I did read the final fifty pages of The Fires of Alexandria. It did answer the central questions of the book while leaving room for further stories. The central character, Ada/Heron, is engaging. Go for it!
I read a second book this week, Breeders, another first book that felt like the first one or two episodes of a TV show, but nonetheless one that pulled me to read it in one book. (only 100 pages). Sci fi future thriller, where the heroine has been chosen as the "breeder" of a specific gene. She even loses her name, and becomes "Breeder 107." A take on genetic engineering.
Now I'm reading Felix Francis's continuation of his father's one continuing character, Sid Halley. So far his books haven't quite lived up to his father's standards (Dick Francis is probably my all-time favorite author). But, any Sid Halley story is bound to be good.
I'm up to 41% on An Apple for Christmas and 63% on Runaway Love. Slowly but surely.
Friday, August 8, 2014
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
POETRY ZONE (July 30 - August 5, 2014)
The Granada Camp for Wayward Poets has officially ended.
Here is my final camp poem. The assignments was a "three-legged race," three stanzas long, where the final words of one stanza are the first words of the next. My words took inspiration from Tolkien and The Old Rugged Cross.
On a hill faraway
He was nailed to our cross
Please forgive, his prayer
In His death, our sin lost
One King will rule us all
Your wide nets cast for naught
Till in sin’s sea I drown
Long He sings to find us
Prayers for souls carry weight
Sowing seeds I will weep
Unseen wings bring us all
To His home eternal
Now we are writing on our usual schedule, and this is my poem describing my muse:
Coal-dark eyes lasered my memories
Rearranging slices of pain as art
Red spilled down her ebony arms
Her lifeblood filling my pen
Raven tresses wrapped around me
The cocoon a safe place to write and feel
Black cotton threads are now shiny silk
Her dress, a metallic sheen, robes her crooked back
Beauty and strength shine from her shrunken form
Poetry drips from silver-tipped fingernails
Painting images formerly frozen as prose
Penny dreadful words now polished utensils
Finally, here is the poem I wrote about turning sixty.
First day, first year, so much to ken
By ten years old, so much amassed
The teens I changed from chick to hen
Plans set in stone, my future vast
At twenty-two, I hit first wall
My music studies caused to halt
By forty, perfect life proved lie
Divorce and illness made me search
My story world escape supplied
Secure while day by day I lurched
Half century my life span climbed
At last my books had found their time
But new life flourished in its quest
To place grandchildren in my palms
My prayer, the years ahead my best
My final words, a praise-filled psalm
Will I reach seventy or more?
Or spend that day on heaven’s shore?
Here is my final camp poem. The assignments was a "three-legged race," three stanzas long, where the final words of one stanza are the first words of the next. My words took inspiration from Tolkien and The Old Rugged Cross.
On a hill faraway
He was nailed to our cross
Please forgive, his prayer
In His death, our sin lost
One King will rule us all
Rule us all? I
think not
I refuse to bow
downYour wide nets cast for naught
Till in sin’s sea I drown
Long He sings to find us
Find us? While He
waits
Ripened fields I
will reap Prayers for souls carry weight
Sowing seeds I will weep
Unseen wings bring us all
To His home eternal
Now we are writing on our usual schedule, and this is my poem describing my muse:
COCOON
Once upon a time my muse was black
Her brand’s harsh heat marked me hersCoal-dark eyes lasered my memories
Rearranging slices of pain as art
Red spilled down her ebony arms
Her lifeblood filling my pen
Raven tresses wrapped around me
The cocoon a safe place to write and feel
I emerge from my cocoon to find my muse has changed
My golden years have turned to silver Black cotton threads are now shiny silk
Her dress, a metallic sheen, robes her crooked back
Beauty and strength shine from her shrunken form
Poetry drips from silver-tipped fingernails
Painting images formerly frozen as prose
Penny dreadful words now polished utensils
Finally, here is the poem I wrote about turning sixty.
One life, divided by six tens
Each decade shorter than the lastFirst day, first year, so much to ken
By ten years old, so much amassed
The teens I changed from chick to hen
Plans set in stone, my future vast
At twenty-two, I hit first wall
My music studies caused to halt
But thirty found me satisfied
A husband, children, and a churchBy forty, perfect life proved lie
Divorce and illness made me search
My story world escape supplied
Secure while day by day I lurched
Half century my life span climbed
At last my books had found their time
The last ten years have brought more tests
My daughter died, and then my MomBut new life flourished in its quest
To place grandchildren in my palms
My prayer, the years ahead my best
My final words, a praise-filled psalm
Will I reach seventy or more?
Or spend that day on heaven’s shore?
Friday, August 1, 2014
READING AND WRITING (July 25-31, 2014)
Good, steady progress this week. Phew, wipe my forehead with relief. I figured out that I didn't need to write quite so much every day to meet my goals. What a relief!
So, I have reached the 55% of Runaway Love and 26% of An Apple for Christmas.
A piece featuring my story is going to appear in the local paper soon. I'll publish a link when I have one (if it's online), but until then, here are the pic from the interview:
I have almost finished Fires of Alexandria, and find it as complex and compelling as from the beginning. Now I see it's the first of three books. I hope this isn't one of those books that leave important questions unanswered at the end! I'll let you know next week.
So, I have reached the 55% of Runaway Love and 26% of An Apple for Christmas.
A piece featuring my story is going to appear in the local paper soon. I'll publish a link when I have one (if it's online), but until then, here are the pic from the interview:
I have almost finished Fires of Alexandria, and find it as complex and compelling as from the beginning. Now I see it's the first of three books. I hope this isn't one of those books that leave important questions unanswered at the end! I'll let you know next week.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
POETRY ZONE (July 23-29, 2014)
This week I jumped back into the month-long poetry camp.
This first poem was inspired by a 3-legged race, where each stanza began with the end of the previous stanza. I named it "A La Tolkien." Tell me if you can guess why.
Please forgive, his prayer
In His death, our sin lost
One King will rule us all
Your wide nets cast for naught
Till in sin’s sea I drown
Long He sings to find us
Prayers for souls carry weight
Sowing seeds I will weep
Unseen wings bring us all
To His home eternal
The next poem was written for "At Your Service," when the campers visited a nursing home. I wrote about the differences I have noticed between adults and children who come to visit.
The nature place is much more nice
Preserve the beauty of the glade
They need us, Pastor Bob’s word swayed
Two lines from cabins one to four
Marched northward to the rest home’s door
We hid behind the kids and squirmed
The mobile patients gathered round
The childish voices siren’s sound
A pat, a hug, a kiss or two
The young and old together grew
The games of childhood both thought best
Their laughs and smiles, no one condemned
Examples we should craft as gems
Our heads hung, the blow our shame
A lesson learned, our fears so lame
This last poem is not for the "camp," but a form called bokkektto. It's a syllable-based poem, written about what I saw straight ahead of me.
Hers the latch hook, mine the books
Two beds, two clocks
Twelve pictures between
Unity
This first poem was inspired by a 3-legged race, where each stanza began with the end of the previous stanza. I named it "A La Tolkien." Tell me if you can guess why.
On a hill faraway
He was nailed to
our crossPlease forgive, his prayer
In His death, our sin lost
One King will rule us all
Rule us all? I
think not
I refuse to bow
downYour wide nets cast for naught
Till in sin’s sea I drown
Long He sings to find us
Find us? While He
waits
Ripened fields I
will reap Prayers for souls carry weight
Sowing seeds I will weep
Unseen wings bring us all
To His home eternal
The next poem was written for "At Your Service," when the campers visited a nursing home. I wrote about the differences I have noticed between adults and children who come to visit.
FROM THE CHILDREN
Don’t go, our
personal advice
The children will
pull back, afraidThe nature place is much more nice
Preserve the beauty of the glade
They need us, Pastor Bob’s word swayed
Two lines from cabins one to four
Marched northward to the rest home’s door
One step inside
our fears confirmed
The smell! The
noise! The wheelchair boundWe hid behind the kids and squirmed
The mobile patients gathered round
The childish voices siren’s sound
A pat, a hug, a kiss or two
The young and old together grew
Their hearts saw
past the li-ned flesh
Into a person,
same as themThe games of childhood both thought best
Their laughs and smiles, no one condemned
Examples we should craft as gems
Our heads hung, the blow our shame
A lesson learned, our fears so lame
This last poem is not for the "camp," but a form called bokkektto. It's a syllable-based poem, written about what I saw straight ahead of me.
ROOMMATES
Side by side, TVs divide
Our room in half, hers and mineHers the latch hook, mine the books
Two beds, two clocks
Twelve pictures between
Complaints in common—the food
Laugh together, ads and aidesUnity
Monday, July 28, 2014
LOOKING BACK. . .
Next Sunday is my birthday. I will celebrate, with so much has happened and that I hope to happen.
For this week, I will look back.
On my birthday, I said:
There is a sign in the nursing home that reads, "A hundred years from now, it won't matter what kind of car I drove or where I lived, but the difference I made in other peoples' lives." Mentally I add to the list, "how many books I wrote."
This year I read a quote that helped me put my short time, and whatever success I have in my remaining years, in focus. It said something to the effect of, "Don't worry about the hundred people who read your books today, or even the ten people who will read them in ten years. Write for the one person who will read them a 100 years from now."
I have never expected someone to read my books in a hundred year. My goal has never been to write the great American novel, that will become required reading in classrooms. But. . .they are lasting. My first book came out nine years ago; it was repacked with the two follow up books this summer,
Colorado Melodies. Romanian Rhapsody came from my heart and while now somewhat outdated, it touches all who read it.
I also said:
My birthday greetings from relative strangers called me dear, sweet, precious, beautiful.
For this week, I will look back.
On my birthday, I said:
There is a sign in the nursing home that reads, "A hundred years from now, it won't matter what kind of car I drove or where I lived, but the difference I made in other peoples' lives." Mentally I add to the list, "how many books I wrote."
This year I read a quote that helped me put my short time, and whatever success I have in my remaining years, in focus. It said something to the effect of, "Don't worry about the hundred people who read your books today, or even the ten people who will read them in ten years. Write for the one person who will read them a 100 years from now."I have never expected someone to read my books in a hundred year. My goal has never been to write the great American novel, that will become required reading in classrooms. But. . .they are lasting. My first book came out nine years ago; it was repacked with the two follow up books this summer,
Colorado Melodies. Romanian Rhapsody came from my heart and while now somewhat outdated, it touches all who read it.
I also said:
My birthday greetings from relative strangers called me dear, sweet, precious, beautiful.
This week, I posted a picture, asking people to describe me in one word. People said:
- Overcomer
- special
- diligent
- awesome
- writer
- steadfast
- hard working
- tolerant
- perseverant
- talented
- friend
- talented
- saved
I ended my thinking with:
But this one thing I know: God has me here, at this time and in this place, for a reason. If that reason includes daily pain and sleeplessness--so it does. He will comfort and speak to me in the pain, and He will use it to help others as well.
Daily pain? Pretty much, but not bad (except for bad knee pain this week, but that will pass). Sleeplessness, praise God, is pretty much a thing of the past.
And God has used me to touch others, close friends with a resident many consider irritating, an older sister to a troubled resident, a listening ear to someone who shuts herself away from most people. I have been here, for a reason.
Next week I will look more at the future--what it looks like at this point in time.
Friday, July 25, 2014
READING AND WRITING (July 18-24, 2014)
 |
| Christmas Traditions Series |
Progress at last! I have reached the 20% mark on my Christmas novella, An Apple for Christmas; and I am almost at the halfway point (49%) for Runaway Love. Woo hoo! The picture above is the entire collection including my book. See my single cover here:
I am busy reading The Fires of Alexandria by Thomas Carpenter. So far, it's a fascinating story of a woman passing a man to pursue the craft of a sculptor, an educated "Barbarian," and the mystery of the fire which destroyed the great library of Alexandria.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
POETRY ZONE (July 16-22, 2014)
Of the poems I wrote for the Camp challenge this week, I'm sharing the two that tell a story about me.
One of the lakes mentioned in the poem below is the place where our best friends from church lived, and where I was baptized.
Of long, hot days at lakes upon a string
Cobboseecontee, Carlton, naming two
But most of all, their cooks compete to wring
The last, sweet taste of fish fixed in a stew
The lakes take part, but poor Maranacook
Must always lose to Annabessacook.
When we were challenged to write about camp food, I thought about the times Mom packed up the grill--and my growing admiration for all she did for me.
At campgrounds at both streams and lakes
She lit the fires that made my days
For flames to flare and sizzling meat
Add icy pop, s’mores that can’t be beat
~I never bought a grill or coals~
One camping trip with Dad and kids
Made future tries ones I forbid
Marshmallows brown on gas stove top
Hot dogs burn black in the right pot.
I don’t cook out—inside’s my thing
But where indoors can children swing?
One of the lakes mentioned in the poem below is the place where our best friends from church lived, and where I was baptized.
WINTHROP’S JOKE
The town of
Winthrop, Maine boasts many things
Activities for all
the whole year throughOf long, hot days at lakes upon a string
Cobboseecontee, Carlton, naming two
But most of all, their cooks compete to wring
The last, sweet taste of fish fixed in a stew
The lakes take part, but poor Maranacook
Must always lose to Annabessacook.
When we were challenged to write about camp food, I thought about the times Mom packed up the grill--and my growing admiration for all she did for me.
MOM AND ME
My mom would pack
up grill and coals
And take us a
site untoldAt campgrounds at both streams and lakes
She lit the fires that made my days
For flames to flare and sizzling meat
Add icy pop, s’mores that can’t be beat
~I never bought a grill or coals~
One camping trip with Dad and kids
Made future tries ones I forbid
Marshmallows brown on gas stove top
Hot dogs burn black in the right pot.
I don’t cook out—inside’s my thing
But where indoors can children swing?
Monday, July 21, 2014
PEOPLE WHO NEED PEOPLE
This week, like several times before in this place, God has reminded me of the importance of taking time with the people who cross my path.
My dinner table, where I had finally become comfortable with my assorted companions, has changed. By the time I arrive, it is normally full. I miss my companions. Miss W. often sleeps and rarely talks; but she is given to a hearty laugh and speaks with clear understanding when she does speak. Miss P. repeats the same questions every day, several times each day, and is the most difficult to communicate with; but she loves company. Miss V. has become a close friend. Her abrasive manner and unpleasant voice drive many people away, and repeats her life story many times. Over the months. we have gotten past the surface to the pain we have shared--and the love God has for both of us.
A couple of days ago, Miss V. demanded a hug the next time we saw each other. So, yesterday, I hugged her. Miss P. asked why I didn't hug her. So I hugged her as well. Then Miss V. wanted another hug, because I had given Miss P. a better hug. . .shades of "mother, do you love me best?"
But as I've said, lately I've had to take a seat elsewhere. If I can, I choose to sit with people who enjoy a conversation. Miss P. (different than the one I mentioned above) lady sits alone at a back table. Sometimes, when I have tried to sit there, she has growled at me. Other times, we've had a pleasant conversation. So recently I told her I try to guess if she wants company or not before I join her.
She seemed so surprised--and very open to me joining her. "You can sit with me any time you want." Shades of Miss V., desperate for friendship while her armor shouts "don't come near me."
Today I sat with Miss D. While not suffering from Downs Syndrome, she has the same affect of someone who is lacking in intelligence but who says "I love you" to almost total strangers. But I will comment on her new dresses, or the stuffed animals and dolls she carries with her, or ask after her health. Today she told me a little of her sad story. (Several of us here come from very painful childhoods.) When I left, she said, "please don't tell this to anyone else. You're like my big sister." Tears glistening in her eyes.
The other day I tried to come down to my room after lunch. Two people stopped me on the way. I don't remember the question the first one had. The second was man, almost a century old, wanting to know where room 5 was. We found it, but I pointed out it wasn't his room. So I took him to his room--14--and he said, "four and one make five." I had to laugh at his logic.
My point is, the people here have become my family. I have made a difference in a small pond. If I leave--as seems more and more likely--I know myself. I have a tendency to hide away from people. I have always hoarded my time, and God prods me to give more generously of myself. I am gifted with people (I think) but I fight it.
Kind of like writing. Huh. Never thought of it that way.
So pray that I will remain and increase in openness to people in need of a friend.
My dinner table, where I had finally become comfortable with my assorted companions, has changed. By the time I arrive, it is normally full. I miss my companions. Miss W. often sleeps and rarely talks; but she is given to a hearty laugh and speaks with clear understanding when she does speak. Miss P. repeats the same questions every day, several times each day, and is the most difficult to communicate with; but she loves company. Miss V. has become a close friend. Her abrasive manner and unpleasant voice drive many people away, and repeats her life story many times. Over the months. we have gotten past the surface to the pain we have shared--and the love God has for both of us.
A couple of days ago, Miss V. demanded a hug the next time we saw each other. So, yesterday, I hugged her. Miss P. asked why I didn't hug her. So I hugged her as well. Then Miss V. wanted another hug, because I had given Miss P. a better hug. . .shades of "mother, do you love me best?"
But as I've said, lately I've had to take a seat elsewhere. If I can, I choose to sit with people who enjoy a conversation. Miss P. (different than the one I mentioned above) lady sits alone at a back table. Sometimes, when I have tried to sit there, she has growled at me. Other times, we've had a pleasant conversation. So recently I told her I try to guess if she wants company or not before I join her.
She seemed so surprised--and very open to me joining her. "You can sit with me any time you want." Shades of Miss V., desperate for friendship while her armor shouts "don't come near me."
Today I sat with Miss D. While not suffering from Downs Syndrome, she has the same affect of someone who is lacking in intelligence but who says "I love you" to almost total strangers. But I will comment on her new dresses, or the stuffed animals and dolls she carries with her, or ask after her health. Today she told me a little of her sad story. (Several of us here come from very painful childhoods.) When I left, she said, "please don't tell this to anyone else. You're like my big sister." Tears glistening in her eyes.
The other day I tried to come down to my room after lunch. Two people stopped me on the way. I don't remember the question the first one had. The second was man, almost a century old, wanting to know where room 5 was. We found it, but I pointed out it wasn't his room. So I took him to his room--14--and he said, "four and one make five." I had to laugh at his logic.
My point is, the people here have become my family. I have made a difference in a small pond. If I leave--as seems more and more likely--I know myself. I have a tendency to hide away from people. I have always hoarded my time, and God prods me to give more generously of myself. I am gifted with people (I think) but I fight it.
Kind of like writing. Huh. Never thought of it that way.
So pray that I will remain and increase in openness to people in need of a friend.
Friday, July 18, 2014
READING AND WRITING
The good news: I started again on Runaway Love. The bad news: I seem to have lost 5-6K words somewhere, which I've had to recover. Oh, well, I have time!
More good news! I received copies of my two new books this week. Saving Felicity is book #7 set in Maple Notch, Vermont, a contemporary romance between the owner of a failing B&B and the TV personality who comes to save her business. Colorado Melodies includes three contemporary romances with ties to Colorado (and common characters), including my first-ever book, Romanian Rhapsody.
A
As far as reading goes--I've started two books (about 50 pages), Anvil of the Craftsman and Yesterday's Road. Both were okay--but I've decided to set them aside. I've got over 80 books in the queue (mostly free), so why waste weeks on mediocre books? Shows the importance of a good start to a book.
More good news! I received copies of my two new books this week. Saving Felicity is book #7 set in Maple Notch, Vermont, a contemporary romance between the owner of a failing B&B and the TV personality who comes to save her business. Colorado Melodies includes three contemporary romances with ties to Colorado (and common characters), including my first-ever book, Romanian Rhapsody.
A
As far as reading goes--I've started two books (about 50 pages), Anvil of the Craftsman and Yesterday's Road. Both were okay--but I've decided to set them aside. I've got over 80 books in the queue (mostly free), so why waste weeks on mediocre books? Shows the importance of a good start to a book.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
POETRY ZONE
I'm still involved in the poem-a-day challenge, but I'll share a couple of favorites from the week.
I camp by cool waters, soft grass my bed
I follow His map, my Lord, the Shepherd
My natural cravings destroy my life
He remakes my heart, my Lord, the Shepherd
I walk through life’s darkest hours
While He holds my hand, my Lord, the Shepherd
Enemies attack and friends fall away
I wine and dine with my Lord, the Shepherd
Today and always, we walk hand in hand
My home’s in His land, my Lord, the Shepherd
Step by step and day by day He leads me
He’s Yahweh Shamah, my Lord, the Shepherd
THE GOOD SHEPHERD
Worried and broke,
unable to provide
My needs are met
by my Lord, the ShepherdI camp by cool waters, soft grass my bed
I follow His map, my Lord, the Shepherd
My natural cravings destroy my life
He remakes my heart, my Lord, the Shepherd
I walk through life’s darkest hours
While He holds my hand, my Lord, the Shepherd
Enemies attack and friends fall away
I wine and dine with my Lord, the Shepherd
Today and always, we walk hand in hand
My home’s in His land, my Lord, the Shepherd
Step by step and day by day He leads me
He’s Yahweh Shamah, my Lord, the Shepherd
TREPIDATION
Leafy
Barky
Mossy
Scary
Trail map left out
leafy, barky log
Taking us through
mossy, scary bog
Monday, July 14, 2014
HAPPY SMILES
My son just left with his wife and the two little ones. With Isaiah competing for my attention along with Jordan, my heart is delighted (they are borrowing two of my bears until their next visit) but the best part was climbing into the van and taking off to Braums!
So a short but happy post for the day. . .my heart is singing at the thought of leaving this place.
So a short but happy post for the day. . .my heart is singing at the thought of leaving this place.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
READING AND WRITING
Yes, Priceless Pearl is written, edited, and submitted! Hurrah!
I have even added 1K on Runaway Love. When I read through what I've written, relief, it's pretty good. I hope. So . . .
I'm even working on a possible Christmas novella. An Apple for Christmas
As for reading:
A Distant Melody by Sarah Sundin. Christian historical romance during WWII. A great book, one that I greatly enjoyed and heartily endorse. It even managed to give the nitty gritty of bombing raids without boring me to tears (I'm not big into battle scenes in general)
The Beam by Johnny B. Truant. Some kind of sci-fi/fantasy which I didn't enjoy at all. Unlike Gameland, the Zombie book which drew me in and made me want to read more.
Infinite Sacrifice by L.E. Waters features reincarnation. I don't believe in reincarnation, but I did enjoy the ongoing stories, through ancient Sparta, Vikings in Denmark, and plague-ridden London. But instead of wrapping up the character's journey at the end, the "guide" says how all religions lead to the same God and how her journey is continuing on to the next life. . .a decent story ruined by an unsatisfactory ending.
I have even added 1K on Runaway Love. When I read through what I've written, relief, it's pretty good. I hope. So . . .
I'm even working on a possible Christmas novella. An Apple for Christmas
As for reading:
A Distant Melody by Sarah Sundin. Christian historical romance during WWII. A great book, one that I greatly enjoyed and heartily endorse. It even managed to give the nitty gritty of bombing raids without boring me to tears (I'm not big into battle scenes in general)
The Beam by Johnny B. Truant. Some kind of sci-fi/fantasy which I didn't enjoy at all. Unlike Gameland, the Zombie book which drew me in and made me want to read more.
Infinite Sacrifice by L.E. Waters features reincarnation. I don't believe in reincarnation, but I did enjoy the ongoing stories, through ancient Sparta, Vikings in Denmark, and plague-ridden London. But instead of wrapping up the character's journey at the end, the "guide" says how all religions lead to the same God and how her journey is continuing on to the next life. . .a decent story ruined by an unsatisfactory ending.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
POETRY ZONE
NEWS FLASH! For the first time, I have a poem published in a journal. Find "Confusion" at page 18 at https://prunejuice.files.wordpress.com/2014/07/july14-prune-juice-final-version3.pdf
At the moment I'm working on a Poem-a-Day challenge for July--which I won't share with you just now. Any non-PAD poems will come here. :)
A single dry rose is all that remains
The sight, the sound, the smell of you only
Tease me with the spree that awaits, no dream.
Sucking my breath with
Pollen-swollen floss
Sloughing off my skin in
Pursuit of summer sun
Cacophony of judgment
Stills the voice of my drum
Until a single word cracks
The dam, releasing fear
The pursuit of beauty squashes me,
Flattening, crushing, draining me
Till I die inside, leaving
Only a brittle outer shell
Darlene Franklin ©2014
Bag left unexplored
Whiskers quivering
Measure for green light
Head first, paws on springs
Legs hugging body
As snug as bird’s wings
Or face his claws in war
Backing out, his wish
demands more comfort
Legs first, not too squished
around him, tail swings
In box, cat is king
Do-it-yourself Dad
Questions the standard
PVC pipe and
Camouflage replace
Thinks outside the box
Creates something new
Casual truth, facts
Made from cardboard, pricked
And torn, thrown around
Easy to replace
Throw out inept box
Nothing contains God
At the moment I'm working on a Poem-a-Day challenge for July--which I won't share with you just now. Any non-PAD poems will come here. :)
TRUE LOVE
The heart of any marriage is true love
But divorce attests the lie of true
love.
Wedding rings symbolize promises made
Lest any threat trade the fake for true
love.
If a man search for meaning all his
days,
His quest is sure to fail short of true
love.
Darlene my darling, God’s lullaby,
Calls me the apple of His eye, true love.
DREAMLAND
Memories fade, unless she glides through dreams
A wisp of smoke, no warmer than a dream.
Grief sets its own timetable, yesteryear
Joins with today in the sphere of my dreams.
A stranger’s profile, a grandchild’s smile, both
Direct me through the aisles that store my dreams.
A meal with lemon pie and crisp hash browns
Sits me down at the table of my dreams
In heaven, to dance and play, forever
Alive, never glum, a realized dream. The sight, the sound, the smell of you only
Tease me with the spree that awaits, no dream.
Dearest Jolene, both too close and too far
At the bar with the mirror of my dreams.
PRICE OF BEAUTY
Beauty crowds me till I dieSucking my breath with
Pollen-swollen floss
Sloughing off my skin in
Pursuit of summer sun
Cacophony of judgment
Stills the voice of my drum
Until a single word cracks
The dam, releasing fear
The pursuit of beauty squashes me,
Flattening, crushing, draining me
Till I die inside, leaving
Only a brittle outer shell
Darlene Franklin ©2014
THE CAT IN THE BOX
Never a box a cat
Does not love, nor aBag left unexplored
Whiskers quivering
Measure for green light
Head first, paws on springs
Legs hugging body
As snug as bird’s wings
Dangling tail swishes
Warning to leave aloneOr face his claws in war
Backing out, his wish
demands more comfort
Legs first, not too squished
around him, tail swings
In box, cat is king
THROW OUT THE BOX
Hand-painted box fort
Felled by driving rainDo-it-yourself Dad
Questions the standard
PVC pipe and
Camouflage replace
Thinks outside the box
Creates something new
The Man Upstairs and
The Good Book both speakCasual truth, facts
Made from cardboard, pricked
And torn, thrown around
Easy to replace
Throw out inept box
Nothing contains God
Sunday, July 6, 2014
DREAMING BIG
I posted this in facebook a few days ago:
Don't worry about who reads your books today. Write for the one person who reads it a hundred years from now.--I heard that quote recently
Today God banged me over the head twice about trusting Him with my dreams. So--for reasons that have nothing to do with my skill or faith, but because of our awesome God--I am praying for God to expand my ministry through time and space in ways I cannot imagine.
It sparked a lot of comment so I thought I would expand on the subject.
The first mention was quoted in my prayer journal: Father God, please help me to accomplish Your dreams for my life.
About half an hour later, this appeared on the ACFW email loop: We live in a country where we are blessed to be able to pursue our dreams - and pursue them to the glory of God! Let us know how we can help. We are here for you! from Betsy St. Amant and Georgiana Daniels
So what are my dreams?
I asked myself that last year, starting down my 60th birthday (four weeks from yesterday, if you/re interested), and already living in a nursing home.
I felt more at peace--I thought perhaps God would open the door to writing about/for/advocating residents in centers such as this.
Not much has happened on that front. Instead, I got suckered into writing poetry. In February, I took a week off from writing fiction and got hooked. I've been encouraged to write more by having my poems chosen as "best of the week" four times already and also have a poem published in a literary journal for the first time.
So one dream is to write a "chapbook" of poetry with Jolene's poems and mine. . .
And my novels? I don't know. I'm still aiming for a 50-book mark, and hoping to self-publish more. I want to put together a devotional book to sell as an e-book. But no new, big dreams.
Another dream which I could never have envisioned a year ago--but which my physical therapist is aiming for--is living independently. Some form of assisted living, but in a private dwelling/apartment/however they work.
I basically laughed when she told me that. . .so many things I still can't do. . .but the reminder about dreams made me realize I have to believe it's possible. The day may come. . . not next month. . .but by next July? I may be out of here.
If anyone reads this. . .I would love to hear your dreams.
Don't worry about who reads your books today. Write for the one person who reads it a hundred years from now.--I heard that quote recently
Today God banged me over the head twice about trusting Him with my dreams. So--for reasons that have nothing to do with my skill or faith, but because of our awesome God--I am praying for God to expand my ministry through time and space in ways I cannot imagine.
It sparked a lot of comment so I thought I would expand on the subject.
The first mention was quoted in my prayer journal: Father God, please help me to accomplish Your dreams for my life.
About half an hour later, this appeared on the ACFW email loop: We live in a country where we are blessed to be able to pursue our dreams - and pursue them to the glory of God! Let us know how we can help. We are here for you! from Betsy St. Amant and Georgiana Daniels
So what are my dreams?
I asked myself that last year, starting down my 60th birthday (four weeks from yesterday, if you/re interested), and already living in a nursing home.
I felt more at peace--I thought perhaps God would open the door to writing about/for/advocating residents in centers such as this.
Not much has happened on that front. Instead, I got suckered into writing poetry. In February, I took a week off from writing fiction and got hooked. I've been encouraged to write more by having my poems chosen as "best of the week" four times already and also have a poem published in a literary journal for the first time.
So one dream is to write a "chapbook" of poetry with Jolene's poems and mine. . .
And my novels? I don't know. I'm still aiming for a 50-book mark, and hoping to self-publish more. I want to put together a devotional book to sell as an e-book. But no new, big dreams.
Another dream which I could never have envisioned a year ago--but which my physical therapist is aiming for--is living independently. Some form of assisted living, but in a private dwelling/apartment/however they work.
I basically laughed when she told me that. . .so many things I still can't do. . .but the reminder about dreams made me realize I have to believe it's possible. The day may come. . . not next month. . .but by next July? I may be out of here.
If anyone reads this. . .I would love to hear your dreams.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
VACATION
I am running into a time crunch with my next deadline. For that reason, I will stop writing in this blog until July.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
READING AND WRITING June 5-11, 2014
Another week with little reading--I am turning up the focus on my next book.
I have passed the halfway point of my novella, Priceless Pearl. Hurrah!
And I received the cover of my August release, Preacher Brides, which includes my story Miss Bliss and the Bear.
I have passed the halfway point of my novella, Priceless Pearl. Hurrah!
And I received the cover of my August release, Preacher Brides, which includes my story Miss Bliss and the Bear.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
POETRY ZONE JUNE 4-10, 2014
No blooms awarded this week, but encouragement from a multi-published poet to submit my poem Angel for publication. I also sent off my poem about "Please tell me I'm not a bad mother" to a possible compilation.
But here are my poems for the week.
The prompt was about lies--white lies like "How are you?" "Fine, thank you."
So this first poem is about which is: to lie or go along with a friend's delusion
The food dribbles down Angel’s chin.
“Look. She has two new teeth.”
Two perfectly shaped teeth
Peek over the bottom lip.
She knows I
know Angel is a doll.
She needs something to cherish
And protect and live for.
Living flesh or plastic doesn’t matter
Now others
bring their babies too
And she has changed her tune.
“I know Angel is a doll.”
She tucks the baby in a blanket.
“I’m not stupid.”
I’m such a bad mother—consider
His arrest, stomping my heart
Mental illness coiled ‘round
My girl, squeezing joy
‘Til she gave in
To despair
Bad, bad
Mom
Didn’t you hear?
Her heavenly song
He reads God’s word all day
I’m proud to claim him—surprise
He’s proud too. Mistakes? Too many
But in God’s rule, He rewrites the past
Darlene Franklin ©2014
Form: Quintella
Those few who answer the attack
Go to not from that scary clime
From all deserve respect sublime
A single whiff smells stormy night
Go, taste the drops before they gain
Ears hear the roll of thunder’s fright
But here are my poems for the week.
The prompt was about lies--white lies like "How are you?" "Fine, thank you."
So this first poem is about which is: to lie or go along with a friend's delusion
The Angel
She holds her
angel with newborn care
Feeding her
spoons of applesauce.The food dribbles down Angel’s chin.
“Look. She has two new teeth.”
Two perfectly shaped teeth
Peek over the bottom lip.
She needs something to cherish
And protect and live for.
Living flesh or plastic doesn’t matter
And she has changed her tune.
“I know Angel is a doll.”
She tucks the baby in a blanket.
“I’m not stupid.”
Only confused.
Darlene Franklin ©2014
Please Tell Me
I’m Not a Bad Mother
His arrest, stomping my heart
Mental illness coiled ‘round
My girl, squeezing joy
‘Til she gave in
To despair
Bad, bad
Mom
Good?
Nonsense
ImpossibleDidn’t you hear?
Her heavenly song
He reads God’s word all day
I’m proud to claim him—surprise
He’s proud too. Mistakes? Too many
But in God’s rule, He rewrites the past
Darlene Franklin ©2014
Form: Quintella
TO HEROES
I run from gunshots ev’ry time
A fire shoots sparks, and I draw back
Those few who answer the attack
Go to not from that scary clime
From all deserve respect sublime
Imago Dei
In hands You made I feel the rain
My eyes search far across the plain A single whiff smells stormy night
Go, taste the drops before they gain
Ears hear the roll of thunder’s fright
Darlene Franklin ©2014
Monday, June 9, 2014
ANSWERING MY OWN PRAYERS
Recently I read a devotional on Jehovah Jireh, the God who provides. The book is Daily Reflections on the Names of God by Ava Pennington.
In the devotional, she talked about how Joseph's presence in Egypt allowed him to answer his family's prayer for food. Her challenge: How might Yahweh Jireh want me to provide for someone I am praying for today?
I prayed that God would help me be a friend to people who are hurting, instead of getting angry. (I was thinking of my aides.)
I even prayed that God would give me the grace to take action when the opportunity presented itself. You know, how when you pray for patience and so God gives you the opportunity to be patient?
Flash forward a few hours. A lady who has become a good friend came to lunch late and then, as always, took a very long time to eat. When I finished eating, I prepared to leave. She begged me, "please stay."
I left anyway . . .and felt guilty but didn't turn back,
Today I took an extra ten minutes with her. Feeling virtuous, I headed for my room. Said hi to another dear lady.
Who asked me--you guessed it--to come in to visit.
I said no, but no further than a foot past her door before I turned back.
I still have to figure out the puzzle of churly aides.
Anyhow--maybe my challenge is yours as well. Maybe we already know what we should do, and pray for grace--and "just do it."
In the devotional, she talked about how Joseph's presence in Egypt allowed him to answer his family's prayer for food. Her challenge: How might Yahweh Jireh want me to provide for someone I am praying for today?
I prayed that God would help me be a friend to people who are hurting, instead of getting angry. (I was thinking of my aides.)
I even prayed that God would give me the grace to take action when the opportunity presented itself. You know, how when you pray for patience and so God gives you the opportunity to be patient?
Flash forward a few hours. A lady who has become a good friend came to lunch late and then, as always, took a very long time to eat. When I finished eating, I prepared to leave. She begged me, "please stay."
I left anyway . . .and felt guilty but didn't turn back,
Today I took an extra ten minutes with her. Feeling virtuous, I headed for my room. Said hi to another dear lady.
Who asked me--you guessed it--to come in to visit.
I said no, but no further than a foot past her door before I turned back.
I still have to figure out the puzzle of churly aides.
Anyhow--maybe my challenge is yours as well. Maybe we already know what we should do, and pray for grace--and "just do it."
Thursday, June 5, 2014
READING AND WRITING May 29-June 4, 201
Not much to report this week. I've written 1 2/3 chapters of my novella, Priceless Pearl. Not as much as I need to have written . . .
And I've only 60 pages or so of my WWII romance. I've enjoyed it so far, but time has been short.
Hopefully I will have more news to report next week!
And I've only 60 pages or so of my WWII romance. I've enjoyed it so far, but time has been short.
Hopefully I will have more news to report next week!
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
POETRY ZONE MAY 28-June 3, 2014
Today is one of those high-as-a-kite days. Two of this week's poems, My World is Blue and Maya Angelou is Dead, were chosen as this week's blooms at http://poeticbloomings.com/
So here they are:
Prompt: "I Dreamed About. . ."
ONCE I DREAMED OF NO DREAMS
Once upon a time I was a Musketeer
Living a dream I didn’t know I wanted
Death knocked at my door, leaving me
Alone
Alone I entered my nursing home jail
Living a nightmare I earned by bad choices
Hospitals blew down my house of cards
Crippled
Crippled I dozed in my chair on wheels
Existing in a vacuum I need help to survive
Air warmed me, body and spirit
Awake
Waiting I sensed unseen angel wings
Not believing, I could not deny them
Musketeers reunited, hope reignited
Loved
Form: Royal Rime
WORLD OF BLUE
Today my world is blue and I am blessed
Pastel walls framed with wood and white welcome
Me, dressed in sky blue and sunflowers, guest
Blanket of walnut and fern, rub my thumb
Accents of tropical blooms my anthem
Shower cleanses me behind violet blue sheets
Aqua to robin’s egg, my life is sweet
Darlene Franklin ©2014
Maya Angelou is dead
Maya Angelou is dead
She spoke for rock, river and tree
Word-wrought spell brought light as it spread
She spoke for nations, worlds and me
Unique yet united are we
No longer caged by mortality
Her song leaps from star to star, free
Darlene Franklin ©2014
So here they are:
Prompt: "I Dreamed About. . ."
ONCE I DREAMED OF NO DREAMS
Once upon a time I was a Musketeer
Living a dream I didn’t know I wanted
Death knocked at my door, leaving me
Alone
Alone I entered my nursing home jail
Living a nightmare I earned by bad choices
Hospitals blew down my house of cards
Crippled
Crippled I dozed in my chair on wheels
Existing in a vacuum I need help to survive
Air warmed me, body and spirit
Awake
Waiting I sensed unseen angel wings
Not believing, I could not deny them
Musketeers reunited, hope reignited
Loved
Form: Royal Rime
WORLD OF BLUE
Today my world is blue and I am blessed
Pastel walls framed with wood and white welcome
Me, dressed in sky blue and sunflowers, guest
Blanket of walnut and fern, rub my thumb
Accents of tropical blooms my anthem
Shower cleanses me behind violet blue sheets
Aqua to robin’s egg, my life is sweet
Darlene Franklin ©2014
Maya Angelou is dead
Maya Angelou is dead
She spoke for rock, river and tree
Word-wrought spell brought light as it spread
She spoke for nations, worlds and me
Unique yet united are we
No longer caged by mortality
Her song leaps from star to star, free
Darlene Franklin ©2014
Monday, June 2, 2014
THE MERRY MERRY MONTH OF MAY
Where did May go? To a week in the hospital and. . .what?
All kinds of issues have been resolved.
- I actually have therapy five days a week. I am standing more easily and walking more. My arms are stretching higher, as well as my "core." I am so very glad.
- The rapid weight gain has finally stopped. Not losing weight yet, but it's a step in the right direction.
- I finished the Women of the Bible devotional project. It challenged and blessed me in a zillion ways. I wrote about women R-T. From the Matriarchs Rachel, Rebekah and Sarah to women of infamy (Sapphira, anyone?) and many others I didn't even recognize, my eyes having glazed over their names in those long genealogy lists.
- Started a novella for Barbour. I am delighted to be working with Barbour again.
- Seeing real progress in the ladies I eat with every day. I can count on one lady saying the same thing every day, but the other three of us have conversations on a variety of topics.
- I am sleeping well. I go through long spells of not sleeping well, so it's a blessing.
- My oldest granddaughter graduated from high school. A happy time for the family indeed.
- Apparently without my knowledge I am now on both Medicaid and Medicare, which allows me a lot more versatility in medical coverage.
- After years of suspecting I have sleep apnea, it was confirmed. And the hospital doctor told me the bipap machine I'm using could add 5 years to my life. (Why didn't we check this earlier?)
- Winning a bloom of the week for two poems at http://poeticbloomings.com/ I'm still treating poetry as a fragile Christmas ornament that I have no idea what to do with it. But apparently I'm a good poet. (Three wins on three months)
I already mentioned the daily therapy--welcome but exhausting.
But then they finally identified the biggest problem with the weight: I've been drinking too much! Close to my six to eight cups of water. . .plus 1-2 diet cokes, 1 cup of coffee, and 2 drinks with each meal. I've been cut to half of that. 2 tiny glasses (milk and juice) for breakfast, a cup of water with miralax, 1 small glass of tea at lunch and supper, 1 cup of water for taking meds throughout the day. And one final cup that I can use any way I wish. I'm sure they would prefer I drink water but I choose between juice, diet coke, and coffee.
So when my mouth gets during therapy, I pop a couple of ice chips in my mouth. When I cough. . .that's a problem.
None of the changes by themselves have been difficult. Surprisingly so. But every now and then I want to splurge. To have cup of coffee in the morning. To have two pieces of birthday cake, or two cookies instead of one. (I know, I'm blessed that I still get small portions of desserts). For me to be the one to remind a nurse, "I can't have that."
So thanks for you for "listening." It helps to remember all the reasons for rejoicing.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
READING AND WRITING May 22-28, 2014
Ah, back to writing. I spent most of the week editing thirty devotionals for Women of the Bible. I had women from very well known matriarchs (Sarah and Rebekah) to women mentioned only once (Rufus's mother). A challenging, fulfilling study.
I am now in the throes of starting a novella for Homestead Brides, due out next year. Barbour has assembled a great group of writers for nine novellas in the anthology. My story is Priceless Pearl, set during the 1893 Oklahoma Land Run.
I finished Gameland--without a clear ending, of course, so I will buy the next installment. :) But I won't, as much as I enjoyed the story.
Next I read another mystery, Stranger in Town by Cheryl Bradshaw. A PI mystery about a child abduction case--a few murders, but not the main mystery. Definitely a series I would revisit.
I just started A Distant Melody by Sarah Sundin, a WWII story. I look forward to reading about the ugly duckling. (at least that's how the heroine sees herself)
This isn't a book, but I am enjoying the return of 24 to TV for a limited engagement.
I am now in the throes of starting a novella for Homestead Brides, due out next year. Barbour has assembled a great group of writers for nine novellas in the anthology. My story is Priceless Pearl, set during the 1893 Oklahoma Land Run.
I finished Gameland--without a clear ending, of course, so I will buy the next installment. :) But I won't, as much as I enjoyed the story.
Next I read another mystery, Stranger in Town by Cheryl Bradshaw. A PI mystery about a child abduction case--a few murders, but not the main mystery. Definitely a series I would revisit.
I just started A Distant Melody by Sarah Sundin, a WWII story. I look forward to reading about the ugly duckling. (at least that's how the heroine sees herself)
This isn't a book, but I am enjoying the return of 24 to TV for a limited engagement.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Poetry Zone May 21-27, 2014
Prompt: Combine first lines or titles from your favorite musician into a poem. I thought about John Denver and Charles Wesley, but ended up with Fanny Crosby. Wesley and Crosby both wrote hymns, and her hymns are the ones I still sing.
FANNY CROSBY’S BLIND FAITH
Rescue the perishing for I am Thine, o Lord
Pass me not, o gentle Savior
Redeemed, how I love to proclaim it
Near the cross, tell me the stories of Jesus
He hideth my soul close to thee
Blessed assurance, to God be the glory
Take the world but give me Jesus
Savior, more than life to me
To God be the glory of unsearchable riches
Jesus is tenderly calling me home
All the way my Savior leads me
To that bright forever
Form: Staccatto
Two poems for this one.
ON PHYSICAL THERAPY
He holds colored cones in a tow’ring stack
My arm stretches out, bones grinding on bones
Reach high! Reach high! Don’t dare to stop
Unfolding fingers brush air and miss
Undaunted, I extend my hand again
Reach high! At last the end, success
ON GRADUATION
Proudly you march to pomp and circumstance
While your heart beats romp with joy on this day
Go forth! Go forth! The world’s your stage
Your choice to make, to hurl yourself
Into the future, grasping the brass ring
Go forth with confidence, clasping your dreams.
FANNY CROSBY’S BLIND FAITH
Rescue the perishing for I am Thine, o Lord
Pass me not, o gentle Savior
Redeemed, how I love to proclaim it
Near the cross, tell me the stories of Jesus
He hideth my soul close to thee
Blessed assurance, to God be the glory
Take the world but give me Jesus
Savior, more than life to me
To God be the glory of unsearchable riches
Jesus is tenderly calling me home
All the way my Savior leads me
To that bright forever
Form: Staccatto
Two poems for this one.
ON PHYSICAL THERAPY
He holds colored cones in a tow’ring stack
My arm stretches out, bones grinding on bones
Reach high! Reach high! Don’t dare to stop
Unfolding fingers brush air and miss
Undaunted, I extend my hand again
Reach high! At last the end, success
ON GRADUATION
Proudly you march to pomp and circumstance
While your heart beats romp with joy on this day
Go forth! Go forth! The world’s your stage
Your choice to make, to hurl yourself
Into the future, grasping the brass ring
Go forth with confidence, clasping your dreams.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
READING AND WRITING May 15-21, 2014
I finished Lacy William's novella this week and now I'm in the middle of my first-ever foray into ya-zombie fiction. I don't know zombie mythology but the story is actually more compelling than I expected, with the heavy hand of big brother ready to fall on these nerdy kids' necks. The book is Gameland by S.W. Tanpepper.
Writing-wise, I figured out that at my revised goal of 1K a day, I have contracts to keep me busy through October (and beyond). So I hunkered done and revised 22 devotions of the 30 I need to turn in ASAP. This project, learning more about women whose names I didn't recognize (many are mentioned only once) has challenged and blessed me.
I also wrote a devotional for a summer handout at independent Christian bookstores--thanks to CAN (one of 30 we're doing). The theme was "summer." I struggled with it until I brainstormed sights and activities that I associate with summer. When I got to crops, my mind went ding! ding! ding! The story of how Egypt, Vermont got its name and the background of my story, Bride to Love. Bride to Love is one of a five-novel anthology coming out this summer: The New England Romance Collection.
And to cap off this week: Here is the cover of my next Heartsong book, Saving Felicity. (Book #7 set in Maple Notch, but contemporary this time.)
Writing-wise, I figured out that at my revised goal of 1K a day, I have contracts to keep me busy through October (and beyond). So I hunkered done and revised 22 devotions of the 30 I need to turn in ASAP. This project, learning more about women whose names I didn't recognize (many are mentioned only once) has challenged and blessed me.
I also wrote a devotional for a summer handout at independent Christian bookstores--thanks to CAN (one of 30 we're doing). The theme was "summer." I struggled with it until I brainstormed sights and activities that I associate with summer. When I got to crops, my mind went ding! ding! ding! The story of how Egypt, Vermont got its name and the background of my story, Bride to Love. Bride to Love is one of a five-novel anthology coming out this summer: The New England Romance Collection.
And to cap off this week: Here is the cover of my next Heartsong book, Saving Felicity. (Book #7 set in Maple Notch, but contemporary this time.)
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Poetry Zone May 14-20, 2014
Prompt was: Some things go
without saying. And sometimes there isn’t a right time to say the
obvious. Think of about seven (7) of the worst things you could
say to someone who was just dumped. Make three of them the first lines on a
three (3) stanza poem on the subject!
My response:
When fears of dying lonely filled my head
Too far away from them, my mother penned.
More important for us, my man of men
Control brought pleasure to him, friends saw clues
My head held high, my days unfold like new
The form was a Tyburn, "a six line poem consisting of 2,2,2,2,9,9 syllables. The first four lines rhyme and are all descriptive words. The last two lines rhyme and incorporate the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th lines as the 5th to 8th syllables." I missed the 9 and wrote 8 instead but these were more fun:
Children at Play
Spinning
Grinning
Pinning
Winning
Children at play spinning, grinning,
We all fall down, pinning, winning
inspired by Jaran's description of Jordan and Isaiah playing at the local water park
Nature's Lace
Weaving
Reeving
Grieving
Leaving
The spider works weaving, reeving
When web is shred, grieving, leaving
trying to think of "nature" themes, I thought of the rare spiders we see here. . .
My response:
Happily Married—Not
Not good enough for you, my father said
Was I the fool for choosing him back then When fears of dying lonely filled my head
More important for us, my man of men
My head held high, my days unfold like new
The form was a Tyburn, "a six line poem consisting of 2,2,2,2,9,9 syllables. The first four lines rhyme and are all descriptive words. The last two lines rhyme and incorporate the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th lines as the 5th to 8th syllables." I missed the 9 and wrote 8 instead but these were more fun:
Children at Play
Spinning
Grinning
Pinning
Winning
Children at play spinning, grinning,
We all fall down, pinning, winning
inspired by Jaran's description of Jordan and Isaiah playing at the local water park
Weaving
Reeving
Grieving
Leaving
The spider works weaving, reeving
When web is shred, grieving, leaving
trying to think of "nature" themes, I thought of the rare spiders we see here. . .
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