WOULD IT MATTER?

When the nightly news is a barrage
Of bluster and bile, bombs and debris
Gutted out buildings and leafless trees
Where it never rains or it always rains
And children line up for water

With wary looks at their surroundings—

I wonder. 

If there were no religion

would it matter?

Would the flowers at sunrise

call to the butterfly

to come among the blooms

with downy stroke

and the bee to drink from

what was fermented in the night

while thrushes forage for seeds

and stay out of sight?

For Poets Here . . .  a prayer for peace

The Likeness

A Ghost Story   Molly grasped the railing for balance. In the dim of the hallway light, the family portraits that lined the stairwell hung curiously ajar. She straightened her grandmother and descended the stairs, realizing they'd all been moved.

Perplexed, she hung them back where they belonged. The next night it happened again—ancestors jostling for position. Only her baby picture remained unmoved, the curly-headed likeness gazing intently at the camera. Then, on the morning of the shortest day, they were stacked at the bottom of the stairs. Hand to her throat she stared at the only one still hanging by a nail.

__________

In keeping with an old British tradition of telling spooky stories right before Christmas, I wrote this 100-word story for Loren Eaton's Advent Ghosts storytelling event at I Saw Lightning Fall. 

__________

For Christmas present..... my novel, Let Evening Come is available for preorder.  (I actually have an ISBN which made me as giddy as old Scrooge on Christmas morning!) The description and bio is now up on the publisher's site.

Thanks to all and a happy winter solstice (the joyful return of the sun) and loving holiday season to all. Especially to all the poets and writers at The Storytellers. Now for a brandy ball, a snort, and a little fresh snow.

Yvonne

yvonneosborne.com

REMEMBER SNOW

 
I remember the year it snowed
on the drive home from Midnight Mass.
Walking to the car, snowflakes on our tongues
the slap slap of the  wipers
noses pressed against the window
dizzied by the storm swirling around us.
Will rain remember being snow?

This is a Quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words) written for the challenge at dVerse to write one including the given word, snow. Twas easy to do. Even though we don't have any . . .  

I remember when it was otherwise. And the poets at What's Going On are asking us to share a poem about looking back.

Pet Peeve #3 December Rain

 

The Pet Peeve #3

December rains flood the bird feeders—how will they eat?—but doesn’t wash the blood off my porch, the carnage scattered from door to window; tuffs of fur, a chewed-off leg, entrails, a tail. My dear husband cleaned it up with his shop broom and what all. But what, you ask, does this have to do with the rain the rain, the rain?

It’s my opinion that if it were snow falling gently from these iron-gripped skies to pile up in fluffy banks around the porch, drifts swirling and forming barriers along the drive, then perhaps these nocturnal creatures, whatever they are, would eat their dinner in their riverbank burrows, cubbyholes, and woody enclaves, (I want no Invitation to the Party!) instead of spreading it across my front porch for the UPS and Fed Ex guys to look at askance, as at the scene of a murder, checking the soles of their boots before climbing back in their trucks.

So, call it what you want: global warming, climate change, or normal fluctuations in weather patterns, I want my winters back. I want the cardinals and the juncos to flit among snow-laden boughs instead of flapping their wings like ducks in the newly formed ponds where there was once a yard. And I don't want dead things on my doorstep.

For Poets and Storytellers and their Seasonal Writings, asking us to include the title of a book we're reading this December in a piece of poetry or prose. An Invitation to The Party  was a perfect fit!

A Path To Publication and Preorder

THE OFFER

As those of you who are familiar with my blog know, I have long been on the winding road to publication, ever since the Indie publisher, Unsolicited Press first notified me back in September of 2021 that out of thousands of submissions, my manuscript was selected as one of 40 projects to fill out their 2023/2024 list.

From that initial euphoria to signing a contract, to multiple angst-filled edits and settling on a cover, to the gally proof I now have in hand, it has been an arduous process. But, all of a sudden things are happening. Fast!  So I come back to you with an update and the big news that Let Evening Come  is now available for pre-order! 

A BRIEF SYNOPSIS

Let Evening Come is the love story between the son of an Indigenous family displaced from their ancestral home on the Tar Sands of Canada and a motherless farm girl from Michigan who struggles to overcome loss while navigating the pitfalls of young adulthood. Together they combat suspicion and bigotry on both sides of the border and the cultural differences that separate them.  

Pre-Order Here

PREORDERING

Preordering helps the author like this: When you preorder a book, it seeds excitement. It tells bookstores people want this book, which makes them typically stock more copies of the book, which of course means more people see it and buy it. Not only do publishers look at preorder numbers to determine their print run, but early sales are key. Experts say the first two weeks of a book's shelf life are the most important.

So, if there is a book coming out from one of your writerly friends 😊 via traditional publishing, or one that sounds interesting and you plan to purchase it anyway, the best way to support them is to preorder.

I never used to know any of this. I never knew anything. And yes, I'm shamelessly groveling. 

I appreciate all of you who make up this vibrant blogging community and, truthfully, I would have faltered on the path if not for the ongoing encouragement and generous sharing of time, support, and ideas.

Thank you,

Yvonne

Human

(Because in these times I think that needs to be said.)

P.S. I have a newsletter sign up form on my website and there will be a drawing from the first 50 subscribers for free signed copies!! 💖💖 

P.S.S. The Friday prompt from Poets and Writers is to be inspired by Don McLean singing Starry, Starry Night, his lovely song about artist Vincent Van Gogh. There might be a heavy cloud cover overhead but it's a starry, starry night for me and I hope for you, as well.