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impacting significance

Posted by on 5:40 pm in family, journal, love, memoir, relationships, writing | 0 comments

impacting significance

The most impacting people in our lives rarely realize their significance. Especially when their impact lasts long after they’re gone. The strongest influences in my life are my forebears, particularly my grandmother Emily (Grand Emmy.) We share more than our names; she praises similar fondness for, and impact of, her grandmother, Emma. Without Grand Emmy, the depth and breadth of my namesakes’ lives would vanish with time. Beginning 5 generations ago, it’s realistic to imagine an 1800’s born and bred woman upholding feminine...

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children are the keepers

Posted by on 4:20 am in family, fear, friendship, grief, hope, journal, love, memoir, relationships, writing | 0 comments

children are the keepers

  The truth may hurt for a little while, but a lie hurts forever—especially if it starts while we’re young. Naivete protects, but only for so long. Innocently developing brains absorb multifarious influences that pour into id and ego’s foundations. As we grow our sub-conscience clings to these diverse exposures, sorting the positive and negative to shape our identities, emulating the good and shedding the bad. Truth becomes at risk. Nature intends parents as ideal caretakers and role models; lucky little ones enjoy remarkably...

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fatherless

Posted by on 3:20 pm in family | 0 comments

fatherless

guest post by my brother, Rusty Halverson – Mothers have we all but the fathers are all missing in the pictures of our start. They write in pencil in the journals of our heart. It’s so easy to erase the traces of disgrace; all the mothers had lovers who deny what they created. The world is a theater of the mother’s indiscretions and there’s no way to pay or apologize for what occurred between her thighs. The die is cast, we must revisit our emergence. Through that thrust we make our message clear; we are here, we are free, we will...

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the wedding desk

Posted by on 2:28 am in fear, hope, journal, love, relationships, writing | 0 comments

the wedding desk

artisans carved intricacies into its sturdy legs, rubbed glowing wax onto its tooled leather top, and fit golden locks within its private drawers; donning decorous stone-walled castles, silent and loyal, collecting courtesan’s hushed tryst and dungeon’s torture scream, untold mysteries rested with far-flung keys on ocean’s gravely floor; traveling o’er watery tomb one hundred years past, now before a self-bound guarded girl, bitter scorn transforms; locked heart protected silent ambition until his act of love; bestowing conveys hungry...

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are you ONE out there?

Posted by on 8:03 pm in hope, journal, relationships, writing | 5 comments

are you ONE out there?

We’re all here to connect, to find purpose of experience (good and bad), and place of self (also good and bad). We write, we read, we edit, we write some more, we visit blogs and comment hoping to draw more readers to our own blogs but really we just want to connect. Does it matter if I have 2 followers or 20,000? If I want to secure an agent who will work to secure a publisher who will work toward selling what I write for a profit, who will find readers like you, then yes, I need thousands of followers. But what if I just want ONE...

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you

Posted by on 7:29 pm in grief, journal, love, relationships, writing | 0 comments

you

i happened upon a still meadow where i saw the memory of our bodies loving under the soft white clouds in the bluest of blue skies, i felt the breeze upon my shoulders and remembered the elegant gentleness of your touch, i closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the sun on my eyelids and there you were fluttering kisses from your whiskered mouth onto my lips. nature’s peace now surrounds, tranquil quelling carries crickets’ chirp, mate’s call echos within golden blades of corn, mountain skylines paint far off vistas, golden...

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yellow bird

Posted by on 5:44 pm in family, grief, love, memoir | 0 comments

yellow bird

They burned you. I watched your thinning blond hair and prominent nose roll away behind the window of the hearse and then they burned you. Not two months earlier you were at my house for Christmas dinner. And we laughed, and you stayed extra nights because the storm kept you from driving home and I cried when you left even after extra days together, because I love you so very much. Yes I loved you as intensely as a daughter could, and no matter how my guts gnarl into balls of emotion and lump in my throat I simply cannot cry anymore from all...

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lover’s call

Posted by on 5:34 pm in fear, journal, love, relationships | 0 comments

lover’s call

jasmine fire sets tender blaze to the almonds of his eyes, rosy mouth curls, fire lights round the moon of my soul, beckoning unknowingly, digging days for a night’s soul not yet dead. simple bartered pet, portal to purvey, complex petting portends, smoothness of skin tantalizes tracing fingertips, moist lips repose tendencies past, lapse of memory begets shuddering cacophony, desire frightens crescendo’s trust. alas the silken thread remains. words twist, syllables erode, leave now! flurry of speech cannot undo, comprehension alludes....

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as he lay dying

Posted by on 5:30 pm in family, grief, memoir | 0 comments

as he lay dying

one grows eerily accustomed to the waiting, almost immune to the life draining away from them in the next room as if the jaundiced sleeping form isn’t human now that its riddled with foreign cannibalistic cells, slowly eating him alive from the inside out bustling activity beyond his bedroom door feigns significance in comforting his eroding body an ear pressed against the door jamb crack confirms he still breathes and the bustling resumes sometimes it is quiet bustling, a mother and their son reviewing funeral home details while other...

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avoidance

Posted by on 4:11 pm in fear, journal, memoir, writing | 2 comments

avoidance

I avoid the keyboard. An ocean of thoughts swell into waves of ideas, mounting to feverish tsunami. Words and phrases rise and fall, swirling into sentences and paragraphs. The undertow sucks at my feet and pulls me down. I know from experience only drowning awaits; I will myself away from the desk. I must get busy. I must distract myself to kick free. Endeavors to distract deceive like riptides under calm waters. I plant hosta, I weed the phlox bed, I water the new sod, I dead-head black-eyed susans, I pay the electric and cell phone bills,...

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