Today is a day for a guest to have her poetry featured on my blog. Deanie Carter was born in Skippers, Virginia. She is a double jointed contortionist that at 61 years old, performed on television. She has won gymnast competitions and is a cancer survivor who has been writing poetry since she was eight. When she won the Golden Poet Award in 1987, she traveled to Las Vegas to receive it.
Her poetry has been published in Quail Books, Coming Home Magazine, other publications and lately featured in Listen Up! a chapbook that is the result of writing sessions at the Warren County Senior Center, sponsored by the Warren Artist’s Market (WAM). We’re talking North Carolina here.
If I Can, with Love
If I can touch your life with love on this day
Maybe I can be blessed in another way
If I can bring a smile to you
Maybe you’ll be forever blessed, too
If I can bring joy in reaching out to others
Then I will give a message to my
Sisters and brothers
If I can bring words to relax the mind
Maybe you will be glad to see me most anytime
If I can give words of inspiration this day
I know God would want it no other way
If I can do a favor without pay
Maybe I can rest in heaven someday
© Deanie Carter
From the soon-to-be-released: Sitting with a Drunken Sorceress Poems & Prose to Invite You, Excite You & Delight You
About the Cooking. . . .
It isn’t just the actual cooking
it is the joy that flows
from inside me
to overlay every moment
of a meal whether
or special little something.
Sometimes it is making a
from nothing at hand
bringing together foods
like gathering friends
at the table that
blend as well
as the foods upon it.
Sometimes it is creating
a new variation
from an old recipe
at an old photo
with young eyes or
redesigning a room
for different needs.
It is all about creating
a something to be
and it’s about the cooking of it. Arlene S. Bice ©
Writers need writers. Though we ply our craft alone, in between writing sessions, we need other writers. Today, when we cannot gather on sidewalk cafes or in coffee houses, we can come together via the internet. No need to go totally alone in the still-new century.
One recent gathering of writers & poets has pooled talents to present, Sitting with a Drunken Sorceress, Poems & Prose to invite you, excite you, & delight you. This anthology is a collection of poetry & prose from writers across the country; a simmering pot of races, ethnic heritage, age, gender, and seasoning.
You’ll see a smattering of ART, feel the emotions of LIFE, the PASSION roiling around inside us, why we do the WRITING, and the dreams & nightmares of THE UNDER 30 CROWD.
COMING SOON ….VERY SOON, FOR YOUR PLEASURE. SITTING WITH A DRUNKEN SORCERESS $14.95 PLUS $2.00 SHIPPING FOR EACH BOOK ORDERED.
PS: The photo is NOT the Sorceress, it’s my psychic, sleepy cat Lizzie who loves it when I read poetry to her.
Well, apologies to all for not staying in touch. It has been an exceptionally busy two months culminating in a wrap that the mini-series on TV couldn’t have conjured up more.
After driving 400 miles easily and safely from a long weekend in Bordentown, NJ to 6 miles from home at 5 a m a few weeks ago, a big buck ran into the front of my Chevy Tracker. BOOM! His running partner glazed off the side of the car, knocking the back bumper askew. I had been singing at the top of my lung capacity along with Chuck Jackson, relaxed and having a good ole time knowing I was 5 or 6 minutes from home.
Stunned! I was stunned! I deep-down believed that I would never a catastrophe with a deer. Here were two of them! I don’t mind eating them but to harm one is something else. (that makes no sense but there it is) I instantly felt remorse at bringing this guy down. Actually, he flew into the air (in slo mo) and landed somewhere in the field where he came from.
What to do? I’ve never had an accident. It was 5 a m. Who do I call at that hour? I drove about 60 ft. before pulling over to check the tires; to see whether I could drive home or no. One car did come up the road behind me, drove around me and kept on going. He wasn’t in sight when the deer and I collided.
My poor Betsie (car pet name) looked just awful, yet as she has always done, she would get me home okay. I was fine, no pulled muscles or broken anything on me. I was cool, too. No physical harm to anyone except the poor deer. I instantly pleaded for forgiveness. Then I cautiously (a bit late for that?) drove on home hearing the clinks and clanks of items dropping off the car as we limped homeward like the wounded soldier that she was.
Finding a subject to write about comes from the many different things that we look at. It is the seeing what we look at and putting it into words that that makes us writers; like an artist sees objects differently than those who are not artists. They see the greens, yellows, pinks, and blues in a tree trunk where the average person may see only a brown tree trunk.
During a recent writing group session Maggie Chalifoux brought in a couple of her abstract paintings and we all wrote very different responses to them. Our various responses came from seeing the same painting but bringing our own experiences and inner thoughts to the writing piece. This is the poem I wrote to explain what I saw.
Life Magic Through My Eyes
(inspired by a Maggie Chalifoux abstract painting)
As the mist rises up
droplets float down
the world responds
with motion and life
as seasons change
one feeding the other
waters lap the shore
birthing trees and greenery
of days into night
wrapping the earth like
Mother Nature’s loving arms.
Arlene S. Bice ©2013
*** I recently received notice of the new website listed here of a long-time friend, Jyoti Wind, who is an experienced astrologer, shaman, published writing leader and homeopathic consultant. Please check out her website if any of these subjects appeals to you. http://www.jyotiwindastrology.com