Category Archives: Writing

The five w’s Day 1

The sides of the old oven shriek in pain and despair, As steel wool battles the years of greasy buildup black blobs of goo stick to the sink, unwilling to give up the fight Morning sun warms the wood floors and her feet, and beams glint off the silver liberated from life’s mire. Join anytimeContinueContinue reading “The five w’s Day 1”

Poetry Month

I’m participating in a 30 day poetry month challenge. We started with a lantern poem. Mate Laughter Memories Genuine love Friend cjl2021 We will be invited to write 30 poems using 30 different forms. I’m very excited about learning new forms of poetry and then trying my hand. You can follow along, receive the instructionsContinueContinue reading “Poetry Month”

Churning

I’m uncomfortable. My stomach churns. My life has been about trying to hold the center line and bring people closer through commonalities. However, that seems unallowable in our current state. Everyone wants you to choose sides or assure them they are the ones that are right while the rest (the other side) do not haveContinueContinue reading “Churning”

Misunderstood

I misunderstood addiction. I thought I was an expert. Food, money, sex. Unfortunately, addiction understands and humbles me. Generally, I don’t take pain pills because I have a high pain tolerance—just Tylenol and Advil. Post knee replacement four years ago (before the opioid epidemic was a thing), I was given 150 hydrocodone tablets to takeContinueContinue reading “Misunderstood”

Motherhood and Letting Go

  Maybe I’ll blog, I think with no real intention (again) of putting effort behind the thought. But then, today, I read the blog of a “friend”–basically someone I met while studying for my MFA- whose words have always touched me in ways I can’t explain. Today they made me cry while I read them.ContinueContinue reading “Motherhood and Letting Go”

Not Where I Thought I’d Be

I’m walking the halls of a middle school headed into the Media Center (what used to be called the Library) where I work. As I open the door I’m surrounded by books. Thousands of them. Written by writers I admire, and some that I don’t. I can’t help but think about the millions of wordsContinueContinue reading “Not Where I Thought I’d Be”

Wrinkle Blanket

As I look into her face, a face I have been looking into since I was born, I lose myself in her wrinkles.  Some fine and barely there, others etched in as deep as if carved there by a stone-cutter.  To her the wrinkles are sometimes valued; but mostly unwanted as they mark the passingContinueContinue reading “Wrinkle Blanket”