Sunday, September 25, 2011

One breath, just a moment of space in between

A merlin catching a woodpecker, a diving poetic frenzy of want and fear and need.

Today, I found a blog destined to be a new favorite: Ever since I wrote a fourth grade report on red tailed hawks, I've been a raptor-phile. I went to raptor camp in middle school. I point out falcons and hawks on power lines. I've even been known to get lost in forty-minute long conversations with ornithologists. Through images and expertise packaged with excellent writing skills, Birdchick's enthusiastic blog rekindles my passion for birds.

Having the moments to read blogs almost feels like flying, these days. Things will probably be this busy for a long, long time (though, to be honest, I wouldn't really have it any other way).

(If you're having trouble with that link, here's the address:

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Something Short: escape into fiction

If you're in the mood for a short story or two, check this site out.

My submissions are in. (Phew!) The first one is called "Lured" and is about that itch to escape for a while, the cycle of hope and despair. "Beginner's Luck" is the other story, and, well, it's a little grittier. What's funny is that there really was a crazy man on a London train, who ate hot dogs out of his lint-y pockets and spouted filth and spat at children. But the real crazy man was much scarier and more disturbing than the fiction he inspired.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

"Morning Cwtch"

I peel the sheets off,
like seaweed and orange rinds,
and come to a hollow
where silence churns
flashing sunlight
bold colors,
a wind spinner.

At the end of my fingertips
and far, far away
the opal mountains
of your flesh begin.

I reach for them.
find creases.
follow them,
these rivers &
I pass the borders,
marvel at their
carved perfection
and wonder where they lead
and whether I should follow.

Instinctually, I wander
farther than I meant to go
and find
a measure of
the unexplained,
untrodden terrain
and firefly candles
on a warm scented night.


Much thanks to my incredible partner for the inspiration. <3 BTW, this is my fifth entry for the West Coast Eisteddfod poetry competition; the deadline's tomorrow!

The link thingy is broken again, so here's the Website:

Monday, September 12, 2011

"Neither cruel nor prophetic"

Whew! Thank god writing's as much part of me as my fingernails or teeth contours, otherwise I definitely wouldn't be getting to it. Anyway, here's my fourth submission to Americymru's West Coast Eisteddfod's poetry contest. The formatting on my poem is much better over there, so go check it out!

A pharmacy dragged me here,
Here, this shabby restaurant
with grimy teacups
and gnarled fingers.
Numb customers, staring into
the hardness of the world,
gray as the sky,
dirt-lined as
the plates before them,
tasteless as the food,
distant as the beaches the guidebooks promised.

There is an unadulterated moment
the cook sneezes in the soup.

Neither cruel nor prophetic,
a blemished fate of fortuitous seconds.

Still, unmindful,
I settle.


This poem means so much to me. It is a true story, or as true as any story can be, about a little cafe outside the Swansea train station. I loved the place, for all its desperation, and those moments still stir in me, somewhere. ... I'll be submitting a short story to the WCE's short story contest that's also a variation of this theme.

If you're interested in submitting, the deadline's Thursday, 15 September. Cheers!