Author: rebeccainspiresnow

Get to know this poet: Terry Spencer Edwards

Posted by

0

Image

Get to know this poet: Terry Spencer Edwards – click on the link below.  Nearly 10,000 folks have done so from Brazil to South Africa.

http://tuesdaymorninglove.com/2013/04/09/april-9-2013-introducingterry-spencer-edwards/

As a Thursday gift to you from Tuesday morning love, I say, get to know this poet.

Her light inspired my own poem below:

Neptune’s Corndogs

Giving birth this you and me

three times round the eleven

Franklin

Madame Khloe

Sir Kelvonicus

all woven threads of buxom beauty

spilling from your pen

toe pointed

you step from the carriage

lifted by blackbirds quilting the sky

Neptune smiles

underneath

wishing for a corndog

only you can give him

this gift

this verse

this burning ball of fire

Image

What’s your superpower?

Posted by

0

Image

Yesterday while watching the movie, The Green Lantern, I heard, “Green is the color of will.” Hal Jordan was chosen as the Green Lantern for his courage.  His big a-ha came when he realized that you can have fear, overcome it and become courageous.  We all know this.  Yet sometimes, in fear, I think we forget that courageous folks are scared all of the time.  If you had a superpower, what would it be?  Are you the most organized person in the land? Are you the funniest? What would it take to hone your superpower? A focus on fitness and nutrition? Watching comedy so that you can laugh more? Writing every day so that it becomes a habit? Think about the greatest possibilities, why you were put on this planet for this period of time. Think about the best version of yourself.  What will it take to get there?

Mr. Fred and Miranda’s Meringue

Posted by

2

ImageHow did Mr. Fred come to Tola Island? He was drawn there by the paintings of Jackson Blue. Miranda was the subject of one of those paintings. She was done up in her best silver sequined dress and standing behind the counter at Jed’s diner with all of those beautiful glass cake and pie covers that belonged to Jed’s mother. She has full lips, glossy and not done up. She was holding a just-dipped-in-meringue finger to her mouth. He was standing in Catanzaro’s grocery store where the news was showing on the TV behind the register about some gallery up north. They zeroed in on the painting of Miranda and called it “Miranda’s Meringue.” Mr. Fred was turning 33 years old that day. He was sent to pick up ricotta for his mom’s tradition of making cannoli on his birthday. Back then he was just Fred, staring at that sequined wonder all lit up by the glass, the pies and the wonder of that painter who got to look at that face, that finger covered in toasted air, those soft pillows she had for lips.

“Fred! Fred! That’s $1.35 for the ricotta.” He knew right then he had to meet Miranda of the meringue.

***

To learn more about this character and Miranda Cully, please visit:

Grandmother Cully, Karo and Jelly

This story is living and breathing. It all started with writing prompts from http://www.sarahselecky.com – I highly recommend signing up for them, just for fun. It only takes 10 minutes a day.

I just spent the morning doing the math of Mr. Fred’s age, when he fell in love with Miranda, what year characters were born and I actually wrote a poem to Mr. Fred. I’ve never written a poem for one of my characters before. This is how alive they are becoming for me.

3 Women. 3 Birthdays. 3 Poems.

Posted by

2

ry=480

A Case of You

  for Tindi

Transcendental Cuarenta

Liberte in flamenco feet

Never undone by the journey, always watching

building files on what’s next

you know there’s a washing coming

moving the garden, it’s tilled, it’s sown

no groundnuts here, just truth nestled in Neema’s kisses

and a wondrous globetrot

Queensland, Sydney

a reverential you

fingers up receiving the vibrations

monkey washing potoatoes on the other side

and you in Lavington

effervescent

clouds propel spirals, flight and

a case of you

eyes closed

a case of me

back on Gresham

healing wounded hearts in slumber

gotta be

Touching Earth

 for Megan

There is Cazenovia in your veins

mixed with the silt of clay from a wood-burning kiln

let this be a year of glorious lessons learned

like that Starbucks guy with his coffee soda

you are all that is true

in generosity and gratitude

from the 12,000 pumpkin pies in your Quaker school years

to the love in Faraday and Cardozo

Your poppa watches from the stars scattered above mulberry bushes

wishing you a return to all that is born in your fingers

making cups, home for wasabi

a centering of your soul

Corny Love

    for Heather

you and your egg salad

you and your Excel spreadsheets

you have never known love like this before

(Yes, I want to send you the 1980 YouTube Stephanie Mills video to commemorate a love for Lucas Micah)

a LYLAS friendship crosses a decade

all those clear plans

those grassy Naperville squares buttressed by Hawkeyes and iceburg lettuce

maybe some romaine

you mock my arugula, kale, radicchio

‘Grass! It’s all grass!’

I embrace the woman who can make me laugh like no other

purple polka dotted pumpkin eaters

holding helping those who cannot help themselves

you dearest, need celebration

for your wisdom

and your love of that which you know

and that which you don’t: jicama, jojoba

Staycation

Posted by

2

Image

Living like vampires

drapes closed

leftover lunacy

shrimp stir-fry with peanut sauce

rotisserie chicken noodle soup

chocolate chip pancakes afternoon and morning

does Thich Nhat Hanh mindfully lick the butter from the edge of zen?

paint and a six-year-old’s bodily functions

making mazes with earwax traps, eyeballs, ‘bergers’

rubber duck races in the bathtub

allergic reaction to dishes, laundry

superhero squad

poems, peeps yellowed by the sun or some other substance

make a movie

document the construction of a planned vacation

undone by contracts, taxes and a runny nose

Celebrate this quiet mind

plugged into what matters

and frivolity

touch tap the moment when home becomes adventure

obstacle course

Easter eggs balanced on spoons

citrus tucked under chins

comforters on the couch

Image

Being Awake

Posted by

0

Human Beings have a gap—between who we think we are and who we really are. Closing the gap is where being awake is. (Natalie Goldberg, The True Secret of Writing)

A few weeks ago, I wasn’t writing like this.  Until yesterday, I haven’t been painting like this. There is something alive in me that was sleeping, resting, “om-ing” in some other dimension. Now it’s awake. And I hope that reading this, you will feel something stirring, if that thing isn’t already hopping in you. The athlete. The writer. The painter. The chef. The designer. The life coach. The entrepreneur. The philanthropist.

And now I give you a gift that will take 19 minutes and 32 seconds of your life to enjoy. It’s Elizabeth Gilbert’s TED.com talk on “Your elusive creative genius.” It’s funny, it’s got history, love, Tom Waits and the most splendid story about one of my favorite poets: Ruth Stone.  Put it on while you do the dishes, pick this over TV, you can just listen.  Or take a real lunch break today at work, for at least 19 minutes and 32 seconds.  It’s worth it.

http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html

Pictured below: “Be Sure” painting by Rebecca Villarreal (4/3/13). Acrylic, oil pastel and mosaic.

Image

Acrylic and pastel painting in progress

Underneath the final painting, the words: “What they say is true and Are you sure and yes and Be Sure”

What’s your third thing?

Posted by

0

ry=480

Lots of us live in conflict. These conflicts can be big or small. Live in the city, longing for nature. Married to stable, longing for passion. Broken childhood, happy adulthood. Overweight, desire to run the fields. In The True Secret of Writing, Natalie Goldberg addresses the idea of a third thing. It’s not necessarily something you can point to right away. It’s that medium where you find relief. “Should I do this or that? A choice between two things is not a choice. It becomes a fight between right or wrong.” The idea is that out of the struggle something else can grow. A third thing. It takes an awareness, a waiting, a letting go, a fertilizing, a quieting. In my case, I realized this morning, that my novel is my third thing. That answer to my dark and light. I am so excited to share it with you. Natalie’s third thing is her house in Santa Fe. Her struggling between her love of Minneapolis and its order and her existence in Taos.

If you feel a restlessness over conflict, try this calming meditation I learned from Thich Nhat Hanh:

I am home.
I have arrived.
In the here and now.
I am solid. I am free.
In the ultimate I dwell.

Here’s to your third thing arriving at the moment that is right for you.