… so quietly that you don’t even realize it. There was no alarm. No bell. Not even a ringing in your ears. Nothing lets you know that the moment that just got by you was the one that you should have reached for and held onto. That it won’t come back again, even if you beg. That you are left in a permanent state of watching her walk away.
That’s okay, you tell yourself. There will be another one.
You silently hope. You wish it to be true. You hope that life will be kind and you will keep on getting chances just like the one that kissed your cheek, then turned away.
The truth is, we never know, do we?
I am blessed by this community and by the gifts you share of yourself every day. Coming here always makes me smile, and I know I’m not the only one that feels that way.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Just took a peek at the stats, and while this is something I usually never do, it feels like a milestone and I thought I would share it with you.
Happy 50,000+ visitors to 20 Lines. I thought I’d let you know.
This morning I am very sad to have to tell you that our dear friend and contributor weedlewom has left this life last week following a sudden illness and hospital stay.
Part of me didn’t want to believe it, I think, so I am a few days late with this news.
I was very lucky to know Susan in my own community here in North Carolina, as last August I’d joined her writers’ critique group that met once a month. I will tell you that she was as gentle and magical a soul as you find her voice to be in her poetry.
I didn’t know her nearly well enough, but I hold each memory dear. Rest in deepest peace, poet.
Whew. I’m going round and round with this poem, with its direction, with things I want to add and then later decide they don’t work. Is this happening for anyone else?
This is where the poem opens after some refining:
After love, and you sleep. I am formed to your back
broad and pale, the way lake embraces the reflection of the moon.
… though I am not entirely happy with this. I am trying to form the words and to his back to meet the image head on, with (as Maggie will tell you) an economy of language, which is typically my style. (In fact, Maggs, I have been trying to put more of myself into this poem and say more, rather than less, but we’ll see how that goes. — m.)
So if anyone thinks this reads oddly, please speak up, because my instincts are telling me that it reads like “broad and pale” are not precise enough when they move to the next line after a double break. And while I will, at times, deliberately leave lines, images, moments in a poem open to interpretation, this opening image I want clear as a bell.
Thoughts/feedback/comments welcome.
And I hope you are enjoying spending the month with a poem as much as I am.
I have lost a child, a teen with his life and future ahead of him.
It broke me-my body, soul and spirit.
And then there was you-mom.
When my son, I lost what I dreamed of,
With you, I lost the chance to really know you.
You were private, you kept things to yourself.
You had just began to tell me the things
that made you who you were-
I keep thinking that if you had told me, sooner,
it would have saved me so much pain.
Never-I loathe that word. Never again.
Today I put flowers on two graves -yours and his.
I am sickened by what my life has become.
It has never been as I dreamed,
And often been nearly unbearable.
It seems others take loss and go on with life.
I don’t understand it and never will.
How can others go on with what made life a joy?
When I am forced to exist without what made me live at all.
2012 was a year of cliff diving for me. Not literal cliffs, not yet, but metaphorical ones, in the form of one life change after another. Over the last five years, I have been life-building, I guess you could call it, and 2012 was a culmination of events and leaps of faith that had I not have the amazing people in my life that are there, maybe never would have done.
And I started this blog.
You all have touched my life in ways you might never know — but hopefully I have told you, at least at some point, whether we shared a conversation in e-mail, or in comments on a post … This place has become a village in my heart, and that is because of you all, because of your contribution and presence here, because of the fact that your art and words and language and dreams and the things you see and think to share with us all live here, too.
I appreciate every one of you.
I haven’t been writing much lately — there is a new job beginning and the attendant responsibilities, and I am still working up the nerve for higher cliffs, mind you. Growth requires us to keep setting higher goals.
I hope the New Year has started off peacefully and with love touching your life. 2013 promises to be a beautiful year full of challenges and goals, successes and obstacles to overcome. Work hard. Write. Share yourself with us. Be nurtured here in whatever ways soothe your inner artist and inspire you to create.
And as ever, thank you.
Warmest wishes to each of you, contributors, authors, friends, and readers alike,
whether you come every day or stop by when life grants you brief respite.
I would just like to wish all my fellow authors/contributors and readers here at 20 lines a day, a very Happy New Year!
I know I haven’t been posting much lately but what can I do?- it seems to me as if I am losing my poetic voice… Leave that aside, you can still find me sharing bits of my life at my home blog.
I joined this wonderful community of writers/poets/artists/photographers in the year 2012 and I find great pleasure in telling you all that that was the best thing I did in the whole year.
Even though Thanksgiving is now a memory, I am still thankful for the turkeys that gave of themselves so that my family and I could have a superb meal. It wouldn't be a holiday without them!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jamie Nowinski – Grandmother Wisdom/Grandmother Musings with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
It’s Sunday and I am home again, home again, after a wonderful holiday shared with family and friends in Pennsylvania. I am so blessed and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t realize it and send up a “thank you.”
There is so much to be done and the holidays are upon us! I have received winter photographs from Eunice and submissions from several new writers that I cannot wait to share with you all. There are new biographies to post on the contributors’ page. I have articles to write. And poems in my head. So I am home this afternoon and working away.
New challenges lie ahead. New ideas. Growth. Don’t forget to keep changing and stretching yourself. Never hesitate to reach out to me with questions, ideas, and comments. Use our Facebook page to connect to each other and further share your work, as well as other ideas you may have. Make 20 Lines a second home. Or a first one, if you like.
And from both Alex and Eunice, we have been awarded the 2012 Blogger of the Year Award, and I did accept the awards on behalf of all of you, who warm and inspire me with your courage, your effort, your talent. Thank you, Alex and Eunice. I will attempt to do honor to this award faithfully. And thank you, to each contributor and reader. You are the breathers of life into this space.
Keep going. Keep writing. Keep looking for that next photograph that will touch us all.
I just love the Weekly Photo Challenge from The Daily Post @ WordPress.com. I look forward to the new challenge when it is posted on Friday. This week the challenge is GREEN! My interpretation comes from a trip I shared with my husband to Niagara Falls. The breathtaking views of the falls from Niagara Falls State Park
I used to think that the metaphors and ideas in my head were merely ways I entertained myself. That the imagery and games I played with words were child-like ways I had of viewing the world.
And maybe they are. Maybe all I am doing is spinning wheels and creating horses out of thin air and so much sand.
But maybe … maybe there is another reason. For those of us that write poetry or, for that matter, create any kind of art … Maybe we are supposed to write or create and make havoc and merry. Maybe we are supposed to create something out of nothing. Beauty out of pain.
Maybe through art we find our shared experience, our sense of community, a common bond. I think of this community and I am awed by the fact that we wrap ourselves around the globe, yet so many of your offerings resonate, or teach.
Someone told me I was a poet, finally. He’d read enough of my writing and train of thought and he looked at me and said it as if it was as plain as the nose on my face. And once my beloved Poet told me that I was a poet, I felt something click inside. A piece of the puzzle locked into place. Or the world unhinged and swung open. Or both.
I believed him. I believed him, embraced it, take it seriously and I am all in. I am committed to the work of becoming a better writer, a stronger writer, to write bravely when I feel afraid. I am equally committed to lifting other writers, other artists, to give them a voice and a space to work on their craft.
I haven’t been writing lately like I should, and the reasons why are many and as varied as flavors of ice cream, or shades of blue. But knowing you are here inspires me. I see the magnitude of your work, this outpouring of time, effort, energy and creativity that is rich and vast and interesting and unexpected.
This place, and each of you, make me happy. You delight me. You feel like family and neighbors. I am always glad to see each and every one of you.
I hope you find nourishment here, too.
I believe in saying thank you but perhaps I do not say it often enough.
Over here in America it is the season of thankfulness, a gentle time to let the people in our lives let them know how much we appreciate them.
So thank you, contributors, followers, and readers, from the bottom of my heart. I am thankful for you all.
A very old apple tree near a 142 year old, vacant farm house. Large, red, apples past their prime. I am not sure about the variety of apple, but typically these are not the types found laying about…usually Crabapples.
I thought I would try my hand at this game, using the theme of Veteran’s Day to invent new words to honor all the men and woman who have served our country. Here are a few words I have created …
