This & That & The Other Thing – Update – And a Poem by Hunter Painter

THIS

Just a quick update to let you folks know I’m still here, though I’ve had a lot on my plate of late. Between endless appointments for this or that and some annoying health issues to deal with,  I’m continuing to run behind, but I do think I see a dim glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. Can’t wait for things to return to normal.

THAT

I know I’ve promised I’d be writing on my Blog Break days, but so far, that isn’t working out as well as I’d hoped. (See above for reasons why.) However, I’m not giving up on my Cole, Cole, & Dupree novella. I’m determined to finish that, and very hopeful to make more progress in the next week or two. Don’t count me out, yet. My brain is jam-packed with ideas for this one, and somehow, I WILL get them down on paper. (Well, down in a Word document, anyway! 😀 )

THE OTHER THING

Was going through some clutter today, trying in vain to get my desk area organized and useful again, and I found this little poem I came up with while working on Finding Hunter. Hunter Painter is a writer. One who marches to a different drummer, as many writers do, but also one who has been in love with Willow Greene since high school, though he never had the nerve to explore his feelings. (Except in his dreams, of course, or scribbled on scraps of paper here and there.)

This is a poem he wrote while in 11th grade, though he never showed it to a soul. I debated including it in my book, but ended up not doing so. It does, however, appear on the cover, if you look closely enough at the page shown there. When I saw it this morning, I decided to post it for you today. This is the first time I’ve ever shared it, and I hope you enjoy taking a look.

Emeralds and Silver

No emerald pulled from
  darkest earth holds
    light so warm, so
      full of life, as the
          green in those eyes.

No precious metal
  curled or curved in
    filigrees of man’s design
      offers half the sheen of that
        spun-silver hair.

Who would trade her
  incandescent glow for
    emeralds and silver
      lonely and cold,
        joyless, both, next to her
          bright sparkle.

~~~

And on that note,
I’ll get back to work.
Enjoy the rest of your day, everyone!

#Poetry – #Events – #Updates

I’m pretty sure it’s not feeling like spring yet in much of the country, but down here in Florida, the weather is blissfully cool, without being cold, and perfect for gardening or relaxing outside. For the next few weeks, we can enjoy cool nights in the mid-40s and pleasant days in the 70 to 82 degree range. That’s cause for celebration as far as I’m concerned, so I decided to share a poem with you. This one has never made an appearance before, but I’m thinking of including it in a new poetry collection at some point. Hope you enjoy it.

POETRY

Outside or In

I may go out to the garden today,
Where the sun is bright in the watered silk sky,
And a ruby gem flits from tree to tree,
While a cardinal woos his love with burbling songs,
And goes about the business of building a nest,
Promising new life in the weeks ahead.

I may go out to the garden today.
The dog days of summer are drawing near,
Threatening to bake the roses,
Scorch the herbs, and wither the grass,
In a sweltering, impossible heat,
Which will trap me inside by the end of June.

I may go out to the garden today,
To sip icy tea from a sweating glass,
Catching my breath between the chores,
Pruning and weeding, and raking the paths,
Racing the pages of the calendar,
As they flip through the last days of spring.

I may go out to the garden today.
Or maybe I’ll laze indoors, instead,
Beside the window, in a comfy chair,
The stack of books nearby a siren call,
Luring me to open their covers,
And visit those gardens blooming inside.
                                                    ~ Marcia Meara ~


EVENTS

Also wanted to share some upcoming events with you. Just as a heads up for anyone in the Central Florida area, I’m going to be getting back to my wildlife talks at both of my venues next month. If you’re in the area, would love to see you join us. All talks are free and run from 1:00pm to 3:00pm,(tea luncheons excluded).  March schedule as follows:

March 5 from 1:00-3:00 at Enterprise Museum for a talk on the River of Lakes Heritage Corridor, and taking a look at wildlife habitats along this new Scenic Byway.


March 26 from 11:00 – 1:00 Meet the Author Spring Tea at DeBary Hall , $15 per person, reservations required by 3/18. I’ll be doing a Reading and a Question and Answer Session, and then we sip tea and dine on delicious sandwiches and desserts! Always a lovely time!

For more info on locations, etc, feel free to email me: mmeara@cfl.rr.com


UPDATES

And last, a quick update on what’s happening around here. I’m continuing to feel a bit better each day, with my energy level gradually getting closer and closer to normal. Though I’m still not ready to take another look at my Riverbend 4 novel, I have started work on my WRR spinoff novella, Cole, Cole, and Dupree. I’ve actually written real words on a Word document, and shared them on my beta blog!  (And I’m happy to report, my readers seem to have liked them, so far.) Therefore, I’m encouraged to think I might actually get this story finished and published in the not-too-distant future. (Fingers crossed!)

I am also ready to start scheduling regular guests again here on The Write Stuff, for #GuestDayTuesdays, and #TenThingsLists. If you’d like to take part in either of these,  email me to see what dates are available. (You can find more info on the header bar at the top of the page, under General Blog Rules and Various Feature Instructions.) I look forward to having some of you visit in the weeks ahead.


And there you have it, folks: Poetry, Events, and Updates! Thanks for reading and have a wonderful Tewe’s Day!

A Wee Thought After a Difficult Week – #Poetry (Sort of)

Ode to a Painted Bunting

A sign.
My heart called out for a sign.
Something to hang onto.
Something to give me hope.
Something to remind me the world can be beautiful,
And people can be kind, generous, and loving.

Just a sign.
Please.
Nothing momentous.
A simple reminder that Life can be good.
That’s all I asked.
All I needed.

And then …
A sudden glimpse of red,
An impossible flash of chartreuse,
A dollop of bluish purple …
There!

Just there, outside my window.
I held my breath, staring in wonder.
How could such a creature even be real?
So tiny and quick, and yet …
So brilliantly magical!
Reminding me of all the beauty in the world.

A sign.
That’s what it was.
And I smiled, at peace again,
And ready to face the day.


Painted buntings have been at my backyard birdfeeder for over 2 weeks now, passing through on their northward migration. I have been in awe every day, as they never stay here this long. (Guess they got the weather report and decided to postpone heading farther north). Last week was a tough one, and I was feeling pretty discouraged, but when I got up today and saw there were still two males and two of the solid green females at my feeder, I realized what a gift I’d been given. A sign, indeed! Better days are ahead! For ALL of us! 💖💖💖

 

#SneakPeek – #Poetry – #Humor

Just thought I’d share a tiny sneak preview with you today, since “GrannySays” got posted a day early. I’m hoping to put together a new book of poetry of various sorts in 2022, and here’s a little something I wrote a few years ago that I suspect will make the cut. Hope you enjoy it!

~~~

Things I Have Learned #1

TV ads we all endure
Proclaim loudly “We have the cure!”
You try it out, and find it’s good,
Why can’t they leave it as they should?
Beware the label “New and Improved,”
It really means you’ve just been scrooved.

~~~

Happy Weekend, Everyone!

October Siege

While it’s still in the high 80s and low 90s down here in the Land of Sunshine, I’m in the mood to celebrate fall and Halloween, so here’s an offering from my book, Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love. Hope you enjoy October Siege!

~~~

October.
The siege begins.
Enemies among us
Everywhere!
With evil grins,
They lurk,
They skulk,
They glare,
Sharp fangs bared.

October.
Hide inside.
Nighttime danger
Everywhere!
With shining eyes,
They menace,
They taunt,
They torment,
Mouths opened wide.

See how they glow!
Deadly, gap-toothed grins
Midst curves of vivid orange!
Silently screaming with devilish glee,
They lounge on nighttime porches,
And march up darkened drives.
Casting yellow light from watchful eyes,
They search for unwary victims,
For slow and easy prey.

Big ones, tall ones,
Skinny ones, or round.
Colored like the fiery sun,
Or the moonlight pallor of alien visitors.
They line up on fence posts,
Stair steps, and windowsills.
Peering out . . . or peering in?
Looking for who?
You!

October.
Watch your step.
They’re back again,
Everywhere!
With wicked intent,
They scheme,
They hunger,
They haunt,
Pumpkins on patrol!

Boo!

#SummerMagic by (ahem) Me! #Excerpt #Review

As summer winds down, I decided to share a poem of mine about a ten-year-old boy enjoying another day camping in the mountains with his dad. This is from my book Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love, and is one of my personal favorites. Hope you enjoy it.

The Rope Swing

Sailing up, up into
Blue summer sky,
Hot rope rough against his hands,
He shouts with joy, and lets go.
For a crystal moment,
He hangs suspended,
Frozen in time
Like a fly in amber.
All awkward angles–
Shoulder blades and
Elbows, and
Knobby knees,
Painted against the sky,
Heart filled with fierce joy.

Dropping, down, down
Into clear green water
Cold on his skin,
He sinks to the silty bottom,
And sits suspended
In an alien world,
Watching the silvered flashes
Of tiny fish darting to and fro,
Startled by his sudden appearance.
I am a fish, too, he thinks,
And holds his breath
As long as he can.

Finally, he rockets up,
Through a stream of
Tickling bubbles,
Breaking the
Surface of the water,
With a loud whoop of
Childish exuberance,
All thoughts of becoming a fish
Forgotten as he
Scrambles out,
Shakes the water from his hair,
And, grinning, hitches up his
Baggy shorts.

He’s ready
To do it all again.
Flying through the summer air,
Dropping into the cold water
To commune with fishes
Silvered in refracted light,
Then leaping to the surface,
A boy of ten once more,
Laughing through an endless summer
Made perfect by a cool green pond,
And an old rope swing.
                                                         by Marcia Meara 

~~~

REVIEW

D.L. Finn

Reviewed in the United States on April 2, 2021

#GuestDayTuesday – Summer Magic by … ME!

#GuestDayTuesday Banner

This could be considered cheating, I suppose, but since I had no one scheduled as a guest today, I decided to feature myself. I started writing poetry as a child of five, believe it or not, and I’ve never lost my love for it. The second book I published, right after Wake-Robin Ridge, was Summer Magic, my little “chapbook” of poetry, and I’d like to tell you a bit about it, if you’ll indulge me.

BLURB:

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love is a collection of contemporary poetry about exactly that–life and love. The first part of the book features poems about the magic a young boy discovers while camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The second part of the book has a sampling of poetry about love, life and death, autumn, and dreams coming true.

~~~

While I truly loved writing the poems featuring my WRR hero, Mac, as a young boy enjoying his summers in my favorite place in the world–the North Carolina mountains–there are several poems in the second part of the book that really came from my heart, too. Today,  I’m going to share the longest of those, a poem that has a bit of an autobiographical nature to it. Hope you enjoy it!

ON THE RIVER

Crystal green flows beneath me,
Leafy arches rise above,
Dip, glide.
Dip, glide.
Slide.

Duckweed parts as I float by.
I wonder where they went,
Those ducks?
Gone overnight, it seems.
Another parting, another loss,
And I slide by,
Under all that green.
Dip, glide.
Dip, glide.

Just there, in deepest shade,
Sleeping emeralds cling.
Tree frogs rest in their
Smooth, damp skins
Waiting for the silver moon.
They’ll open their eyes for the silver moon.
Sleeping now,
As I pass by.
Dip, glide.
Dip, glide.

With arms raised to that same moon,
I once danced along the shore,
Young and wild and full of joy.
Moving to music
That stirred my soul,
And washed in that pale light,
I danced.
Years ago, in that pale, pale light.
I remember it all,
And so much more,
As I slide by.
Dip, glide.
Dip, glide.

A scaled ribbon of vivid lime
Scribbles across my bow,
Curving by in his own silent slide.
I smile at Dickinson’s “narrow fellow”
Tasting the air with his tongue of flame.
I feel no “zero at the bone” for him,
For I have known far worse than he,
And survived.
With a nod of my head,
I pass him, too.
And on I go.
Dip, glide.
Dip, glide.

Time and time and time goes by,
And still, green fronds protect me from above,
Green water lifts me from below,
Carrying me ceaselessly on my way.
Slower, now that Youth is gone,
Yet, sometimes a froth of foam and spray
Reminds me of those early days,
When all the water rushed clear and cold,
And teemed with Promise so bright
You could almost catch it in your hands.
That bubbling spring where it all began,
Now lies so far behind.
Far behind, and long ago,
While I move on.
Dip, glide.
Dip, glide.

Always forward,
One stroke at a time,
The only path from Here to There.
One stroke following another,
And I, all the while,
Still cherish the trees above,
The water below.
I wonder as a turn grows near,
What adventures wait beyond the bend?
Will they make my heart beat fast again?
How many shimmering curves lie before me yet?
How long does my river flow?
Dip, glide.
Dip, glide.
Dip, glide.
Slide.

~~~

Buy Summer Magic HERE

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MYSTERY, SUSPENSE,
AND THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT

IMG_5272 smaller

Marcia Meara lives in central Florida, just north of Orlando, with her husband of over thirty years and four big cats.

When not writing or blogging, she spends her time gardening, and enjoying the surprising amount of wildlife that manages to make a home in her suburban yard. She enjoys nature. Really, really enjoys it. All of it! Well, almost all of it, anyway. From birds, to furry critters, to her very favorites, snakes. The exception would be spiders, which she truly loathes, convinced that anything with eight hairy legs is surely up to no good. She does not, however, kill spiders anymore, since she knows they have their place in the world. Besides, her husband now handles her Arachnid Catch and Release Program, and she’s good with that.

Spiders aside, the one thing Marcia would like to tell each of her readers is that it’s never too late to make your dreams come true. If, at the age of 69, she could write and publish a book (and thus fulfill 64 years of longing to do that very thing), you can make your own dreams a reality, too. Go for it! What have you got to lose?

marciameara16@gmail.com
Twitter: @marciameara

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF MARCIA’S BOOKS

Marcia’s Amazon Author Page

Wake-Robin Ridge Book 1
A Boy Named Rabbit: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 2
Harbinger: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 3
The Light: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 4

Swamp Ghosts: A Riverbend Novel
Finding Hunter: Riverbend Book 2
That Darkest Place: Riverbend Book 3

The Emissary: A Riverbend Spinoff Novella
The Emissary 2: To Love Somebody 
The Emissary 3: Love Hurts

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love