Tag Archives: poetry

Remembering Maya Angelou

I would just like to take a moment to honor one of the greatest women of our time: Maya Angelou.

I was first introduced to “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” in high school. The images of her traveling by train with her brother as still as vivid today as they were when I first read the story.

I started reading her poetry when I was about 18 and still re-read her poems today. She is not only a refined writer, but she is also a woman who used her talents to bring change–for the better that is.

Though many of her poems focus on her race, they tell the truth about any person who has had to struggle in a racially and ethnically challenged environment.

As a woman, her poetry speaks to my desire for complete equality, but not at the expense of destroying men as many modern feminists preach.

She was (and always will be) a woman of grace, a woman of morals, and a woman of peace.

Thank you Ms. Angelou for the many years of work, service, and love that you brought to the world.

Blogging Dilemma: The Eclectic Blog

I have a blogging dilemma. My blog is eclectic, because I am a woman of many interests.

Most of the blogs that I read are streamlined and focused on one general topic. There are blogs that give household tips, decor advice, and DIY tutorials. There are the blogs about travel which include plenty of information on travelling,  adventures in new places, and are full of photos.  Some writers have blogs that include writing tips, samples of their fiction, and poetry.  Some bloggers simply write about life in general–what their thoughts are on local, national, and international events, humanity, society, and quips about daily life experiences.

Then there is my blog.

It doesn’t have one genre.  I post furniture & decor projects, interior decorating that I’ve done to include home improvement. I post my musings, poetry, photography, scholarly writing and other various writing. I have just started sharing about my adventures of moving to and living in Germany and will be posting a lot of travel related writing.  I post about life–big and little moments.

I came across a post from The Daily Post’s “Blogging 201” series the other day.  Blogging 201, Day One: Set Three Goals encourages the blogger to “consider what you want to accomplish with your blog.”

When I first started my blog, my intentions were to share my writing and musings.  Then I began posting my DIY home improvement projects, furniture makeovers, and various crafts.  It has grown into an eclectic mess.

Do I simply leave it as is? Should I have two or three different blogs?

Tell me what you think I should do!

 

“Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost–Poetry in Motion

“Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost. Images by me. This was originally part of a project for my poetry class, but since this poem fits the transition in my life and the lovely spring weather here in Germany, I thought that I would share it with you.  Hope you Enjoy!

 

The Viewing of Miss Saigon

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Theatre is filled with buzzing,
people talking in low tones,
as we greet one another
and talk about the show.

Crowd assembled in anticipation
of what they soon would witness,
will it be better than Madame Butterfly?
Hush falls over the crowd.

We marveled as the lights fell.
the orchestra begins to play,
The stage looks like a battlefield,
so detailed in every way.

We watch intently, emotions whirling,
as the story unfolds before our eyes.
Vietnam Veterans restless, uneasy.
They know. They Know.

House lights rise and illuminate
tear streaked faces, tissues in hand,
Vietnam Veterans hang their heads,
collect themselves and rise.

We relieve ourselves and re-fill
with wine, beer, and martinis.
We file into the theatre,
eagerly anticipating the finale.

Will he live? Will she find him again?
Vietnam Veterans know the end,
They lived this story.
They know. They know.

The crowd watches, unable to breathe.
The fight is intense.
As one the crowd sighs with relief,
the hero lives.

The room vibrates and hearts race.
In awe the crowd looks above,
from the ceiling a helicopter appears,
thunderous blades whirling.

At the chain-linked fence she screams.
Miss Saigon, papers in hand,
Begs, pleads for freedom granted
Only to be shoved away like garbage

We watch in anger, heartbroken.
Vietnam Veterans shed tears.
They lived this nightmare.
They know. They know.

The house lights rise once again.
The crowd rises, slowly, solemnly.
No one speaks. We do not dare.
Now we know. Now we know.

Write

Bright screen glares at me
While prompt flashes annoyance;
Simulated white page is blank,
Like the edges of my mind.

Words do not come, do not flow;
Sentence making fails me.
Just one word is all I need
To begin the story.

Characters have no voices,
These poor mutes have no life.
They wait like spiders
In the corners of my mind.

No silk to weave a web,
These blank characters wait
For a word to begin
A word to begin their story.

Advice givers say:
“Start at the end”
“Start at the beginning”
“Start with one word”

My champions say:
“you can do it”
“you are a great writer”
“I have faith in you”

With advice givers and champions
Inside my head,
Tuning out all else,
I sit. I stare. I put fingers to keyboard.

The simulated white page remains blank.
The cursor flashing angry now.
I cannot find the word.
I do not have faith.

Then suddenly it appears
Like a flash of lightening
Seen out of the corner of my eye
A word.

Write

So I type the word
It is not the web of a story
It is not the voices of my mutes
It is my voice. My story.