A Poem... "Ask"

Ask
by Lia Mack

Can you love yourself, despite yourself
and echo in the night?

Can you take a trip and capture it
and keep it 'till first light?

Will you know no fear and sing it clear,
a rumination to last?

Or wither still, coward filled
and sink away, pass?

Can you love, love, love - sweet love - knowing
there's permanence in the past?

And hallowed be - the future's might,
and walk on toward star last?

Celebrating the Breeze!

I'd like to dedicate this blog post to one of my writer buddies, Carolyn Parsons. Not only has Carolyn (aka: Breeze) published her fist book (ya!)...today is also her Birthday!

Happy Birthday, Breeze!!! :)

If you haven't already, check out her book, Wind Rhymes: Poetry from the Breeze. It's a wonderful compilation of inspirational and practical poetry. Every time I read one of her poems, I feel empowered and lifted, ready to be the change I want to see in the world ;)

Carolyn also turned me onto a free writing course online that I just started. F2K: Fiction Writing for the New Millennium. I'll tell you more about the class once I finish my first assignment (they are small writing assignments given on Wed, due the following Wed, then you submit and critique others and they critique you.) To me, that sounded like fun!

If you're a writer and have yet to find some writing buddies to hang out with - on or off line - get some!!! We're an interesting lot, which means we need to get together with like minded folk once in a while to feel, well, normal ;)

I am very honored to have Carolyn as one of my writer buddies and call her my friend. It's great fun being able to talk openly about characters talking in our head, killing darlings, and building pent houses... Who else could I do that with? ;)

So, here's to the Breeze. Have a great Birthday! And congratulations on your new book :)

One of My Favorite Poems

Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

-- Joyce Kilmer