Wednesday, November 20, 2013

The Tidings of Winter


The forest floor is covered
In a colorful carpet of leaves,

The North wind whistles its eerie song
Through the barren branches of trees.

Soft flakes float like feathers
Falling without a sound,

They melt to glisten like morning dew
Once they touch the ground.

In the sky, the birds take flight
To form a ‘V’ shaped formation,

They know that they must travel far
To reach a warmer location.

The furry critters scurry about
Gathering food for their larder,

For they know the future months ahead
Will make finding food much harder.

Autumn is giving up her ghost
As the days grow shorter and colder,

And soon the world will have a blanket of white
For these are the tidings of winter.


Yvonne Horton November 20, 2013

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

It's only Snow



The snow flies round in furious flurry,
Though some folks see it as such a worry,
But we walk through it without a hurry,
Because it’s only snow, it’s only snow.

When it settles, the world is white,
So that in the sun, it shines too bright,
But we go out and have a snowball fight,
Because it’s only snow, it’s only snow

It’s so much fun for us to play,
And, then one day, it all melts away,
But, we know it will come back another day,
Because it’s only snow, it’s only snow.


Tuesday, October 22, 2013

The Tides of Change


A change is coming…

Slowly,
It disturbs the air,
Like a supple breeze
In early spring
Sifting over a sill  
Of an open window.

A change is coming…

Quietly,
It advances on tiptoe
In soft stocking feet
Barely making a sound
Like a whispered secret
Delivered in a dream.

A change is coming…

Unseen,
It hides in shadow,
Occasionally caught
Like a flash of light
In the corner of an eye
It shines bright, then flits away.

A change is coming…

Secretly,
But with all its stealth,
I am aware that it’s there
And with that knowledge
I keep moving forward
As I begin to prepare.


Yvonne Horton

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Along the Shore

The lake echoes waves that melt to the shore
To deluge with fine sand, soggy green seaweed,
Slippery smooth pebbles and the petite shells
Of tiny crustaceans, their edges sharp as glass
Shine white to glint silver sparkling in the sun.
Deadfall, now long smooth driftwood logs
Scatter, inland to rest solid in higher sand
Like pews set in nature’s vast holy ground
To serve as seats for the weary who wander the shore.



Willows

Breezes drift soft as whispers
Through the branches of the willows
To send their wispy tresses in motion
That mesmerizes observers to stillness


Tuesday, July 23, 2013

A Twisted Gap in Time

She tripped over a wrinkle in the liquid realm of sleep
And fell through the whirlwind within her mind’s eye.

She landed hard in a carnival of a twisted gap in time
Where the sure fantasy of her na├»ve adolescent life’s view
Bled to the raw horror of a deadly untamed reality.

For in this world the Dragons breathed their death breath of fire
So that where forests once stood tall in their immaculate majesty
Now stretched nothing but a barren land of ash, a crimson molten pyre.

The air swirled to leave a dank dark dust that drowned out the light of day
While hot embers raked the air like rain that fell to burn beneath her feet.

From all around her wild whispers rose to red ragged screams
That tore through the silken sound of her silent night of dreams. 

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Summer Visitors

The inspiration for this poem comes from one of my Mom’s ‘Memory Stories’ and took place during the late 1920’s to early 1930’s.

Summer Visitors

They came during the months of summer, arriving in a caravan
Of wooden wagons laden with canvas, furniture, and pots, and pans
That clanged the song of their arrival as they moved up the dirt road.
Horses of black, and brown and spotted grey pulled the wagons
While the new ponies of spring followed behind.

Papa always let them camp on our land and supplied food for their stay
In turn, they helped to work the farm and gave Papa ponies in trade;
And our neighbors would come from miles around to have their fortunes told.
Although not relations, Mama insisted we gave them proper honor,
And spoke with respect, calling them Uncle Barney, Aunt Mary and Uncle Jim.

In the evenings, while we sat in a circle around their campfires,
They sang songs from their home country, so many miles away
Accompanied by mandolins, guitars, fiddles, and tambourines.
And as the red and orange flames danced and crackled
They told stories of ghosts, and shift-changers, and apparitions.

When the second big war came, Papa sold the farm,
And I went away to another city for school.
From that time on, our summer visitors ceased to come,
And there were times I wondered where they’d gone.
But, to this day I can still see them in my mind’s eye coming along our road.
And I will always remember the songs they sang and the stories they told.


Sunday, May 26, 2013

Nightmares

Down the dry walls of a hollow grave
A phantom speaks in solemn whispers
Cracking the stones of nevermore
To seek out the lives once lost to save.

Long, dark shadows rise to roam the ruins
To merge with memories of long dead corpses
Forming to fashion forgotten gossamer ghosts
That clear the cobwebs from cluttered coffins.

Demons dance in circles, their red eyes ablaze.
Ghouls scream their threats that split the night
To summon the vampires, werewolves, and trolls
That emerge in mist to drown the moon in haze.

Then all at once, monsters shrink back in fear
They cringe as an angelic song surrounds them.
And from the sky shimmering faerie dust falls,
Quelling the nightmare to let the dawn shine clear. 


Deer Tales, This Week's Highlight

It was an unusual week. First, I am dog sitting, which completely changed my usual schedule. I am awake a couple of hours earlier in the morning and fall asleep earlier in the evening, but I adjusted well to this change. Massey (the dog) is a four year-old Standard Poodle (see pic below) who loves to go for walks, play ball, and keep watch over the neighborhood from the front door. I set a chair in front of the door so that she can keep watch comfortably.




The big excitement this week came on Friday. I let Massey out in the backyard first thing in the morning while I prepared her breakfast. Massey soon discovered she was not alone in the yard when a deer stood up in the tall grass. When I saw the deer, I went to the front gate, both to make sure it was closed (which it was) and to call Massey to the front yard so that she didn't have to pass the deer to come back into the house. The deer must have jumped the gate to get in the yard and I knew she was there to have her baby as she visited last year with the same intention. She must feel safe and secure there as it is completely fenced in and there is tall grass to make a nice bed. I got a couple of good pics of her early in the day...


I checked on the deer throughout the morning. She would stand for a bit, and then lay down for awhile in the tall grass. Finally, there was a fawn. I could not get close enough to get a clear picture as, of course Mama Deer was very protective. Then, about an hour after the new arrival, I went out to check and there was another fawn. Yes, twins! Again, I took a couple of pictures, but nothing too clear. 


Around 5 pm, Mama deer decided to relocate. I opened the gate earlier so that she could leave when she was ready. Before she left with her new babies, I got a couple of picks of one of the fawns...




Apparently, this deer finds my yard the best place to birth her young. Next spring I will keep the gate open for her and keep watch for her return visit. I am looking forward to seeing the little family around the neighborhood. I might even get some more pictures!



  

Saturday, May 25, 2013

The Life of Spirits

There are spirits that hide
Within the mists
Of days gone by
Forever dwelling in the past
Never seeking the days to come

There are spirits that writhe
Drowning in the pain
The suffering, the wrath
Of their life’s worst experiences
Never seeking to escape

There are spirits that rejoice
Swelling in the joy
The elation, the bliss
Content in their existence
Never seeking for more

And then there are those spirits
That encompass it all
Embracing each occurrence
Both the delightful and the dire
And even the mundane
As an adventure in their journey
Always seeking the abundance

That only living can bring.


Saturday, May 18, 2013

Ula


This is Ula, my mom's Seeing Eye Dog. Ula is also trained as a therapy dog and travels with my mom to visit residents  of nursing homes twice a week. 

Ula

Ula is a gentle soul
Who is always there
To say hello
To anyone she feels
Might need
The comfort
Of a friend.



Friday, May 17, 2013

Quake


The Earth moved this morning.
It was a single tiny tremor
Lasting only for a few moments,
But just the same
I felt the ground give way
Deep beneath my feet.

Thursday, May 09, 2013

As Peaceful Warriors


On any average day we see
Shocking visions of violence
Carried out within the World
Human against human, against nature,
Against Earth
            That startles the serenity
Of the calm mind
            To bring flames of anguish
Searing deep to permeate
The stillness of one’s Soul

As peaceful Warriors
We must stand strong
Fierce in solid rigidity
To protect, to preserve, to shield
The innocent, the defenseless, the fragile.

As Peaceful Warriors
We must expose the intentions
Of those hell bent and driven
On greed, on power, on control
Those who delight in the destruction,
The suffering, the annihilation
Of the natural balance
The splendor, the blessings
Of all things living

As Peaceful Warriors
We must stand together as one
To defeat with civil defiance
The unconscionable violence
Committed against our Universe 

Wednesday, May 08, 2013

When Struck with a Clumsy Attack Retreat

Sometimes, I am extremely clumsy. Today was one of those days. Luckily, my clumsy attack was kept to one room of the house, the kitchen. I should have retreated after I broke the second glass, but no, I had to go on to make oatmeal raisin cookies and spilled flour on the floor. A moment later, an egg joined the flour when it slipped out of my hand. Then after dinner, (which was a gooey but very tasty casserole of ground beef, mushrooms, onions, peas, with a cream of mushroom soup gravy served over mashed potatoes) I separated four additional servings into containers for freezing. Upon opening the freezer door a canister containing brown sugar (that I apparently didn't set back far enough on top op the fridge) fell down and knocked one of the containers of gooey casserole out of my had to splash its contents all over the kitchen floor. Needless to say, my kitchen was now a disaster. I cleaned up the floor, but I decided to leave the dishes until tomorrow. I am now on the sofa and plan only to read this evening.

And so, my lesson for the day is that when first presented with a clumsy attack Stop! Retreat! Even if it means having a pizza delivered for dinner and staying on the sofa for the rest of the day or evening or both. My home will survive a day of the lazys, but may not survive a day of the clumsys.

Sunday, May 05, 2013

Questioning


Pelted with cumbersome questions
The answers that come are reluctant
And so guesses entrance our senses
With stray murmurs that float like smoke
To map our reality until our lives
Become as dense as cement.


Saturday, May 04, 2013

An Excerpt from a Story Unknown

It is an interesting and sometimes frustrating journey when writing scenes to story when you have no idea where the story begins, where it's going, or where it will end.  That is my experience as of late.  I am suddenly hit with a scene and have to sit down to write it. The story is slowly building itself and I can't wait to see how it will begin and end.  The following is an excerpt of a scene that came to me today. Hope you like it...

An Excerpt from a Story Unknown


Without any conscious intention of doing so, I stepped off the path and began to walk through the thick stand of trees that stood as a wall to the forest.  The air was cool amid the trees and the heady odor of rich soil and green growth seemed to enclose my body and permeate my soul to make me a part of, instead of an intruder to the forest.  The light of the sun dimmed by the leaves danced shadows of light across the forest’s floor as a light breeze tickled the tips of the treetops. 
I walked forward letting my instinct lead the way to my unknown destination.  It was an uphill climb and treacherous at times with tangled thick roots that threatened to trip me to a fall.  A flash of fear gripped me for a moment, as I thought of the climb back down and imagined falling down through these trees to end in a pile broken of bones and torn flesh, left to die unfound for several days, or weeks, or even years.  
I shook the thought from my mind and continued on, glancing up to see if the end of my climb was visible.  There was no end that I could see with my eyes, but I could feel the ground beneath my feet growing steeper.  My ankles and calves ached with my efforts until I slipped to my knees, my hands clutching at the thick roots to pull me onward. Soon, I was now climbing straight up as though I was scaling the face of a cliff. I was beginning to think that there was no end to this mountain, when my right hand grasped solid, flat ground. With a sense of great relief, I reached my left hand up to join my right hand and scrambled my feet to find a sturdy root for a sufficient foothold. My feet slipped a couple of times in my efforts until they found a root strong enough to hold my weight and I stood upright to hoist my body to the flat surface of ground above me.
I lay flat on my stomach without lifting my head to look at my surroundings.  I could smell the dry earth mixed with my own sweat. I was exhausted.  Every inch of my body seemed to scream with pain, and I clutched at the sharp stitch in my side as I concentrated to bring my breathing and heart rate back to a normal rate. 
    

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

A Lazy Day


I feel I am in need of a lazy day
Just to sit and contemplate the sky
Or to sleep like ‘Little Boy Blue’ in the hay
With no thought of the hours passing by
Nor caring about what others might say
To simply  breathe out with a cleansing sigh
And let it all go to come what may


Sunday, April 21, 2013

Let Peace


Let Peace be our passion
To hold with resilience
Against all violence

Let Peace be our mantra
A never-ending tantric song
For it is Peace for which we long.


Friday, April 12, 2013

Change


Change is inevitable,
Be it good or bad.
Sometimes it’s laughable,
Other times sad.

Change can bring strife
To send us down on one knee.
Or it gives us new life,
And fills us with glee

Change can come in disguise
And might force us to bend.
But a word to the wise,
Life’s changes never end.


Wednesday, April 10, 2013

An Opposite Day


Today is one of those days
When the sky is dark as night.
I would rather stay asleep
But, my mind is wide awake.
And so, I take my pencil out
To release the words within.
For writing always lifts me up
And never lets me down.

Wednesday, April 03, 2013

Everything is Possible


Everything is possible,
There is no need to fear,
Take a ride in the dark
For the stars will shine clear.
Open closed windows
To lay bare your heart,
Paint your world with all colors
But, leave out black and grey.
For everything is possible.
Just let the wind steer your way.
Feel the mist of spring showers
Cleanse those visions of dread.
Smell the sweet scent of the flowers
Wrapping the road up ahead.
For everything is possible
Leave the cruel storms behind,
Let the sun light your day.
Clasp hands with your dream
To keep it clear in your mind.
For everything is possible
Let your dreams take you away.


Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Covered in Projects


The last couple of weeks and the next few weeks ahead are busy times for me.  Not in a whirlwind, unfocused way, rather this is an engaged, concentrated, set to work on projects both old and new kind of way. 

I continue to compile stories for the memoir that now (I am excited to report) has a working title: “Visions of My Life: My Mother’s Memory Book.” In addition, I am writing new poetry that I plan to publish as a collection.  As many of you are aware, writing, like reading can take over your life.

Speaking of reading, my Kindle is overflowing with so many books to read that at one time I would have stacked in an uneven pile on my bedside table. While I still love the feel of a book in my hand, I have to admit that my Kindle is very convenient and less messy. Like my laptop, my Kindle is a daily companion.

I am working on several projects for the coming warm weather of spring and summer.  Last year I accumulated a quite large collection of clay pots and trays that I am painting and decorating. As all of these were previously used they need a good cleaning and then have to have 2-3 coats of sealer applied before I can start with the painting.  Also, I picked up a few old wooden bird houses and feeders from garage sales last year. Some of these need minor repair, and all of them need cleaning, and sanding before I can begin to paint and decorate them. These projects cover my work counter, which is a good thing because when work is in front of me I have more incentive to get it done.

The next few weeks will find me working outside for a couple of hours each day.  The yard and the porch need a good cleaning out and I am sure the winter months added some repair work.  I will need to get help with some of this work, as my wrist will not take too much pressure since I crushed it a few years ago. I want to get an herb garden growing this year. Some of the herbs from a previous garden still come up every year, but not very many and these need some care.  I generally start plants from seed and begin them in the house.  The flats are ready to go, so I only have to wait for the final frost to come and go. Our days here are in the 40s but our nights still drop below freezing, so planting won’t begin for at least a couple of weeks.

I still have a backlog of tables and chairs to refinish and decorate along with some empty frames to fill with patterns for the ongoing Ode to the Quilt project. I have to admit that I  did not do much of this work over the past winter. In fact, I was very lax in the art department.  Winter makes me lazy.

Well, that’s about it for this post. Thanks so much for stopping by. ~Yvonne~

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Marching Into Spring


It is difficult to express the extent of my happiness that the month of February is behind us for another year.  Although it is the shortest of calendar months, I always feel that it is the longest in time. For me, this squeezed in month of days feels like an entire month of Mondays.

While March still brings cold weather and snow, it also brings the first day of spring.  More than the first day of January, the twenty or twenty-first day of March gives me a feeling of a new year. Spring is a time of new beginnings. The earth awakens from its long winter’s sleep to stretch and sigh, and yes, occasionally it hits the snooze alarm. While that is sometimes frustrating, we must remember that it is only a snooze.  With spring comes the song of birds from the very tiny to the larger geese, ducks, and swans.  They build their nests in preparation for raising new families. The trees begin to dress in tiny buds along their stems, like pulling on their undergarments before they deck out to full dress.  The longer days shed sun to warm the earth and flowers pop their heads out of the rich soil to add color to the awakening world.  Snow gives way to snow and melts the ice of ponds and streams. Wind raises waves across the lake and brings winter’s deadfall that will feed the fire of summer’s bonfires along with the larger logs that will serve as new seats where we will sit watch the sailboats skim the edge of the horizon.

Yes, March brings spring with the promise of new beginnings, of new hope, and new goals. It is my time to celebrate!

Thanks for stopping by ~Yvonne~

Monday, March 04, 2013

Free Spirits aren't Still (Final Revision)

This is a final revision of a poem I wrote some years ago. I pull it out every so often and revise it, however, I was never quite satisfied with it. This version is the final revision, and I feel very good with the outcome. So, here it is, I hope you enjoy it...


Free Spirits Aren't Still

Life day to day
Does not lend to us;
It just molds us
Into everyone else.
It kills our spirit
And it makes us forget.

But we will never forget;
We tell ourselves, "don't"
For if we have not yet,
Then we know that we won't,
As we strive to remember
That free spirits aren't still.

Some don't forget
But yet become bitter
They resent all they've gained, 
Much accomplished in vain,
Allowing them nothing
Within their realized dream.
They lose hold of their center  
And cannot get back.            
That won't happen to us;
We will never lose track.

Though we talk everyday
To reveal through words
That we dare not say.
Yet, we give it our best,
Always fearing the worst.
While we yearn for the sun,
To live our life everyday,
And, we armor ourselves;
For we know what life is…
Always easier said, than done.

Moves need to be made;
We believe it’s our time.
It’s a feeling we get,
It wears on our minds,
And it makes us aware.

So we prepare for the change,
And we hope it comes soon.
For there's much more than this
And we need to have room,
For it's just not enough
To simply exist.

Yet, we are here right now,
And now that we are,
Will we be here forever? 
Always so close
Yet so far?

Yes, time takes its turns
And our life's seasons change.
When we sense we're alone,
We tend to cling to each other.
And as life moves us along,
We don't dare look down,
As we remind to remember
Free spirits aren't still.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Peering Through the Knothole


Peering through the knothole
I see the light of day
Shining silver along
Bright vertical lines
To crease the grains
From black to grey.

Peering through the knothole
I see the world outside
In the circle of a pinpoint
That illuminates
And brings new life
To the vacant darkness
Of my small and lowly cave.

My Thoughts on "The Casual Vacancy" by J. K. Rowling


After much anticipation, I finally acquired a copy of “The Casual Vacancy” by J. K.Rowling.  During my wait, I avoided reading any reviews or comments about the book, as I did not want to have any outside influence cloud my view or spoil my reading. Having read Rowling’s Harry Potter series, I expected to get lost in the story and to meet and connect to new characters.  However, that was not the case. This is not to say that the book was not good, rather it was not what I expected.

I would not label it as an epic novel, per-say.  Instead, I would label this book more as a social/political view of a small community, which falls into social and political chaos after the sudden death of Councillor Barry Fairbrother. At first, it is difficult to keep the characters in the story straight as to who’s who. In fact, I was tempted to make a list of the characters with notes as to how each relates to the other. As well, I found it difficult to connect to the characters as I would in most novels, as there is no real individual background story told for any of them. All of the characters are depicted within the context of a short time period, beginning with the death of Barry Fairbrother and ending with the election of a new Councillor. However, that is not to say that the characters are not brutally realistic in their actions and the outcomes of their actions.

Overall, this book is an intelligent, artful, creative, and sometimes comical read. I would expect to see it listed academically as assigned reading, particularly in a class dealing with the Social Sciences.  Now that I have read the novel once through, I know what to expect.   It is worth reading, and worth reading again.

Thanks for stopping by. ~Yvonne~

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Restoration


I come to sit
            In the Sacred Circle.
In solitude
            I seek, I meditate,
I explore my Soul
            To eradicate
The structures within
            That seek to restrict
The path set before me.

In my mind’s eye I wander
Through the past
Of vast wastelands
To seek the old bones
That feel smooth to the touch,
Yet, are solid as stone.
Though bleached white with time,
They send shadowed reflection,
Like faint ripples that shimmer
To seem silver in sand.

I set to the task
            To gather together
Each piece important
            To the whole.
I lay them bare before me
            Building from the beginning
To complete the circle,
            To restore the old life
To regain the new.
            For in the continuing circle
There is no end.

Friday, February 15, 2013

Living with Word Addiction


I freely admit it: I am addicted to words.  I think most of us who write have the same addiction to one extent or another. Words have power and the more words we know, then the more power we have as writers. The two most important references in my writer’s toolbox are a dictionary and a thesaurus.  I could not write without them. However, my addiction to words goes beyond the norm.

My infatuation with words started early in life and began with my learning to read. I read everything I found that had words, from books to magazines to comic books. It is true that I did not understand all I read, and there were many times when I came across words that I could not readily sound out to pronounce. My parents, whom I suspect were weary of my spelling out words for them to pronounce and give definitions, added a dictionary to my bookshelf when I was around six years-old. It was not a child’s dictionary; rather it was a regular grown-up Webster’s Dictionary. After bestowing me with this fascinating tome of words, if I attempted to spell out a word for their appraisal, their answer to me was, “Go and look it up in your dictionary.”

Eventually, I began to keep notebooks of words and their definitions, and later, when I discovered the thesaurus, I added their synonyms. Eventually, I transferred the words in the notebooks to index cards, with words on one side and their definitions and synonyms listed on the other side. I still do this, and yes, I admit that hoarding words is a weird obsession. However, I find that as a writer it is an obsession with an advantage as words inspire more words, which eventually lead to prose and verse and before you know it, you are writing essays, articles, poems and even novels.  

And so, dear friends, I do not apologize for my word addiction, and I do not foresee a rehabilitation program in my future. However, I feel that you, my readers, should have forewarning that anyone could acquire this obsession.  There are millions of words out there in the open just waiting to drag you into their world and there is no escape…

Keep on reading; keep on writing and thanks for stopping by. ~Yvonne~ 

Friday, February 01, 2013

Writer’s Overload


It was a week of essay ideas, (too many to count), and I cannot seem to focus on any one subject to complete one satisfactorily.  So, I am writing this blurb just to let you know I am still here in spirit, even though I don’t have anything written to post of much interest that is complete.

This is not exactly writer’s block; it is more like writer’s overload. In some ways, I would rather experience the block, but then again… Currently my notebook is overflowing with scribbled notes of words, lines, and vague ideas that pop into my head in random order. I am not sure where any of these are going but I am confident they will all come together, if not separately, in the end.  

I think that writer’s overload might stem from media overload. As I had the flu for a couple of weeks, I spent much of my time reading and listening to audio books, watching a few television series and movies on Netflix, and surfing the internet. All of these activities cause me to have deep thoughts on all sorts of subjects ranging from emotional and psychological conflict (not necessarily my own) to the state of the world and the environment. As if this were not enough to keep my mind in a whirlwind, I then begin worrying over catching up on housework and the home repairs that I will have to work on when spring comes. Yes, all these thoughts together are an excessive amount of subjects for one writer to have dancing through his or her mind.

For now, my only cure is to remove myself from the influx of media and concentrate on an artistic project or begin a major housecleaning project. Between these two, not much to anyone’s surprise, I am leaning more towards the artistic avenue. Anyway, either one of these activities will organize the mass of thoughts that are a disorganized jumble in my head. Before long, every idea, thought, word and line will find its own cubby file. I won’t have to work on it, it will just happen on its own. Writing is not always easy, but it is good to know that the clean up of writer’s overload is a just a matter of alternate focus.

Thanks for stopping by… ~Yvonne~


Tuesday, January 22, 2013

A January Update


I have not had a chance to write much since the beginning of the year. The flu took hold of me just after the New Year and decided to settle in for a long visit. I am still a little stuffy, but feel much better than I did earlier this month.

The weather here is very unusual. We usually have a good amount of snow and cold at a steady pace starting in December that lasts throughout until the middle of March. However, the temperatures in December and during most of January never reached much below 300 F with only one good snowfall. In fact, the overall temperatures were in the 400’s – 500’s with some high 600 F days thrown in for good measure. This past weekend it was near 500 F and today we are in the single digits at 80 F. It is no wonder that the flu season has hit so hard.

I am thinking about taking a photography class sometime this year, as photography is more or less one of my hobbies. I don’t know how well I will be at this, but I feel the need to explore the possibilities. Also, I am lately writing more poetry and I feel I should submit some of my work to a few poetry contests this year. Of course, this means I will have to refrain from posting all of my work to my blogs. I want to mention here that I have started posting my poetry to a new blog here: http://bookendings.wordpress.com/. I am using that blog specifically for poetry, but I will still maintain my poetry heading here as well. I am posting one or two poems per week over at http://wordpress.com as I don’t want to overwhelm new followers with 35-40 posts (or more) all at once. 

Well, that’s all I have to say for today. I hope everyone is well and keeping warm in these winter months. Until next time, Thanks for stopping by… Yvonne