Reading What I Wrote

Reading What I Wrote

Feed back about my work has been mixed lately, those that liked it read it aloud; those who didn't like it didn't. Once my poems were read aloud, those that didn't suddenly did. So, I post this advice: read my poems out loud, you might just hear something you didn't know was there...

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Autumn Colors

Trees in Sunlight

In the Summer, these beautiful trees
Are green and glorious with all their leaves
But the Autumn lends such a better view
Oh such colors, changing hue
Blues from the sky, now clearly seen
And a little sprinkling of some evergreen
Reds, oranges and golds
And all the beauty they behold
Simmering sun with all of it's light
Shining this day with all it's might
Browns from branches and quick little squirrels
Give motion to this quiet, little world
So inviting and quiet within
Please enjoy - dive right in!

© 2012 Deanna Oaks

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Never Be Again

Visions of the falling sky, stuck in my head
Filling my mind with all sorts of dread
What will become of us, when the world crumbles apart
(Not all of us are zombie killers at heart)
While I feel, way deep down
That soon the world will be upside down
I don't know we should all prep
(Because some of us aren't adept)
Then the question arises, where to begin
What happens to the children who always win
The ones we never taught to lose
The ones who have everything they pick and choose
With little work, and all the pay
From the government and it's silver tray
Do we keep lifting them higher til our backs break
Because we never thought to take
Them through the school of hard knocks
(and keep them there with heavy locks)
We don't teach them to stand on their own
So they keep falling, even after they're grown
When the world crumbles down, they'll continue to pull
Upon our survival, as they did all through school
Then we will have a feeding frenzy for sure
Because we never taught them to endure
The world as it is, as it was, as it will never be again.

© 2012 Deanna Oaks

Monday, November 26, 2012

Thru the Woods

We go a bit further than over the hills
And through the woods
Usually uphill both ways
In snow
To get to where we need to be
Sitting in traffic
Why do we gather?
To complain to each other
About the lives we lead
Or fail at
About the jobs we do
Or don't
The weather
The changing world around us
Faith, God or lack thereof
Trying to make sense of it all
When we are so connected through
Computers, TV, video conferencing, phones
Why do we still gather?
To energize ourselves
With the energy of others
Both those that charge us up
Or drain us out
Because the exchange of energy
Cannot be replaced
By the machines we make

© 2012 Deanna Oaks

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Rejection Letter....

I received a rejection letter yesterday. Can't say I am all that surprised, even though I was hopeful about my chances. Funny thing is, I'm not all that disappointed about the letter. I am not crushed, nor does it prevent me from doing what I have been doing my whole life. It is just a letter from a publisher. A letter which tells me that this particular publisher doesn't want to risk their effort (money) on my writing at this point in time. This letter does not tell me that my writing sucks, or that my writing isn't worth reading - it only tells me that this one publisher doesn't want to gamble with me this year. I could try the same publisher next year, or the other zillions of publishers this year, or wait, I could just continue doing what I am doing and publish straight to Amazon....

Yeah, I'm doing that. Screw getting letters. Rejection letters suck, even though I know it isn't me they are rejecting. Besides, it takes months & months to get some of these letters... I don't have time to wait for all 100 before some publisher decides I am worth their time. I am worth my time, so that is where I will be investing most of it.

Better to do it on my own, be "rejected" by those who don't read me, and earn money (even it if is only $0.35) while I am doing it. I don't write for the paycheck anyway, I write because I can't help it. I write because it is the only thing in the world that helps me to understand how I am feeling and why I am feeling it. It helps me get though the ups and downs of life. Even if no one reads a single thing I write, I still write it, because it is a part of me and who I am.

Thanks for reading, I needed that.

Monday, November 19, 2012

Black Friday Is Upon Me

With the holidaze approaching
The world becomes a blur
Of rude people, "black Friday" sales
And parking lots a bit too full
Family gatherings
Too much whine
Calendars full of parties
So many, not mine
I'm wondering how
We find ourselves
Within the onslaught
Of overfull store shelves
Advertisements, capitalism,
And working too many hours
Does it surprise me
That no one stops to smell the flowers
Or appreciate the gifts we receive -
(The ones we don't buy)
Like the fact we breathe....

Monday, November 12, 2012

Missing Friends

We gather, monthly
To discuss
What really matters
At least to us
Missing the gathering
Hurt me bad
But I couldn't help it
Given the choices I had
Sitting here, now
Missing my friends
Hoping they had fun
Before the gathering ends.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Wait a Minute....

That didn't work
Maybe this will
Start with something I know
Something real
An exciting event
or a bombed plan
Start with something I know
Something at hand

What am I saying?
Can't get this going
Totally blocked
All the rumbling
Am I completely xxxed?

Giving advice
Not following it
Can I be a writer
by wallowing in it?

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Writer's Block

I figured something out about the way I write. It seems that when I am in the midst of writing something and I stop from my own doing, I am able to pick up right where I left off hours, days, months, years after putting it down. However, when I am in the midst of writing something and am interrupted by someone or something – no matter if it is a guy at the coffee shop asking me for directions or my husband calling with an emergency – once I stop, I STOP. Dead stop with no going back. And, since that interruption feels like a failure (because my thoughts were interrupted, never to be regained again) the whole process has to be reset before I can start writing again.

So, here I am now, resetting myself because I made the mistake of trying to write using my cell phone when a call came in. I thought it would be easier for me to get my thoughts onto “paper” by having a handy writing tool right in the palm of my hand. Oh, how I wish I had never thought of that! I am much better with pen and paper… The paper doesn’t “disappear” when the phone rings.

I haven’t written much of anything, except a few notes on facebook and a few scribbles of garbage on scraps of paper I can’t even find right now. I need to write though, as my head is getting too full of things. I just can’t seem to get it down without feeling like I am failing in some matter because I lost that one thought about holding onto family traditions. I am still irked by the thought as well as the loss of that thought. It was something along the lines of losing family traditions because of changes within the family, and then I lose what I was going to say about it. A double whammy if I do say so myself.

Add to that a busy calendar and an increasing work load….and the block locks up my writing tighter than a cell at Alcatraz.

I just want to get back to writing the way I was writing a month or so ago. I couldn’t keep myself from writing. I think it is an addiction of some sort - here I am writing 390 words about how I lost my ability to write and now am trying to gain it back. Does that make me weird?