Survival Homestead

Oh, the hammer, the staples, muscles unknown

So ten chicks and a rooster can have a new home

Wack and pull weeds where the mower can’t go

Build the garden beds where the food will grow

Then to till the red clay earth and plant the seeds

Dirt under nails and blisters on knees

Heave-ho the shovel to dig the fire-pit

To tired, to sore to enjoy any of it

Only to burn the scrap wood after clean up

Of time and energy, there’s never enough

Lay the stones for the walk through the yard

Soft and flabby screams to be strong and hard

City life to survival homestead

Whatever was it that got into my head??

Early Morning Moments - AROS

Silken bowls twinkle in the sunrise

Cradle dewy imaginations

Tree limbs cocooned in stealth

Conjure Frankenstein images

Writing Inspiration

Following my dream of moving to the Appalachian Mountains was supposed to be for the sole purpose of writing. That really hasn’t happened – much. I’ve written a few blog posts at ravings of dkchi, I’ve written some poetry here at dk’s right to write, and in November 2011 I even signed up for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I managed 23K words and that was it.

The past few months I’ve been feeling the ember sparking a bit. Rather than pass through all the writing blog emails I subscribe to, I’ve actually been reading them. I’ve even subscribed to a few new ones. One of my favorite new ones is Jeff Goins, Writer. He is short and sweet, and makes me want to “steal lexes.”

His Writer’s Manifesto is a prime example of his brevity and encouragement.

Another is The Write Practice. The blog has prompts, contests, and simple tips. I’ve not partaken – yet – but every email from them brings me closer.

And of course, one I’ve mentioned previously, Writing Our Way Home, (WOWH).  This one I actually contribute to on a fairly regular basis and have made truly supportive, entertaining Internet friends. It was through WOWH that I found The Sunday Whirl. At one point, during those chilly winter (?) months, I at least wrote every Sunday. Now, I save them and the plan is to create an epic poem from all the Wordles.

Lately, I’ve had the desire to scratch with pen on paper. The feeling I have is that when I finally take the tablet and begin the etching this time, it will finally be that push to the finish line, if there is such a thing as a writer. I highly doubt it though, look at how many times Stephen Kings has ‘retired.’ Can you ever truly retire from your passion? Not sure, but right now I must go put nails in boards to finish a chicken coop. 

April 2, 2012 - Small Stone

Within soft blue cotton, warm gold and black at my feet, I sip hot black, 

surrounded by brilliant Cardinal, Bluejays, Finch, and Crow 

singing home the day. 

A Small Stone

For the first time in a very long time, I was inspired to write first thing in the morning.

Snowball puffs on moss covered limbs

Make brilliant a gray dawn

Michelin Man -AROS

One little Michelin Man marshmallow cloud in the west

Glows brilliant among the others’ dull grayness

Chosen by a single rising sunbeam

My small stone first thing this morning. A blessing reminder that one solitary being can light up the sky. 

Take Notice

My yard is not luscious green, rather rich red clay

Sprouting milkweed and dandelions, smiling at the freedom

I relish the rustic wilderness that welcomes crow and squirrel

Hummingbirds flutter with cardinals and giant bumble-bees

Buzz in the warmth, drunk on Bleeding Hearts

Wild Mountain Dogwoods bloom beside budding Blackberries

Cocks crow next door while chicks chirp in the office

Inspired by distant friends to halt the busyness and take notice