Eye of the Tiger: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 15

That sound of howling you heard on Monday morning coming from Bucks County, PA was not the sound of White Walkers descending upon one of our scenic castles (seriously, we have a few of them). It was the noise I made when I realized how many things I had to do and how little time I had to do them. One of these things was exercise.

As I’ve mentioned here before, I am working hard at keeping up an exercise routine. Last week was a perfect storm of craziness with my birthday, my dad’s birthday, getting my son home from college, getting the house ready for Passover, putting the house back together after Passover, and NaPoWriMo. Also I have hit the Plateau of Nothingness as far as gains from exercise go. So did I blow off my routine?

Nope. I modified it, getting a little extra in on days I knew would be less intense, cutting myself a little slack on days where I felt more confused than Alice at the mad tea party. And I got my goal of 5 workouts a week in. If it’s important to me, I’m going to get it done. Writing works the same way. There were days in April it was tough to stick to even my modified NaPoWriMo schedule (yay, stomach flu). But the 15th blackout piece gone done and here’s the 15th expansion:

Carelessly sown seeds
need extra safeguards or else
death comes suddenly.
So I protect my passion.
I’ve seen weakness kill a dream

This blackout piece comes from the galley proof of my book,
If you've read the book, you might recognize this as Lynna's sea-glass pendant.
This poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads' Tuesday Platform.

And now I’ve finished up my writing goal! *happy dance* Wilkie Collins once wrote, “My hour for tea is half–past five, and my buttered toast waits for no one.” It is a little past when I normally work out, but I drop my goals for no one. Yeah, I think I can get a good half hour in.

So what’s new in your world Groovers? We can chat about exercise or just tell me how your week is going. Want to keep the conversation going on at your place? Make sure to drop the link to it somewhere in your comments.

Wearing Midnight: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 14

I cast-off clothing
made of other's expectations
once I learned
wearing midnight complimented wild illusion.

It is a malleable material
conforming to all the dimensions of me
that I wish to express.

"Wearing midnight complimented wild illusion."

Blackout madness continues. This page came out of "Kindred Steel", 
one of the short stories in my collection, 

 This poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads' Tuesday Platform and Poets United's Poetry Pantry 478

Liner Notes for this Groove: I have a birthday coming up this weekend! In my travels on the internet, I've run into several articles with helpful (not) suggestions of what a mature woman my age should and should not be wearing.

To those articles, I respectfully blow a giant raspberry. 

Oh I understand that it's probably not a great idea to wear a bathing suit to a formal winter wedding, but just because I'm closer to the big 5-0 than 21, it doesn't mean I'm giving up my blue jeans and nerdy t-shirts.

Like with most things, I try to find a happy balance. Arnold Bennett once wrote, “The proper, wise balancing of one's whole life may depend upon the feasibility of a cup of tea at an unusual hour.” One must be as wise in selecting their outfit as they are in selecting the right tea for the right moment. There's a certain decorum that must be observed in the office for instance. But there's nothing to say that office-appropriate dress can't have little Captain America shields tucked away as part of the pattern, or a print inspired by the Rebel Alliance logo.

So Groovers, catch me up on what's going on with you. As always, if you'd like to continue the conversation in your cyber-residence, mention it in your comments below.

Song Choice: Q.U.E.E.N. by Janelle Monae featuring Erykah Badu

I Know Normal: Blogging Around with Rommy Week 13

Another blackout/ found poetry piece from the galley proof of my short story collection, 
To see the whole series, follow me on Instagram.

Normal is as sturdy as a paper doll
battered about in a summer rainstorm.
Sunlight shows its patched-up edges
and moonlight reveals it for what it is.

I know normal,
but it’s already scurrying away,
the way most lies do
when confronted by truth.

This poem is linked to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads' Tuesday Platform.

Liner Notes for this Groove:  Dostoevsky once said, “I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.” I feel that way not just about tea, but also about Philadelphia's yearly Sakura festival. Rain or shine, I'm there. The gray skies may have kept away anyone who was afraid of being rained on, but I positively enjoyed myself. The light winds kept a steady sprinkle of cherry blossoms going throughout the time I was there. And patches of fog made my mind turn to things like yokai creeping around Philly.

So dear Groovers, are there any fans of rainy or overcast days out there? Or are you a fan of something a little strange or unusual? Tell me all about it on the comments section, or feel free to catch me up on your week. The floor is yours. Also, if you want to continue the conversation in your cyberhome, be sure to include that with your comments.

A Gift of Moonlight

I drew my first breath
in the land where the wild things are.
Things are different on his side of reality.

He can exist only in a small wrinkle in time
of my life. I don’t want to think about
the one hundred years of solitude
that must follow once that wrinkle is ironed out.

But in this space, in this time
where we exist together
I want to do right by his heart,
as tender and fast burning as it is.

I can’t—won’t—change my nature.
There is too much moonlight in me.
But in the time we do have
my moonlight is his.

Song Choice: I'll Stand By You by The Pretenders

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Weekend Mini-Challenge at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads: 1 Poem, 3 Titles. I used the titles Where the Wild Things Are, A Wrinkle in Time, and One Hundred Years of Solitude. This also is an expansion of a blackout/found poetry bit that I created using a page from my short story collection, The Trouble with Wanting and Other Not-Quite Faerie Tales. Since this piece comes from the story, "Make Mischief, Not War" I wrote it from the point of view of a character in the story, Cordelia, a relatively young fae girl who is bored by the idea of human wars, but is willing to go along if it means keeping her human friend, Gwydion, safe.

This page comes from the story "Make Mischief, Not War"
To see more blackout/ found poetry, pop over to my Instagram.

All Winter in a Day, Blogging Around with Rommy Week 12

The glitter-glass water fell last night
in a melodious hushing shush
I strained to hear over your snoring.

(please, wake up)

There’s a tingle in my snout
as I dream of little bursts of cold
melting all over my fur and tongue.

(Please. Wake up.)

I hear the barbaric chittering
of my foes, flaunting their villain’s tails
as they revel on top of your car and my tree.

(Please. Wake. Up.)

The slushy crisp crunch of feet
attached to giggles and mittened hands
ready to rub my belly
goes ambling along outside the door.


Liner Notes for this Groove: 

This poem was created for a prompt (created by me) as part of Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads NaPoWriMo extravangaza. I asked people to write about a situation that would scare something they were afraid of as a child. As a kid, I was terribly scared of dogs (alough I'm a certified dog-lover now). I couldn't help writing one of my dog's biggest fears - missing out on winter fun.

I know I've shared this image before, but sadly there is no snow today for Kit to claim.

So Groovers is there something that scared you as a kid that you grew to like later in life? Or how is NaPoWriMo going for those of you who are playing along? Tell me all about it in the comments section, or just talk to me about how your week is going. If you’d like to continue the conversation on your cyberhome, drop the link in with the rest of your comments. I’d love to visit.

Song Choice: FOMO by High Rule


“I’m tagging out,” Oliver said as soon as Isaac walked in.

“That good, huh?” Isaac put down his bag and went into the kitchen to give his exasperated husband a hug.

“I’ve never seen a kid work so hard to swallow their gift. I couldn’t wait until mine came. I ran around like a maniac shooting sparks for weeks.”

“That sure sounds like you. The maniac part I mean,” Isaac said, dodging the flicked towel that came at him a second later with a laugh. He was happy to see Oliver laughing too. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Isaac knocked on his daughter’s door. “Can I come in?”

At the sound of a muffled yes he walked in. He sat down next to the lump under the blankets.

“Sweetie, can you come out?”

Kira’s popped her head out. Isaac could see why Oliver was so worried. He could almost see completely through her.

“Will I disappear forever?” she asked.

“Not at all. This happens when people try to hold back their gift. Have you been feeling any of the signs?”

Kira cried, “What if it’s lamest gift ever and still have to grow up?” She buried her head against his side.

“Did you know I faded a little too when I started feeling my gift? I won’t lie. There’s a lot that scared me about growing up, but it’s worse keeping a part of yourself buried because you’re afraid.” Isaac breathed out a flower and gave it to Kira.  “Why don’t you try letting it out now? I’ll be right here.”

“Can Pops be here too?”

Oliver poked his head into the room. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

Kira took a deep breath and blew out a small golden orb that lit up the room.

“Light, like me,” Oliver said.

“Breath, like me,” Isaac said.

“But the glow is all mine,” Kira said.

Song Choice: Winter by Tori Amos

Liner notes for this Groove: Still going strong with the blackout project on my Instagram. This short fiction was based on a short poem I created from a page of my galley proof of my book, The Trouble with Wanting and Other Not Quite Faerie Tales. It's linked up with Poets United's Telling Tales with Magaly Guerrero.

Glow. Hidden glamour is folly.

The page came from Kindred Steel,
my latest Yuuki story

If Poets Did Doodle

I enjoy twisting
feeling into dark whimsy,
sweets taste truer
balanced with the right savory.

This poem is linked to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads' Tuesday Platform.

Liner Notes for this Groove:

I’ve fully participated in NaPoWriMo only twice. While challenges like that make me a better writer, April just tends to be a busy month for me. I was planning to sit out on this April’s madness too, but then I thought of something fun I haven’t tried yet – blackout poetry. But I’d been hesitant to try it out because a.) while I used to draw a lot when I was younger, I’m really rusty at it and b.) I wasn’t sure what to black out.

Then I noticed two galley proofs of my book laying around the house doing nothing but collecting dust. Heck yes I can work with those! I’m still pretty new at the black-out thing, so I’m giving myself a break and only doing them every other day. The end results will get posted on my Instagram account, though some will show up here too:

This one came from the introduction

OK, it’s too soon to say if that one will be a favorite. I’ll just have to make more to find out. If I’m happy at the end of this month’s experiment, I’ll probably do more of these. Emily Autumn once wrote “If leeches ate peaches instead of my blood, then I would be free to drink tea in the mud.” I’d like to feel free to mix visual art and poetry more, and stuffing a giant peach of practice down the leech of self-doubt’s throat during NaPoWriMo might help me out with that. 

So tell me dear Groovers, are any of you giving NaPoWriMo a whirl? Or have you ever jumped into any challenges (either online or in meatspace) as a fun way to improve a skill? Tell me all about it in the comments section, or just talk to me about how your week is going. If you’d like to continue the conversation on your cyberhome, drop the link in with the rest of your comments. I’d love to visit.