Blog Archives

I Am a Woman Sharing Stories

Friend CollageFor all my very wonderful female friends, the beautiful women who share their stories and who listen to mine. I value my female friends so much.  Read the rest of this entry

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I Am a Woman Finding My Voice

voice

“Did I lose my voice when I learned not to cry too loud or make too much noise so I didn’t wake up Daddy? Or was it when I learned that talking in church was a sin (unless it was to a priest)?

Was it the first time I didn’t say what was inside of me because I didn’t want to make someone mad, or was it the first time that I said what wasn’t true because I didn’t want to hurt someone’s feelings? No matter now. Now, I am finding my voice!  Read the rest of this entry

NaPoWriMo Day 10 – in which I find myself

Treble ClefNaPoWriMo Day 10

I wrote this poem, that then turned into a song, in quite a short space of time.  It became a bit of a song that told in words, the journey that I am on to find myself. Read the rest of this entry

NaPoWriMo Day 7- 9

So, apparently I am failing at NaPoWriMo. It is much harder than I thought to write a poem every day. So today I’ll catch up with a slightly longer piece. Read the rest of this entry

NaPoWriMo Day 6

Flying High, Deeply Rooted

Today has been a struggle to get anything up. But I wanted to still post – I don’t want to miss a day having already started 4 days late!  Read the rest of this entry

NaPoWriMo Day Four

I haven’t blogged for ages. The final furlong of a degree and work have sapped all my writing energy – enter NaPoWriMo!

I thought it would be a great way to get back into blogging again, but I have arrived at the party late, it being day four and all! But I’m going to do it anyway. I’ll see if I can sneak an extra four in somewhere along the line.

National Poetry Writing Month, follows in the grand footsteps of NaNoWriMO (Novel Writing) and as there was no way I could write a novel in a month last year, I am hoping to be able to do it this year!

NaPoWriMo has been going since 2003, but I’ve only just heard about it, late to that damn party again!

Seeing as I can’t find any rules about NaPoWriMo, and although I am sure I am supposed to actually write it myself, today’s entry isn’t from me. To make things easy, here is a Haiku I saw the other day and loved. If you’re desperate for an original poem you can read one here

Haikus are easy

But sometimes they don’t make sense

Refrigerator

I am a woman reclaiming my body…

Woman Arise

My body, at last, I claim you! I live here! I am not some discarnate spirit using just any vehicle to get around. I live in the full, round, soft, juicy, wet, strong, agile, capable, spirit filled, nurturing, graceful, flowing, comforting, lovely, smooth, dancing, singing, playing, working, praying body of a woman.

 

For so many years I rejected my body because it isn’t perfect according to the standards of my culture. I have been unfaithful to it, letting others opinions turn me against it, allowing others to use it without love, without tenderness. Because I myself rejected my body, I didn’t protect it, didn’t demand that it be treated like the precious gift that it is. My body, the temple of my soul, deserves better from me.

 

I reclaim this body. I reclaim these eyes and their vision; this mouth and its words; these arms and legs and their hugging and dancing. I reclaim these breasts and their magnificent fullness; I reclaim these wide, round hips and strong fleshy thighs and their waking on earth. I reclaim this vagina and all its secret folds and this womb and its bleeding. I reclaim all of my body parts, named and unnamed.

 

This body is a miracle; it is the first gift of the Creator to me – my birthday present. 

 

I take this body to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to honour and love and cherish until death do us part. 

 

I am a woman reclaiming my body

 

(Author Unknown)

The Writers Cry

“The expectation is rising, ideas crash colliding, the juices are flowing, anticipation growing. Your fingers itch and dance, as they clasp the pen for the perfect chance. The blank canvas sits and waits, your thoughts with which to fill and chase. You search for inspiration high, chasing at darting butterflies. You search for inspiration low, in the darkest depths one dares to go. You grasp at thoughts as they fly on past, desperately reaching in case they’re the last. And words they tumble, boundaries crumble, as on and on the ink just flows. Read the rest of this entry

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