping
first ground then the sky

all the stillness of air
rushing by in the silence
you will find it
surrounds you it
abounds in the moments
between feathered ticking of
clocks doesn’t matter
just time if you fly
you can live for a thousand
miles on those minutes
you’re in it outside of it
around it as it courses through
arteries pumping with joy
years are nothing but
counting I’ve given up numbers
for music and color
a life that’s much fuller
for what is not in it
the baggage is dead weight
and miles upon miles piled
on years upon years
I’m leaving the tears
the fears and self hate
I’m talking to birds
wisdom lives in their words