Tag Archives: poetry

Words & Images Workshop

Kayaks -- April J. Moore

I recently participated in a photography-poetry workshop where we learned how to take photographs (even with a camera phone) and combine finished pieces with works of poetry. I’ll be the first to admit that poetry is not my forte (you can see my previous dismal attempt here). For this workshop, Kerrie Flanagan helped guide us through writing haikus and Cinquains. Turns out there’s a science to this poetry stuff. 

Basic Haiku:
Line 1: Five syllables
Line 2: Seven syllables
Line 3: Five Syllables

Basic Cinquain:
Line 1: Two syllables
Line 2: Four syllables
Line 3: Six syllables
Line 4: Eight syllables
Line 5: Two syllables

This was a great workshop that got me to try something I hadn’t done before. I’ve always loved taking photos, but I never took them much further than my camera phone (which I’ll point out, took all of these photos). And of course, dabbling in poetry—something brand new to me—was fantastic. 

Hold On -- April J. Moore

My child,
who clings to me,
I’ve no arms to pull you;
what any mother longs to do.
Hold on.
                                                     ~ Mother Earth

Canoe -- April J. Moore
Come now,
moment is right.
Smooth, calm, and just like glass.
Bring a paddle so we can then
shatter.

Self Portrait -- April J. Moore

Forget about up,
cast your eyes on something else;
see the world anew.

Toshiba Tears --April J. Moore

Toshiba Tears

Unplugged and marked free.
Still, stories unfold on screens
that no one watches.

Droplets -- April J. Moore

Droplets gather here,
safe upon this ledge of green.
Don’t drip, drizzle, drop!

Suzette McIntyre, our photography instructor and owner of Boardwalk Gallery, put together a wonderful show of everyone’s work. Part of the fun was seeing what everyone had done. If you live in the area and are interested in participating in the next workshop (likely this fall) contact Suzette. Even if you don’t take a class like this, I urge to try this activity on your own; it might spark a new interest you didn’t know was there.
Words & Images reception -- April J. Moore

Words and Images Reception

Words & Images Reception -- April J. MooreIf you’re in the area this Saturday, you ought to swing by Boardwalk Gallery in Windsor from 5:00-8:00 p.m. The show is a culmination of photos taken from during a photography workshop taught by Suzette McIntyre, combined with poetry writing lead by Kerrie Flanagan. I’m excited to show my “body of work” and check out the other works from my fellow classmates. If anything, come for the wine and cheese . . .

Hope to see you there.
Words & Images, Self-portrait -- April J. Moore“Self-Portrait”

 

Writing Prompt Wednesday {Title Edition}

Writing Prompt Wednesday

 

It’s nice to be back in the swing of things after the A to Z Challenge. If you’re looking for some inspiration, check out my previous Writing Prompt Wednesday posts, and as always, feel free to use any of these. Post here, there, anywhere; just write! 

Today, I thought I’d shake things up a bit and come up with some titles, which can also spark a short story, flash fiction, novel, or poetry idea. 

  • The Shop Girl’s Secret
  • The Elephant in My Attic
  • King of Sycamore Street
  • The Fires of Spring
  • The Mourning Years
  • Waiting for War
  • The Bitter Brides Club
  • Last Flight Out of Paris

Happy Writing!

 

Writing Prompt Wednesday

Writing Prompt Wednesday

In honor of National Grammar Day, here’s a list of prompts that . . . ah . . . have nothing to do with grammar. Just celebrate this day by picking a prompt (or two!) and write something. Honor this momentous occasion with a short story, poem or flash fiction. You’re welcome to post it in the comments section, on your own blog (link it, baby) or among the pages of your journal. 

  • Evan couldn’t believe his luck, when the elevator doors opened and . . .
  • At first, the lake appeared flawlessly iced-over, then Amy saw . . .
  • Dave knew he’d never be allowed back . . . 
  • It wasn’t supposed to get out of hand.
  • The memory of her walking . . .
  • The man stood behind the glass and waited . . .
  • Layla took one last swig of beer and  . . . 
  • I hated that he knew about . . .

Happy writing!

My Early Work . . .

Clearly, writing drew me in at an early age . . . specifically, first or second grade. 
Oh, geez, what can I say?!I find it difficult to believe I came up with this myself (even though there was a lovely pussy willow tree in the backyard of the house I grew up in), but I also have a hard time envisioning a teacher picking out this poem for the class to write. In either case, it must have triggered a lively discussion in the teachers’ lounge. 

Happy Monday.

TulipTree Publishing

TulipTree Publishing

TulipTree Publishing is a great new publisher looking for quality content for TulipTree Review, their literary journal; TulipTree Online, a separate online review; and TulipTree Books, printed works of authors, including anthologies. Editor, Jennifer Top, is looking for submissions and now’s a great time to submit. Plus, each quarter, $1000 will be awarded to first place winners in short fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry. 

From TulipTree:

TulipTree Review is seeking entries for its first round of contests for its inaugural issue! A first place prize of $1,000 will be awarded in each category of short fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry. Second and third place winners will receive $200 and $100, respectively. Winners and all those selected for publication will receive a free subscription to the new literary journal. The theme for the first issue is BEGIN. Deadline: March 9.

Check out TulipTree Publishing to learn more and be sure to Like them on Facebook

Good luck and happy writing!

Echoes: Reflections Through Poetry and Verse is Now Available

Echoes: Reflections Through Poetry and Verse by Dean K. MillerDean K. Miller’s poetry book, featuring some illustrations by yours truly, is now available in paperback from Amazon. Echoes: Reflections Through Poetry and Verse is a wonderful collection of poems that range from poignant and heartfelt, to clever and witty. You can read one of the poems, A Letter Home, HERE. Be sure to also see Dean’s other work. And Then I Smiled: Reflections on a Life Not Yet Complete and The Odyssey of the Monk. Dean is a brilliant poet and author who has the amazing ability to paint beautiful, vivid scenes with words—I highly recommend this book. 

 

A Sneak Peek

I’m thrilled to be working again with author Dean K. Miller.  This time, it’s for his forthcoming poetry book, Echoes: Reflections Through Poetry and Verse.
Echoes: Reflections Through Poetry and Verse by Dean K. MillerIt’s not available until November, but in the meantime, I’ll leave you with this sneak peek of one of the several illustrations I did for the inside . . .
Past Due

You can also read one of Dean’s poems, “A Letter Home,” featured on Readwave.

 

Gladys the Badass

burglar

At 3 a.m. yesterday morning, we woke up to some guy trying to get into our garage. He wasn’t quiet about it either. Initially, we thought it could be raccoon or other furry “friends.” My husband has a storied history of battling squirrels who continually taunt him outside his home office window. In fact, he watches a lot from his office window, earning him the moniker from our neighbor friends, of “Gladys” (as in Gladys Kravitz, the see-all neighbor from the t.v. show, Bewitched). Of course, it’s all in fun. This, however, was not fun. Our Chevy pickup has been broken into twice before (nothing inside to take), but the assailants were pretty stealthy about it. Not this one. So my quiet and reserved computer engineer husband, had had enough. Gladys was pissed off. I couldn’t resist writing a little ditty about what happened next:  (Poetry’s not my forte, so I apologize if the alliteration is off–and for the two cuss words. Sorry, Mom).

Rudely awakened from a peaceful slumber,

not a minute passed the witching hour.

A bang, a crash . . . (man, I hope we’re not outnumbered).

Hit the lights, turn up the power.

Hey! Don’t we have a dog?

Where’s the snarl? Where’s the growl?

Curled upon his pillow, he’s sleeping like a log.

Wake up! There’s something on the prowl!

 .

A peek outside shows someone’s there,

sneaking, lurking, in our truck.

Hurry! Dress and cover up your underwear!

Quickly clad, out the door, hey . . . what the fuck?!

 .

This mild-mannered man of mine,

who’s only battled flickers and squirrels,

ready now for car thieve swine.

Full of gumption and drive, sans deferral.

He sprang into action and just missed a fist.

Then swiftly grabbed him by his coat,

down he went, the ground he kissed.

But there was no time to cheer or gloat.

 .

During a scuffle of words and punches,

he saw the man was drunk or high,

most-likely looking for cash a’ bunches,

But instead ticked off this shy, computer guy.

 .

The suspect broke loose and ran amok,

cussing and stumbling down the street.

Run, run you stupid schmuck,

Here come the city’s top elite.

Uniforms canvased, searched, and swept,

but found no visible trace.

He sneaked, slinked and away he crept,

Forcing the cops, to give up the chase.

 .

We returned to the house all pumped and wound up,

greeted by Fido, now alert and awake.

Well, you’re no help, you oblivious pup.

You can kiss good-bye that T-bone steak.

 .

Who knew this nerd of computers and code,

could unleash such fists of fury.

Unafraid, he seemed in action mode,

But now admits, it’s kinda blurry.

 .

Unaccustomed to vigilante work,

his muscles and joints felt angry and sore.

But he has no regrets of going berserk;

message sent: don’t fuck with Mr. Moore.

 .

Needless to say, it took a while for our heart rates to normalize and in retrospect, it may not have been the smartest thing to do. The man could have had a weapon. We were lucky. My husband said that he just reacted, figuring that after 38 years of never fighting, it was time for a throw down . . . and he hoped the squirrels were watching.