poetry, writing

Dreams of Meadows

Inspired by the beautiful mountain meadows out West.


She found her way to Big Meadow, the climb steep and littered with rocks,

crossing a wooden footbridge over a stream, edged with tall grasses.

Beyond the grass clumps, a green field stretches out.

Wild flowers add splashes of yellows, whites, pinks and blues.

She continues her walk in the sun; the sky brilliant blue with white puffs,

Her boots fling up a bit of mud from the morning dew onto her legs.

She laughs. Nature can be nice and naughty all at the same time.

She breathes in the calmness and soaks in the beauty.

She steps off the trail where the grass looks dry, lays down in the field of flowers

and lets her thoughts float away like the clouds in the sky.

April 9, 2021 ~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth

romance, writing

Dusty Roads – Working Title – Part One

“Aye, here’s your grub!” the buxom bar maid bawled as she set down plates in front of the four hungry scalawags at the table.

The bar was filled with drunkards and respectable men alike. Sharon liked what she and her husband had built together. They were known as the best pub in town. But, she still had to wrestle with the handsy ones from time to time. Tonight, most everyone was in line and behaving.

Sharon was dressed in a low cut dirndl with a silken teal skirt. One of the scalawags peered intently at Sharon as she bent over. She didn’t mind, she knew what she had….including the six foot three bartender, always standing near by and watching over her. She looked over at Charles behind the bar and winked an eye. He knew, more tips meant more help for the pub. And Sharon knew how to get them without crossing the line.

“Eat up, you all need your strength!” she winked as she turned to return to the kitchen.

“Whew, I’d like to have a woman like that!” John continued to watch Sharon walk away. “She can cook!”

The other scalawags howled at him. Sure, good food and good boobs are great, but the others preferred the women down at the brothel. “John, you don’t know what your missing man. Come with us tonight to Electric Alley. They’ve got some pretty ones!”

John looked at them. “To each their own. That’s the kind of woman I like!” he waved his hand in Sharon’s direction as she worked with Charles behind the bar.

“Careful, Charles there is her husband. Best you leave that beauty alone!” Sam drilled. “Maybe Madam London will have just the woman for you.”

John didn’t want to reveal how he felt about girls at a brothel. He wasn’t a fan, too many men before and after him. He was a kind soul who linked up with a bunch of rowdy guys to get to here. “Nah, ya’ll go ahead. I’m going to finish my dinner and off to bed with me.” He threw the money for his share on the table, and grabbed his sandwich from his plate and took a final hit of ale. “See y’uns tomorrow.” He headed out the door into the street and back toward the inn next door.

Sharon walked back over to the table, seeing John leave. “Everything alright? Anything you gents need?”

A collective sigh came from the group. Sam piped up, “Our friend John there has a crush on you. But, no, ma’am, we’re all good and ready to head out.” Sam and the crew threw their funds on the table and made their way out.

Sharon smiled, then picked up the plates and money to ready the table, waving the group farewell. She called on a set of more gentlemen over to the table. “What’ll you have?”

The evening continued on.


Back at the Inn, John met up with Larry, the inn keeper. “Do you know of any jobs in the area?”

Larry looked him up and down. “Aren’t you with that band of boys who just rode in here?”

John looked down, “Yes, sir. I just met them two towns ago. I’m thinking of breaking out from them and going it on my own.”

Larry mulled it over, rubbing his chin with his forefinger. “Tell you what son, I’ll ask around. You actually look like a good kid compared to the rest of that troupe. I’d like to help you out.”

John’s solemn look brightened. “Thank you sir! I appreciate it. Is there anything I can do tonight to help you here?”

Larry looked around. “Naw, we’re good here. Go on up and get a good night’s rest.”

John headed back up to his room. He took a seat in the rocking chair in his room, lit the oil candle, and pulled out a book which had a folded piece of paper holding his place. He opened the book and pulled out the letter inside, reading it.

Dear John,

I regret to write you with this sad news. Amelia was taken from us last night. Armed bandits kidnapped her. Rumor is, they’re headed to Ogden. Sally and I thought you should know. We continue to hope for her safe return.

Sincerely,

James Moore

He sighed. He’d left Amelia only a year earlier to strike out on his own and make his way in the Rockies. He had hoped to send for her once he settled, but with this news, he abandoned that and headed out to find her. It had been a month’s journey, but he finally made it to Ogden.

He put the letter back in place. He wanted to find work to have some cash here as quickly as possible so he could learn the area in hopes of finding the rascals that took his woman from her folks. He blew out the light and headed to bed.

poetry, writing

Meditation in the Flame


The flickering flame dimly lights the room.

It’s fireside aroma scares off the gloom.

The fire mesmerizes her mind at the end of a long day,

clearing the clutter, the voices and stress.

A quiet breath in and a gentle exhale,

releasing the tightness in her shoulders and neck.

The wick crackles as the fire burns down,

the only sound breaking the silence in the room.

Slowly she stands and walks to the candle.

With a swift blow, the flame goes out.

There is light no more. Darkness and dreams follow.

April 8, 2021 ~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth

poetry, writing

Abandoned Memories

A reflection of a place I spent playing with my cousins as a child. It has been long gone, but this is what I envision it looked like before they tore it down.


The garage stood vacant all these years.

Creaking and groaning escaped the stairs

as they climbed up to the side door.

Inside, the building was musty and damp.

Kudzu and vines grew through the cracks.

The first floor had an oil stained concrete floor

where Granddad’s old car had sat for years.

They found the staircase to the second floor.

A tread here and there missing,

forcing them to take lengthy strides to reach the top.

Wood paneled walls surrounded the second floor.

The old billiard table lost its footing, leaning haphazardly.

The joists spongy and the floor planks sagged.

It wasn’t safe to stand any more, so it had to go.

They took a final look around and said goodbyes.

Tomorrow, our playhouse would be gone.

April 7, 2021 ~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth

poetry, writing

Appalachia is Calling

In honor of my family’s birthplace.


Appalachia is calling.

Come play in my streams and hike my trails,

Explore my mountains and discover my waterfalls.

Appalachia is calling.

Listen to the music on the wind, breathe in the fresh air.

Hear the birds, smell the flowers, and see the wildlife abound.

Appalachia is calling.

Take the backroads to new adventures.

Escape your every day, in every way.

Appalachia is calling.

April 6, 2021 ~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth

poetry, writing

Music to My Ears


80s music fills the house.

Wham!, Annie Lenox, Def Leppard,

Whitney Houston, the list goes on.

Laughter floats through the halls.

Everyone is getting along.

I know things are okay.

Pour Some Sugar on Me starts to play.

While mixing up the chicken salad,

my feet start moving.

Levity and singing proceeds.

My family thinks I have lost my mind.

Not really.

They are just happy to see me smile.

April 5, 2021~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth

poetry, writing

Forward

Learning, changing, and moving forward are hard. This poem is dedicated to that struggle.


Calmness, come soothe my mind.

Peace, I beg you to return.

Chaos has run its course,

And now emptiness settles in.

Help me find the great in good,

And release the negative.

Knowing that moving forward

is all I can do should be a reward,

not a sentence to eternal sadness.

When will I learn?

April 4, 2021 ~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth

poetry, writing

Blushing Beauty

Today’s poem is dedicated to Spring and all the newness abound in this season.


Wound up tight, overlapping waves of soft pink.

Slowly she unfolds. Her petals expand and lighten.

Soon, they turn white with just a touch of blush.

A sweet fragrance fills the air as bees float nearby.

A bee lands on her and dances his way to her very core.

The petals open further, revealing her bounty.

The bee dances more and gathers as much as he can.

His legs are golden, covered in her sweetness.

At the end of his beautiful dance, he shows himself out.

She fully blossoms for all to see.

April 3, 2021~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth

writing

CPAP Mistress

It’s cold in our bed. I climb in.

The machine is already on, no closeness tonight.

I plump up my pillow before settling my head.

I shouldn’t be sad, it keeps him alive.

It also allows me to sleep without enduring sounds of sawing logs.

But it’s on already and he’s not even here.

It’s how I know. Not tonight. Not most nights.

Why can’t it wait until we have said our good nights?

He climbs into bed and delivers a quick peck,

then turns off the light and slides on the mask.

Tethered to his side, no more cuddles,

no more romance, only a hand if I’m lucky.

Most nights, it is his back.

I turn to my side, a tear runs down.

No wonder my dreams take me to other worlds.

Perhaps those worlds are the reality, and this is just a dream?

poetry, writing

Too Early

Remembering back to when I had an adorable husky pup who would wake me in the early mornings a couple decades ago…Dedicated to my sweet girl, Anissa.


Tea in my cup,

Come wake me up.

Don’t look at me that way.

Here’s your ball, let’s play,

You cute little pup.

April 2, 2021 ~DRM~


Please visit my poetry page throughout the month for all of my poems for April: https://dawnreneewrites.com/?page_id=1378

#NationalPoetryMonth