I haven't seen this in a while....so here it goes!

I've missed writing so badly. I haven't made time to be creative and I honestly think I have been more stressed because of it. The only recent development has been my teaching position at a Hardin County School. I'm blessed to have that position, but I am even more blessed to have have a man in my life that appreciates the crazy in me. He looks at me like I am "it." (Not the clown...haha) So, since he has served as an inspiration to me... here it goes.

Beauty is in his face,

but only life has crossed mine-

No, it isn't age, I say

only what I have lived.

Life left me with 

older eyes, a friend once told me.

The eyes his beauty looks 

deep within.

My lips have known 

my tears-

tears that fall like snowflakes

gently to the winter's floor. 

His hands have 

brushed them away 

as if they were drips on a canvas.

Life has crossed my face-

but his beauty kisses it still. 

Thank you for loving me still. 

Writing for pleasure....and just because you can!

There have been many skeptics in my life so far. People telling me that I wouldn't get far with my writing, those who just criticized so often only to bring me down, and then there are those people who tell you that your writing is darn right....NO GOOD! Well, I am here to say that I do not care what those people think. All that negative never outweighed the positive. I have so many supporters of my writing that I keep going. I write for pleasure and what I know. Things that I have discussed in my earlier blogs. So, if you like writing smut, go ahead. If you enjoy writing about nature, more power to ya! If you write how-to pieces because you love lists....that is still writing. People do not like to write-but sometimes they do not realize that they do, just in a different way. For one, what about recipes? Grocery lists? Comments on a twitter or facebook page? Maybe you even text....that is writing, my friends.

Here is your time to write.....and I encourage you to pass this blog along to others so they can take a stab at writing. I want a paragraph about something you love. No, it doesn't need to be grammatically correct or have LARGE words. It just needs to come from the heart. Here...I will show you.


The grass is said to grow blue and beautiful here. I say it's ordinarily green and sometimes brown from the scortching heat. I remember running barefoot through that same grass. My feet would be red and dirty. I loved it then. Childhood in Kentucky wasn't always sheets hanging on the line, blue skies, and birds chirping. Sometimes it was lightning bugs, damp grass, and stars so close you could run and catch them. That was what I used to think. Now, it has changed just a little. That's because I'm all grown up-wishing I was still that little girl, all content and all.

I'm back and Yes, I am still writing.

So....I've missed blogging and I'm going to try my very darndest ever to start doing it every week.
My life in a nutshell....well, currently.

1. I graduated from Spalding University with my MFA in Creative Writing for Children and Young Adults in May of last year....I cannot believe its already been that long.
2. I am now back in school going for my MAT. For those of you who do not know what that is...It means I love teenagers so much I actually want to teach them English. :)
3. I moved in with my boyfriend, Mr. Johnny. It's been very interesting and worthwhile so far. He hasn't made me sleep on the couch yet....and I haven't caused him to blow bubbles with my incessant chatter. So, I'm assuming its going well. HAHA!!!!
4. My beautiful and intelligent mother and older sister are both graduating within two weeks of each other. My sister is graduating with her Bachelor of Science in Justice Administration from University of Louisville. She vows never to return to college. Love her! My mom is graduating with a Bachelor of Science in Social Work from Spalding University. My mom loves to help others. That's what makes her ten times more beautiful than she already is....I love her FACE!!!
5. My best friend, Mo just moved back to Kentucky. She is so lucky because I missed her and Mia (her daughter) like whoa.
6. I bought a treadmill...why is this news? Well, this means that I have no excuse NOT to exercise. It sits next to my closet with all my rather big clothes. Lets just say....it's definitely motivation.
7. I got a perm because I needed a change of hairstyle and now I want something else....ugh.
8. I finished the first draft of my young adult novel. I am so pumped because I have a month off of school and work and I am going to get busy and finish the second draft.

One last thing is that I totally owe everyone a writer's blog entry. The one thing that has been popping in my head a lot lately is my novel. As a lot of you already know...it's about a 500 year old witch that looks 17 and she's totally cool (can't really tell you why exactly) and a 17 year old football player that finds out he's a werewolf. There are supernatural elements all through it and there is historical-based events in which help me tell the story. If you enjoy the Civil War, Queen Mary's (a.k.a Bloody Mary) reign in England, Greek Mythology, and Native American culture....well, I have covered it all. I bit off a lot and it is taking me forever, but I will get to the finish line soon enough. I owe everyone an excerpt from this, so here it goes.

As I’m leaving the library I see Vee walking into the girl’s bathroom. She looks fatigued and sad. I look around to see if there is anyone in the hallway, but everyone is in class. So, I take it upon myself to go into the bathroom a minute after Vee does. Something tells me that I need to go unnoticed by her or anyone else for that matter. I walk into a dark corridor and turn myself into clear mist. This way I will go in the bathroom without being seen. There’s an inch crack between the bottom of the door and the floor and I drift in. Vee is standing at the sink holding her stomach and her eyes are glassy. She must be sick.

            She turns the water on and splashes it on her face a couple of times. Then the tears come. They fall slowly down her face and onto her shirt. Her heart is breaking and I want to reach out to her. Console her spirit. Something tells me that this is a long time heartache that she’s lived with for some time. She has guarded herself from my power enough to where I can’t see into her spirit to see what has her so sad. Some people have this lifetime wall built up so far and strong that it is hard for even a witch to get through.

            Vee walks to the bathroom door and wedges the garbage can between the wall and the door. She goes back to the mirror and takes her shirt off to expose bruises on her ribs and back. The cause of the sadness is very apparent now. I feel I have no right to be here. She starts whispers to herself. “I wish you were here, Mom. I can’t do this alone anymore.” Her body shudders from the tears and she falls slowly to the floor and hugs her knees. “I miss your touch.” She closes her eyes and lets the tears come.

            I gather up into a human form still unseen and sit next to her. “He hurts me, Mom.” Vee looks up and talks more, “My body hurts so badly and I’m afraid to tell anyone. He looks at me like he wants me to die. I try to be strong like you and I just don’t have the strength anymore.”

            Vee is falling apart in front of me and I realize what Mrs. Ormsby is talking about now. So, I turn to face her and lift my palms in her direction to face her. Through my veins I feel the warmth come and I send her a healing touch as I like to call it. I watch her muscles relax and her face seems to show relief. You’re not alone, Vee. Believe me, you’re not alone.   

           

HOW...to write about what you wish to say.

I don't express my feelings very easily. I will stutter over my words and I will get frustrated. I do know that the three easiest words for me lately have been "I love you." Never thought I would ever truly use those words and really mean them from the deepest part of my soul as I do now. My soul aches for this person when he isn't near and skin gets chills when he kisses my neck. He creates a stir in me that I'm gradually learning to accept as real love. AND I'M ENJOYING EVERY SINGLE MINUTE OF IT.
So, with that said here is the easiest way for me to write my true feelings....because sometimes the easiest three little words are just not enough.

What’s a love letter?

I guess it goes a little like this….

            Dear love,

            I am here for you,

            I breathe you,

            I laugh with you,

                        and smile because of you.

            I smile at the sound of your name

                        next to mine.

            I wish on stars

                        that cross the sky in bright maps.

            I write

                        because you create a flutter inside my

                                    soul like miniature butterflies.

            I dream of you

                        when the world goes black and silent.

            I dance with you,

 step by step.

            I am here for you,

            I breathe you,

            I love you.

                        Forever yours, eternally.

                       

When you write about unhappy memories....

Like I've said before, I write what I know. Yeah, it's not always pleasant-it doesn't make you all "warm and fuzzy inside." Sometimes your own voice needs to be heard. Well, sometimes you just need to write to heal-and that's what I do.
*I've experienced sexual abuse as a child, by family, and I will forever be changed.*

ABUSE PART 1

Clammy feet stick to the floor
one
     by
         one
he creeps through the night.

Eyelids flutter in her dream state and
she
     awakens
                 to
the sound of bare feet treading heavy.

Sweaty palms caress the door knob,
he
   licks
          his
lips in need of her-his forbidden temptation.

She sits up slowly in her bed,
folds
      her
           knees
to her chest in fear-her incessant nightmare.


ABUSE PART 2

I create lists-
black, brown, purple, yellow.
That's what bruises
look like-in stages.
He presses his fingers into
my skin,
as I beg him to stop,
through sobs and scratches.
His frantic fingers dig harder
and harder into me.
That's when I go numb
                                  and lose myself.

Write so people will listen....

There are so many things going on in our world today. Why not write what you know and write with purpose? I have an enormous respect for children and those that are less fortunate than I. I only hope this poem creates a stir in you and you take up arms to be that voice for someone other than yourself.

 Kaleidoscope

Frail, pixie-like

            and born to dream

                        and dance.

            Confined

to her mechanical bed

            at Saint Jude

                        still smiling sweetly.

The rope

            burns

                        as he makes

                                    a decision

                                                to end the taunting.

The sign

            hammered into

                        the soft earth

            after a soggy Kentucky rain.

                        Another family

                                    and their emptied

                                                American dream

                                    turns into

                        a cramped home

            made by Ford.

Handcuffs press into her

            swollen wrists

                        sitting, chin buried

                                    in her chest

                                                a second offense.

                                    Her baby

                        at home with

            daddy, who bruises.

                        She only needed an escape

            from the unemployment line

and the boy who said

            I Love You, but lied

                        and only left purple on her skin

                                    and made her baby cry.

Another night,

            alcohol brushing the back

                        of his throat

                                    drowning in the

                                                memory of her

                                                            and the way she

                                                                        smiled

                                                                        before

                                                                        her body

                                                                        sank  

                                                                        further

                                                                        into the

                                                                        ground         

                                                                                    and people

                                                                                                walked

                                                                                                            away, already forgetting.

Humanity still feels,

BUT

is afraid

            to stand up for children,

                        is judgmental

                                    of criminals society has created.

                                    Humanity still feels,

                                    BUT

                                                it’s time to give

                                                            each life a voice.                                        

HOW to write what you feel....and mean it.

The best part of writing is knowing your own heart. You don't have to know the hearts of others. You only need to be sure of your own. I've made mistakes like anyone else. (Especially in relationships.) All I know is, if you give up hope that there is someone out there perfect for you....I pity you. Never give up hope and NEVER EVER settle for less than you deserve. Here is my latest poem.

You Move

I feel my soul

move-

creating flames

by the touch of

your hands-

sighing with

every sweet word

you breathe-

every new moment

is cherished and stored

in my memory-

a library of books

with fresh pages

telling a new story-

the story about how

you moved my very existence.