A Long Shot

old-typewriterSometimes, I use an old manual typewriter

Unfortunately, for me, I never asked myself what I intended to do with these hundreds of poems I’ve written in my life – and am now overwhelmed in the editing of some. Until I started this blog, in 2013, I just assumed I’d keep my poems printed out in a notebook ‘to be read by others after I’m dead’. That assumption is not how things have turned out.

First of all, I’ve learned that I can use my guts AND my blog to help me determine poems I might want to work on further. And I’ve learned that, on a creative level, I trust those reading my blog…some stuff is ok – on a personal level, but I want to write about beyond what is personal. Something personal and universal.

And secondly, I’ve learned about different ways writers are publishing these days. Before 2013, e-Books seemed futuristic and foreign to me. Self-publishing was something poets did in ‘vanity publications’ – same thing but more complicated because one still had to find such publishing places and send your work off and then pay them to publish it…so that’s pretty eye-opening and mind-altering to me because…

I actually want to be a short story writer. I actually want to get a book of short stories together and have it published in paper copy. I don’t want to self-publish. And that’s my present dilemma.

I’m in the process of editing 50 of the hundreds of poems I’ve written. Maybe I’ll do something with those poems. They are still so far from finished. There are editing issues – using the same word more that once, in poems as short as I write, is really annoying to me, and other larger issues to help my poetry flow from personal to universal.

I know I’m a poet. I’m also a wife and a daughter and a sister and an aunt and a friend.

So I’m gonna write a short story, dammit, and send it into some magazine. Maybe I’ll publish bits of it here, on my blog, to get a feel.

So there!


photo via pixabay

A WP Friend Has Published Again!

Check this out! Just in time for holiday giving.

Legends of Windemere

Dive into the newest adventure of Luke Callindor, Nyx, Fizzle, & all their friends.

Cover Art by Jason Pedersen Cover Art by Jason Pedersen

What’s the Story?

After their battles in Gaia and surviving the Island of Pallice, the champions of Windemere are off on their next adventure.

In his quest to be a hero and help others, Luke Callindor has jumped into danger countless times and would do so again without hesitation. So when he is infected by the toxic Dark Wind, it is up to his friends to find a cure and keep his courage alive. With time running out and their enemies in the shadows, one ally will make the decision to share in Luke’s suffering and forge a bond that runs thicker than blood. Such a sacrifice might not be enough when the truth behind this living curse comes to light.

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On Second Thought – On Self Publishing

*  I am rethinking self-publishing a collection of my poetry/prose at this particular time.

*  I am not chickening out.  I am being realistic for my own self.  I have a faithful group of people who consistently read my work.  I’m so grateful for this…some days this is what keeps me writing.

*  Realistically, I haven’t reached a large enough number of people – who like my work – to self publish at this time.

*  I’ll begin sending new works off for publication online or otherwise. I won’t be able to post the works I submit.  That doesn’t mean I won’t be posting my poetry.  That’s so stupid, right?  Any poem I may post here…well that’s not near the final draft.

*  So there ya have that.  It’s where I am right now.  I may bind up my poetry collection to date..and give to my siblings.  Perhaps other family members.

*  And that’s that for that for now 😛


Hammock Sense

 <——It’s time for this, but more on that later.

I’ve been doing lots of work and I think I’m getting someplace.  All of my poems have been copied onto a memory key.  I’ve almost made up my mind which online publishing company I’ll use.  Tomorrow I’m buying or looking for a little online guide to the steps I’ll have to take.  I’ve read several articles but….I want to know more.

I had my hair cut.  I look like Buster Brown’s sister. What’s with the bang cutting issues these days?

And now I’m off to dreamland.


A Kind Spirit Has Published! – (“Finally Back Home” by Irfaan ‘Ihsan’ Jaffer)

Though he has recently experienced a horrible crash of his site, a loving spirit has published his poetry!  Thanks to the staff at WP his site is restored!  Magical!  Please allow me to direct you here:

Finally Back Home by Irfaan ‘Ihsan’ Jaffer

There is not a poem, in this collection, one could not sit with and find peace.  Thank you, Ishan, for this prayer and gift and hope.

I look forward to reading these poems again and to immerse myself into their flow.


Everyone Heard Her

Let me put this up here.  This is an idea I’ve been working on for the small poetry collection I hope to publish this year.    At first I thought it would be just poetry.  Now I’m working on the idea of one page poetry and the facing page prose on the same theme.  I have one  ready.  Unfortunately, I won’t be able to use the photographs in the book  😦  Wondering how this would go over.  If you have a moment to comment your opinion of this idea that’s be great.  If not, know that I appreciate you reading this and following my work.   Ellespeth

Over The Neighbors’ Fences – A Poem
Everyone heard her leaving him
hollering out
into a blue sky afternoon.
Quilts and sheets
billowed on clothes lines
and ladies whispered
over backyard fences
up and down the block.
The men hurried to the corner
where they discussed the situation
over beer and peanuts
up and down the bar.


I Was A Young Boy ThenProse/Fiction

Everyone heard her shouting.  All up and down the block they
gathered.   Darkness hovered hauntingly over our neighborhood.

“I won’t hear from your lips again!” she hollered.“Not another word that you say!”

I was a young boy then.  Listening safely, from my bed, to this
ruckus in the night. Hoping
her husband would say something.

Everything in the world was silent.
And then there came the sound of her
old red Mustang screeching down our street.




My life isn’t out of control.  I’m quite in control of what I’m doing.  I’m writing and not keeping up with the rest of my life.  I’m going to combine some of my prose and poetry into one small collection.  That means I have to write much more prose.  I’ll begin with 12 poems and 12 pieces of prose.  Poetry on one page and a piece of prose on the page beside.  Hmmm…and my blog is a mess.

Hopefully yours,


Most Probably – Probably Prose

Most probably, I’ll be moving – usually these days – away from my poetry (which I am collecting now and editing for publication) more into prose and flash fiction.  I may still write some poetry but…

creative passions are changeable – thankfully.  An artist is passionate about something and creates it and works upon it endlessly.  Then one day to awaken and discover that that particular passion has waned.  One can be quite passionate about pink – at 6 – and then more passionate about blueberries – at 63.

And that’s what’s happening.  And what’s happening is good for my creative spirit.  I’m grateful.

I’ll begin this this evening.  Sometime later.

And what she said floated
as though above a waiting  scroll
and landed
ancient to her.


One Summer Soon An Autumn

I am exhausted lately to think of it.  It.  To publish that small collection of my poetry I promised myself to do this spring.  Here we are…almost summer.  I’m chuckling.  There’s no way I’ll meet the spring deadline.  Autumn.  I’ve always loved October!  So crisp and fresh before all that death.

That’s OK.  The world –  thank the gods –  won’t end on Summer Solstice.  I can break a promise to myself now and then.  So that’s OK.

One summer soon.  I’m smiling on myself.  One summer soon an autumn.