#fullmoonsocial

Manly Hearts and Banshee’s Croons*

Moon rising, full
Flashing pikes, a thousand
Singing river, a mass of men
Mud-walled cabins, eyes watching
Every foe and traitor, death
For freedom, hoorah
Moon rising, full

*based upon the Irish song of rebellion, “The Rising of the Moon”

Full Moon Social 2017

When Clouds Eclipse the Eclipse I Give in to My Frustration and Write a Bad Poem About the Eclipsed Eclipse in Iambic Pentameter (I Hope) and in Quatrains That Have no Rhyme—or Reason—but That’s to be Expected from a Poseur Poet Who Might be Better at This if She Were to Practice More Rather Than Dabble

 

I have waited all day for the full moon

To rise, to see the promised penumbra.

I have checked my Star Walk app, eager for

The bright orb to rise above the Blue Ridge.

 

I have watched, too, the thickening clouds pile.

Sky Walk says the eclipse has started but

My eyes have no proof, empirical or

Otherwise. Once I see it, will it be

 

In shadow? No devouring beast taking

Bites. Will it be blood red like the others

I’ve seen? Once I watched through a telescope.

That moon wasn’t a full snow moon, instead

 

A gibbous one, an easy mistake. Blood

Red and I understood why ancestors

Cowered in fear. Blood on the moon. Surely

A moonwalker cut himself there but no,

 

That came back to earth trapped in a space suit.

I have waited patiently to see this

Astronomical marvel, and thinning

Clouds promise what to my wondering eyes

 

Should appear but a four point five billion

Year old extraterrestrial. The same

One gazed on by Lucy and some long dead

Neanderthal whose DNA rides in

 

My viscera. Maybe that’s why I can’t

Look away from that shared experience

Across millennia. I’m still waiting.

I have waited all day for the full moon.


Addendum

clouds like the red sea
parted
penumbral eclipse sighted

Writerly News!

One Contest Win; One Second Place

I learned last week that my short story, “Reset,” about a father and daughter who set out to prove the Warren Commission wrong, had won first place in the Blue Ridge Writers Golden Nib Fiction Contest. “Reset” is one of those stories, which in the writing, becomes something close to you, and I was so proud it won this contest.

I’d always said I wasn’t going to be one of those writers who milks her dysfunctional family for material, but almost every story I’ve written that’s won a contest or been published has had some aspect of my family in it. The best laid plans…

“Reset” now goes into the state-wide Golden Nib contest, and I have my fingers crossed. It’s a good story. It will also appear in the ongoing anthology, Skyline 2017, which should be out in December. (I’ll be on a Virginia Festival of the Book panel in 2017 about the anthology–if the panel proposal is accepted. I have my fingers crossed for that, too.)

The poem I wrote about here a few weeks ago, “Verses for Orlando,” won second place (second-freaking-place!) in the Blue Ridge Writers Golden Nib Poetry Contest. I. Had. A. Poem. Come. In. Second!

It won’t go to the state-wide contest, but it will also appear in Skyline 2017. I. Will. Have. A. Poem. Published!

I’m very excited. You may have noticed.

How about you? Do you use things from your life and background in your writing? Are they some of your best stories or not?

Unexpected Praise

MNE FCEight months or so ago, a friend from UU bought my novella, My Noble Enemy. Her husband was about to have surgery, and she wanted something to read in the waiting room. I warned her it was about a man dying of cancer, but she said that was okay. A week later, I learned her husband had unexpectedly died of complications from the surgery, and I was worried that my novella was the worst possible thing she could have read. I figured she probably hated it and me for writing it.

When she returned to UU the week after her husband’s funeral, she sought me out and told me reading My Noble Enemy had helped her through her husband’s last hours and that it had given her comfort because the character in it who died was surrounded by the people he loved and who loved him. I was stunned and humbled.

Yesterday, all these months later, she told me the story still resonated with her as she continues to undergo her grief process, that she still needed the message of loyalty and compassion I wrote.

I am still stunned and humbled by such praise, and it’s the best thing anyone has ever said about my work. I’ve always said I don’t write for money or acknowledgement but because I have stories I want to tell, that need to be told. That story was the right one at the right time for at least one person, and that’s all I need.

How has something you’ve written resonated in an unexpected way? I’d love to know.