Making Bright Out of Shadows

In darkness, away from leaf-song and rain-scented soil, hearts wilt and die. In the light, where words speak halved thoughts and poetry kisses riddles, stories will die. I hear it. I think it… Then, that something that binds us (do you know what it is?), that thing made of mud, daydreams and wild bits of you and me, fills my bones with chants of Maybe… and I know better—stories only die if you let them and hearts always live if we read.

Making bright
out of the shadows,
the soul smiles…
while I remember
the power of ink.

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the (not so) wee notes…
– Last Sunday, I wasn’t having the best of days. I was feeling a bit gloomy, out of sorts… So, I put on my super-power skirt (everybody should have something—in their closet, bookcase, wallet…—that instantly fills them with good memories. I wore the skirt in question, for the first time, during a dance while I was a junior in high school, the same night I figured out that life was freaking weird, but since I was weird, too, then life was yummy). Anyhoo, I put on brown combat boots and my super-power skirt and a dear friend and I went thrifting. The thrift shop was closed when we got there, so we laughed a tad madly, went to the grocery store and bought two pies (I got peach!), and life was yummy. When I saw this rather dark picture (below), taken on the bus on our way back from pie shopping, I noticed how my smile shines through the gloom (I have super-power teeth, too), and I thought, Yep, life is yummy and then some.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

My Stitched Darlings

“Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough… Make good art.” ~ Neil Gaiman

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Most things are born screaming,
fighting a world too new
to be wanted by any.

Not you, my stitched darlings.

You crawled out of me
serene (dark ink kissing paper
tasting of coffee or tea),
imagination and patience
making new out of old.

I love watching you grow,

my stitched darlings, watching you
being wanted by (m)any hearts…
and being loved (so loved) by me.

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the (not so) wee notes…
– I started stitching poetry in an effort to fight a combination of injury and disease that was stiffening my hands—handwriting and stitching requires specific movements that exercise tiny muscles that would not get a daily workout otherwise. I really liked the stitched results, loved them even. So, I started collecting them. Then, my friend Emma suggested they were so cool that I should consider making them available for purchase.

I giggled at her loving silliness. Who would want to buy this stuff, really? I thought. I love them because I love everything that is mine. Emma loves them because she loves me (she’s insane like that). Then, strangers who saw my stitched words on Instagram started asking if I sold them. When I said, “Of course”, they began to buy them. Yes, I’m still a tad surprised, but also proud… of my stitched darlings.

–  Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ A Glance at Narrative. K, asks us to “think of some story in writing [a] poem.” I’m handfasting K’s prompt to Paul’s Scribble It, which invites us to birth poetry “that speaks in some way of a ‘First Time’”. Also adding to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry 364.

Another Note (for those who’ve emailed me about my shop’s opening date): my online store will open in September. I apologize for the delays… It’s just that life insists on throwing wrenches my way. And I can only dance so fast… But September seems all right (for now… we don’t want to tempt Fate, do we? And yes, by “we” I mean “me”).