poetry, writing

Mom

Happiest of birthdays to my beloved Mom.


Her flaxen hair is now platinum,

her hazel blue eyes sometimes are grey.

She loves butterflies and flowers

and would play in her garden all day.

Her smile hides her sadness,

for she misses her true love.

He left this earth years ago,

but watches her from above.

She raised her daughter

to be strong but soft.

She’s so proud of her girl,

more often than not.

Another trip around the sun she did make.

One more candle now sits on her cake.

April 15, 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

Mountain Dunes


Neverending dunes of cocoa colored sand stretches on.

Snow capped mountains peek from behind.

The blazing sun pours down, distorting the distance.

Her grassy green silks float in the hot winds.

She reaches to the sky for just a single drink.

Drowning in heat, and no water to have,

she succumbs and withers to ashen gray.

April 14, 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

Dusty Roads – Working Title – Part Two

Charlie and Sharon began to lock up the pub for the night. It was a good night for the pub, busy and profitable. Charlie and Sharon toasted to the success and then turned their attentions to reset for the next day.

Sharon worked the floor, cleaning the tables off, turning over the chairs and sweeping the floor. Charlie loved to watch Sharon as she sashayed back and forth with the broom. She had a hidden elegance about her as she danced across the floor while she swept.

Charlie rested his chin on his hand, taking a break from cleaning up behind the bar. Most of the work was done; bottles stowed, glasses cleaned and put away, and the till counted and ready for the safe.

Sharon noticed how quiet it was and turned around. She smiled when she saw his focus on her. Charlie was still sweet on her after all these years. She loved to tease him in these quiet moments. She let the broom slip from her hands, then bent over, flashing him with her cleavage as she retrieved it.

A sly curl of a smile came across his face, his cheeks reddened a bit, then he looked down and started wiping the countertop, hoping she wouldn’t catch him taking a peak. They’ve played this game for years. She looked up before standing back upright and giggled. His face was too cute when he tried to not get caught. He looked back up, the smile still on his face. His light eyes twinkled with humor and lust all at the same time.

“Charlie! What are you looking at?” Sharon joked with him, shifting her hips as she rested her free hand on her waist.

He fumbled with the rag in his hand and chuckled her way. His face suddenly looked 20 years younger as he tilted it sideways and ran his free hand through his hair. That’s the look she fell in love with. Sharon set the broom aside and walked behind the bar, taking Charlie by the hand and leading him upstairs to their one bedroom loft above the bar.


poetry, writing

Light After the Rain


Gods and angels fight in the heavens.

Thunder crashes and lightning flashes.

Dominance over their dominion hangs in the balance.

The earth below soaks up the rain.

Fields of green flourish and dry river beds fill.

The parched desert breaths a sigh of relief from its aridness.

The sun above pierces the darkness above,

blinding the gods and angels of their sight.

They pause their fight, allowing the rays to break through.

Slowly they refocus to see the beauty below, and

find the peace needed for their souls.

April 12, 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

Post Pandemic in Sight: Introverts Need Friendships Too

As the vaccination for the pandemic makes its way to every adult arm, I look back over the past 14 months. We still have a few months to go, but we’ve all gone through a tidal wave of emotions and a slew of ever changing guidelines. But, I think to the emotional toll most.

I recall seeing stories from extroverted friends who indicated they were suffering from the isolation. No doubt, this was very real for them. But for us introverts, it actually wasn’t easier! Sure, we craft, read, write, watch TV and the like. But, trust me, we miss socializing, too! Childless introverts even more so from my point of view. This is what prompts me to write this.

See, I’ve missed my friends. I’ve missed my co-workers. I’ve missed conversations with people other than my husband and mother. Now, sure, I’ve picked up the phone now and then, sent cards, and I have zoom meetings with co-workers as well as instant messaging, emails, etc. But, there is just something about connecting one-on-one in real life with people which introverts need just as much as extroverts.

So as the world opens up, and when the masks come off, please don’t forget your introverted friends, the ones you only heard from once in a while throughout this ordeal. They still need you…probably more than you realize.

poetry, writing

Resilience


Empty echoes of hollowness abound.

Lost in the abyss of nothingness.

Where once life flourished, nothing remained.

Not even remnants of the dead.

The windswept gorge was barren.

Only signs of erosion by the wind and water.

But for one small flower growing in a crevice,

where the rain catches and the sunlight is perfect.

April 10, 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

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