Come on out and join me for an hour to hear me read from my book and then have a discussion about brain injuries and concussions.
I am a happy brain injury survivor and it is not lost on me how lucky I am. I feel very blessed for my recovery.
I am giving these readings to raise awareness about post-concussion syndrome and to give voice to being a brain injury survivor.
Here are the dates and places I will be reading.
Thursday May 26th, 6:30 Zumbrota Public Libraray
Thursday June 30th, 6:30 Stewartville Public Library
Thursday July 21st, 6:30 Rochester Public Library
Thursday August 18, 7 pm Pine Island Public Library
I hope to see you there. And if you have a comment or a story about surviving a brain injury, please add it here.
Here is another poem that just appeared in the Rochester Post Bulletin, December 2015. It’s been a very mild winter here so far in the midwest, and even so, summer has retreated. Enjoy!
Summer Retreats (c) 2015
Corn yellows in fields
and the smell of burning wood
fills the air. Wooly caterpillars
inch their way across trails, and leaves
the color of bark, fall, and land
in my dying marigolds.
Summer retreats to the other hemisphere,
yet she’ll return suddenly
and fill the day with a sun so yellow
and such abundant warmth that we almost forget
she’s really gone, till night comes
sooner and cooler.
The turning of seasons
takes place between a chorus of crickets
and the springing leap of grasshoppers.
This is my poem in the Post Bulletin in November 2015. It’s a poem about autumn. Enjoy!
Crickets chee, chee, chee.
Summer shudders and gathers
her green before Autumn chills
yellow and orange from every leaf.
Summer is gone before Autumn
etches her name on windows
in lacy, jagged frost.
Autumn. I love this word, and I find the season to be full of beauty and creativity.
I have two poems forthcoming about the fall season in the Rochester Post-Bulletin, and I am so pleased.
What words come to your mind when you think about fall? As a collection of words, here are mine. Chill, crickets, orange, yellow, brown, cinnamon, apple, fire, turn.
Here’s wising you an inspirational fall.
I had an excellent time at the Minnesota Northwoods Writers conference this June, 2015.
I met new writer friends, connected with writers and poets, was treated to hear craft talks and readings from established authors in many genres, had time to write, and the list goes on.
This was so good! I hope you look into it if you are a writer and in need of a conference. I hope they will do it again next year.
Upon returning from this week of being immersed in writing, I have so many ideas and exercises for poetry writing, and a new authors to read and reread.
I can’t quite put how rich this experience was, but I can say this. Write on! Poetry on! Bring me more metaphor!
Here is my latest published poem. It is in the Post Bulletin in Rochester, and honestly, they have published so much of my poetry that I want to give them a big shout out of thanks!
I will figure out how to put up the link to the PB, but for now, here is the poem. And Happy Spring!!
I’m the platinum sister.
I am youngest.
Robins bring me
to Winter’s hearth,
and she nurses me
for a time, keeping us cold.
But I grow fast and bold.
One warm day,
Winter packs her sled
and goes North
with her winds and hounds.
I’ve thawed the ground.
She thrives on ice.
I am stronger,
louder and wilder
in each greening day.
I wear Winter out this way.
My breath deepens the blue sky
and everything I touch
brings blooms and buds.
I blossom the meadows
I release the mud.
Where I run
snow melts and dandelions
grin yellow towards the sun.
I vitalize the old
and rid them of raw cold.
They dance with me.
They radiate and glow.
They remember their youth
and why they live.
The is one gift
I can give.
Ah! The young! I exhilarate them
with so much trilling life
that they need to sprint,
dance, or scream
because they cannot contain
all my gifts.
For some I am too much
too green, and too bright.
All my dazzling light
and scents of earth
and mud them
till they cry out, “Enough!”
They need Winter’s chill
and inward calm.
I don’t have that balm.
So, I thump on
reckless in each day.
Wild in my ways
and spirit light.
I am Spring!
I bring delight!
This is my most posted and quoted poem per the internet. So, here you have it.
Mud Puddle Talk
A splish a splash,
A splish a splash,
A puddle a puddle
A jump and a smash.
A slip and a slop
A drip and a drop
A pool and a puddle
A run and a hop.
A wet soaking sock-
It’s mud puddle talk.
A thump a glump
A rainy day walk.
Performance art is a new interest of mine. I tried out two pieces last night at Cafe Steam in Rochester. I am going to be writing more and performing more too.
The pieces I wrote and performed were, “The Interview,” and “Grandmother’s Story.” This is all I am going to say about these for now.
In the future I will post up some videos of me performing pieces.
My friend Sue Johnson is a gifted comedian. I saw her perform last night at Goonies. She got me thinking about ideas for a little stand up comedy sketch I could try. I have written something out, but stand up has never really been my thing. Even so, dabbling in new areas can’t hurt.
With spring, it seems the creativity is pouring back.