新年好
Feliz Año Nuevo
Nouvelle Année Heureuse
Nuovo Anno Felice
С Новым годом
明けましておめでとう
Καλή χρονιά
Ano Novo Feliz
새해 복 많이 받으세요
Happy New Year
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Fieralingue
I received an email from Anny Ballardini of NarcissusWorks today. She invited me to submit a sample of my poetry to Poet's Corner at the absolutally gorgeous Web Site Fieralingue.
Never have I had a response so quickly!! And, a few hours later, just like friggin' magic, there I is -- Laura Heidy with not just one but a even dozen poems!!
Thanks, Anny!! What a wonderful way to end one year and begin another!!!
Never have I had a response so quickly!! And, a few hours later, just like friggin' magic, there I is -- Laura Heidy with not just one but a even dozen poems!!
Thanks, Anny!! What a wonderful way to end one year and begin another!!!
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
How A Woman's Eyes Grow Narrow
The earth is cold. A woman’s tears
are ice upon her cheeks. She fears
hot words, rough hands, and the threat
of a careless cigarette held
too close against her flesh. She’s small.
She’s old. She's skin and bones
with hips no wider than a boy’s.
She fears crude swastikas, white hoods
and men of every race. She keeps
within herself a litany
of epithets like a filthy
twisted handkerchief tucked hidden
in her breast. She's safe nowhere.
She hears the whispered jewbitchwhore
against her ear, behind her back,
inside the store, across the street
where spit seared scars beneath her hair.
There's no relief, she seldom sleeps.
When she was young her eyes were wide,
and clear, and hungry in her face,
but every time she raised her head
the world fed her hate.
are ice upon her cheeks. She fears
hot words, rough hands, and the threat
of a careless cigarette held
too close against her flesh. She’s small.
She’s old. She's skin and bones
with hips no wider than a boy’s.
She fears crude swastikas, white hoods
and men of every race. She keeps
within herself a litany
of epithets like a filthy
twisted handkerchief tucked hidden
in her breast. She's safe nowhere.
She hears the whispered jewbitchwhore
against her ear, behind her back,
inside the store, across the street
where spit seared scars beneath her hair.
There's no relief, she seldom sleeps.
When she was young her eyes were wide,
and clear, and hungry in her face,
but every time she raised her head
the world fed her hate.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
New Endeavor
Since I can't seem to write poetry anymore I've decided to tackle a new writing project. I've agreed to take over the editorship of our currently defunct condo newsletter, both hard copy and online edition.
I know very little about writing and even less about editing. Dan occasionally edits my poetry - much to my dismay most times, but that's about the extent of my knowledge as to how it's done.
I'm looking forward to it, however. It seems like a great opportunity to get involved in the community I live in as well as broadening my written word horizons.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Meanwhile...
I know very little about writing and even less about editing. Dan occasionally edits my poetry - much to my dismay most times, but that's about the extent of my knowledge as to how it's done.
I'm looking forward to it, however. It seems like a great opportunity to get involved in the community I live in as well as broadening my written word horizons.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Meanwhile...
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Philosophy 101
If you move far away, to a place where you know no one and no one knows you, does the person you used to be still exist?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
