Books I & II of The Lova Chronicles is available now!

The Lova Chronicles kicked off with The Earthen Shroud in August 2013!

Want Your Book to Read Like a Movie?

Check out my book trailer and see how I did it!

Author Book Signing

I've only done this once, but I had the time of my life! You can too; see how.

Food-Inspired Art

Check out my guest post on Notebook Blogairy about how food inspires my writing.

Pages From My Diary

I started a new blog series: awesome, intimate, legendary.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Crippling Butterflies

What are these butterflies
That emerge like summer skies
When you are near?
What is that pleasant song
Like a chorused throng
Pulsating in my ear?
How do you always know
Exactly when to show--
And when to disappear?
How did you make me smile again
When I was determined to command
A better life without you here?

What is this thing you do to me?
Please explain this weakness
That always flows up over me.
This crippling, enigmatic energy
That ripples all through me
What is this magic you work
That renders me powerless
Ceasing to count the hours as
We laugh and sing and cheer
How, how, HOW???
You were never supposed to be here...

Yet here you are
Resting peacefully as you lie here next to me
Tomorrow I'll be alone again
But the butterflies always win
You are the wind upon which they fly.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Blooming Tulip

Lovely blooming tulip
Tell me a tale
Of witches, kings and princes
And singing nightingales
Lovely blooming tulip
What of love do you know?
That first sighting and true love's kiss
And landscapes of pure white snow

At times blooming tulip, you remain closed
Never emerging fully
From your blanket of ice and snow
How do you know when to be guarded
And when to let the light in?
When to be open and share the beauty within?

Oh lovely tulip
Please tell me a story
Of rescued princesses and valiant knights
Basking in battle and glory
Pretty blooming tulip
Help me understand
How brave knight know a damsel in distress
But cant seem to take my hand

I see you pretty flower
How do you know when to retreat
I want to learn to both open and close
Please teach me your technique

Again I sigh as another love
Once more passes me
Even the prettiest of flowers
Can be destroyed by a weed

Saturday, April 9, 2011

The Believer

You've said 'I love you' a million times
And a million times I believed you
A hint of doubt resonated inside
But heart convinced mind that we needed you
With a heavy heart and burdened mind
We plodded forth with our deceiver
And now at the end of this lonely road
We find a dead end
And you too busy to meet us here either

Something as simple as a phone call
Oddly holds so much weight
And to think that peace of mind in the wee hours of the night
Was something I used to forsake
Most of my adult life has already passed me by
Now I wonder if there's still time
To get this 'relationship' thing right

I won't allow you to be a distant memory
These years I'll keep you nearby
I have to remember all the places this went wrong
Because the next time has to be my last try
The vision of you and I in front of an altar
Me dressed all in white
Flutters out the window like a fledgling bird
Finally taking flight

'I still love you' you say
As a lonely tear drips down my face
Perhaps you do, love; but it hurts too much, love
To believe for time one million and one.

Friday, April 8, 2011

National Poetry Month

Even though my pending release this coming spring is a novel, I got my start in poetry.  The many scholars I've encountered in my years as a writer--educators and professionals alike--have all assured me what I do is not poetry; it is in fact prose.  Poetry, by definition, follows specific, ordered patterns of syllables and verse.  What I write has no pattern, thus classifying it as "free verse" or prose.

Regardless of what one calls it, expression is why a writer tackles any of these forms.  On many occasions, I only find it possible to say exactly what I feel when the structure is not specified.  Many writers find that restrictions and specifications quiet their inner Muse.  Structure, however, is not always the enemy of art, which is the very reason Shakespeare is lauded for his written genius.  To write within set parameters, like iambic pentameter, is a skill of its own--one I admit I certainly don't possess.

This month, a fellow writer challenged me to compose a poem a day in honor of National Poetry Month.  I am more a creative writer; prose was never my forte.  However, I have written a few jewels in my time.  So J. Mahogany, I accept your challenge, but I will only post here what I find worthy of sharing haha!  Discover your inner writer this month too; maybe we'll inspire each other!