Author: Dawn Renee Miller

Lifelong writer of boring things like specs and reqs ready to spread her wings with some creativity.
poetry, writing

Good Night

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

by Carl Sandburg

Many ways to say good night.

Fireworks at a pier on the Fourth of July
      spell it with red wheels and yellow spokes.
They fizz in the air, touch the water and quit.
Rockets make a trajectory of gold-and-blue
      and then go out.

Railroad trains at night spell with a smokestack mushrooming a white pillar.

Steamboats turn a curve in the Mississippi crying a baritone that crosses lowland 
cottonfields to razorback hill.

It is easy to spell good night.
            Many ways to spell good night.

This poem is in the public domain.

To celebrate the 4th of July, I chose to share this Carl Sandburg’s poem instead of trying to come up with my own.

I learned of Carl Sandburg as a child in Chicago. The first part of this poem reminds me of fireworks over the city, imagining what it was like downtown to see them at Navy Pier. As a kid, I’d lay atop my dresser, (…I was six or seven…) and look out the windows in the corner of my room, watching the fireworks display from a near by forest preserve.

Happy Independence Day, USA!

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writing

Star-Crossed Heroes

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

He was her Steve Trevor, her Superman.

Now she’s lost in a marvelous universe

living with the Hulk,

while Clark has his Lois Lane.

This world is foreign to her soul,

But she remains all the same.

The Hulk shows he needs her and wants her,

He’s gentle and kind; a really good man.

She’s grateful Clark found his Lois,

Lois could give him so much more

than she ever could. But still,

he was her Steve Trevor, her Superman,

and that can never be forgotten

by his Amazonian Princess.

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writing

“Christmas Eve/Sarajevo” – TSO

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

It’s Christmastime. She’s sitting in the drive, windows rolled up, air conditioning going full blast. She’s in no hurry to go in to entertain the family sitting in the living room. There’s time for that. For now, she needs to listen.

The music starts to play…purely instrumental, purely orchestral, purely rock. Some may be shocked; it’s her second favorite holiday song behind Fogelberg’s “Same Old Lang Syne”. She reaches for the volume and turns it up, as loud as her car speakers can handle. The windows and mirror begin to vibrate.

Carol of the Bells and God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen are amped up and electrifying. She closes her eyes. She feels the beat and moves her hands against the steering wheel before her.

She’s transported to another place, frozen over, snow falling, a vision of an eerily silent place fills her mind….a far distance away from the hot Florida holiday. She gets lost in the sounds for three and a half minutes.

The song closes. She breathes, and turns off the car. Time to see the family.

It’s that time of year, where thoughts of cooler weather and the holidays start in my world…Christmas in July. Growing up, my dad would pull out his tapes, and later, CDs, and begin playing holiday music this month. I’ll be sharing various snippets this month in honor of his memory. I hope you enjoy this a little blast of Winter as the summer heat settles in.

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writing

Title Bound

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

Magic, do you feel it in the air?

The hair standing up on your neck,

the electricity coursing through your veins.

Hearts pounding like thunder.

Excitement as the stick hits the puck.

Screaming ensues as it flies across the ice.

Thunder Bug enlivens the crowd.

They rally on some more,

fighting for time in the rink.

Checking and charging,

breakaways and more.

He shoots! He scores!

Let’s Go Lightning!

Let’s Go Lightning!

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writing

Wishes

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

I wish I’d had a little Boo,

A sweet little girl, wide-eyed and innocent.

Big eyes, the color of her Dad’s,

Brown hair like her Mom’s in pigtails

And an infectious giggle that didn’t stop.

Joy and laughter,

coloring and running around.

A love for her monster Sully, ever so sweet.

I wish I’d had a little Boo.

A sweet little girl to read fairytales to,

Spinning up some special stories just for her.

Watching her grow and blossom.

I wish I’d had a little Boo.

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writing

A New Phase

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

A beautiful girl stands at the window looking out to the garden beyond. Raindrops roll down the window as the rain stops. She raises the window and the curtains catch in the breeze; the smell of flowers permeate their room. The dark clouds slowly give way to the sun and the flowers glisten in the light.

She sighs a deep sigh as she looks to her left. Her little sister, still so small, sleeps peacefully. She tortured her sister growing up, teasing her endlessly. But now she is faced with the future and needs to mature. That doesn’t mean she won’t pick and joke any more, but she’s learned, she also needs to keep an eye out for her little sister too…oh, the benefits and responsibilities of being the first born.

Soon she might be able to date boys, when her dad and mom let her. Shh, don’t tell them, but she’s had her first kiss. She will need lots of room to grow; hopefully her parents remember being teens.

She also feels she needs to achieve…she’s a smart one and creative too. She wonders how high school will be different from her old school…especially after the roller coaster ride the pandemic had on her education.

Her body is changing; she’s rocketed up to over five-foot-eight, so much taller than she ever expected. She’s changing from a girl to a young lady. She’s still learning how to move and dress in this new figure of hers. Her hair hangs straight and long. She wonders if she should change it, but that can wait for now. There’s still an innocent young girl there, staring back at her in the mirror.

Summer is escaping quickly, and fall will arrive soon. So much growth and change is on its way. But for now, she enjoys what is left of summer and keeps on being a kid for just a bit more. She returns to the window and rests her head in her hand. The curtains flutter around her. Growing up can wait.

Dedicated to my friends with firstborn girls, and all the drama that comes along as they grow up.

Inspired by a poem from Mitchel David Ring: https://thelightison.blog/2021/06/29/firstborn/. Thank you for the inspiration! ~ DRM

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writing

Scars

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

My mind drifts back to a time when

Innocence and new love ruled.

The scars were few,

you gently explored them

with your touch and with your kiss.

I only had two back then, but now there are more.

Would you explore them and show me

That gentleness once again?

The one on my knee has turned to many

The white scars glare when I am tan.

The small one on my bicep, something benign.

My elbow scarred from falling to the pavement.

Would you be gentle to them?

The stretch marks that cover me,

Where depression and weight took their toll.

The three inch scar at my bikini line,

Removing the reason for no children.

Only to end at my first scar,

behind my upper lip from

when I fell as a child.

Would you care, would you be kind?

Would you explore my scars with your gentleness again?

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writing

Good Friends

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

You know you’re good friends when:

You don’t clean before they arrive.

They’ve seen you without makeup.

They’ve seen you with your hair a mess.

You can laugh together at being stupid.

You can cry in front of them and they know

whether to hug you or slap you silly, or both…

And you have conversations about poop.

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poetry, writing

Ever After

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

The rocking chair creaked as she rocked back and forth,

Her bare feet leveraged against the wooden railing.

Her hair had silvered with age, and thinned as well,

but the curls still sprung when it was humid out.

Crows feet spread from the corner of her eyes

from all the laughter and tears of her life.

He walked out, the screen door groaning closed,

the way old screen doors do, and

he handed her a tea and took a seat beside her.

His eyes and smile still sparked a fire deep in her soul.

She dangled her other hand from the armrest

and he slipped his in, holding her tight.

They looked at each other and smiled.

It started with them and what happened in between,

well, there were many other lives and loves,

but their separateness helped them understand

what it meant to love and be loved.

And the sun set on them, together, in the end.

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