Writing her dreams
I follow her in.
She craves the old path
Coyote, crow, fox.
The tricksters are at it
© Angela Bigler 2013
Had I been adequately prepared for your visit,
I would have…
Plucked the weeds from my garden
And replaced them with budding beauties,
Invited you to sit on a soft carpet of moss,
Shaded by growing greenery,
Planned a picnic of your favorite delicacies from distant lands.
I could not arrange an appropriate setting,
Yet you made yourself at home among weeds and unpainted boards.
You refused refreshment and placed my needs ahead of your own.
Like our Lord, you came to serve.
Long after sunglow, I’ll savor your sensitivity.
~Nancy J. Ressler
To be woman
Is the flowing strength
This caring for others
Breaks my heart
But lifts me
And my curves
What is different
Is my voice
More like a song
Than a masculine gruff
Not that I can’t growl
And bare my teeth
But my soft folds
And my million thoughts
A certain way that contrasts
Yin from yang
To be woman
Is the pulse
No matter if her
That she tends
© Angela Bigler 2013
Sometimes, when my mind is busy and spinning and sparking a notch too fiery, I tell it to be quiet. When that doesn’t work (that never works), I try to ignore it and find myself reading (but not quite retaining) self-help or reminders on post-its with advice for myself from myself.
If my mind is still reeling, unable to settle, I will write a list of the pulls fragmenting my attention. What books I want to read or research that needs to be done. There are scenes to be fleshed out. A page of displaced sentences impatiently awaiting adoption. Phone calls to suffer, people to connect with and appointments to schedule (the dentist – you must!). Not to mention the numerous life changes necessary for perfection.
The list expands into a fury of unrelated obligations and reminders about posture, forgiveness and potential dog behaviorists. I write a list of things to list on separate lists, and now I’ve really (totally) lost it, for underneath lies the compulsion to achieve it all instantaneously. It is the habitual inner crusade that drives all thoughts together into an impossible tangle of immediate demands. Now I am caught (again).
What I long for then, is to reset the mess and get clean. I seek out my haiku book. The white one with the fresh, spring green pear on the cover and open to any page. I carefully read one three-line set and float into simplicity and calm, thankful for respite and peace.
The time it takes –
For snowflakes to whiten
The distant pines
by Lorraine Ellis Harr
Feathers which have fallen at my feet
Just another way to talk to myself in public...
A blog that will explore various topics designed to educate, entertain, engage, encourage, and empower both English-speaking and Spanish-speaking readers via writing and audio-video expression.The primary vehicle of self- expression will be Poetry and Essays but other forms of writing, including fiction, will make an appearance from time to time.
Only the Sense of the Sacred can Save us
Nurturing the Curious & Creative Mind
Literary News, Reviews, and Events in Central PA
Nail Your Novel - Writing, publishing and self-publishing advice from a bestselling ghostwriter and book doctor
thoughts on life, love & a bunch of other deep shit
Sexuality in Young Adult Film and Literature
Complex PTSD: The Art & Work of Healing
Quarterly Literature, Speculative and Otherwise
Night Thoughts of a Literary Agent
Author. Speaker. Librarian.
My healing journey.
A wise man says what he has thought about; A fool thinks about what he has said.
Writing by Alan Annand