Salt stinging spray, collecting on my face
A wind dried throat, burning with pain.
You grasp at my soul for your saving grace,
Mock my desperation with self disdain.
My lungs are weak like yours. They gasp for air.
My eyes, blinded by wind, squint for their sight.
While skin withers under the sun's false glare.
I can drown too in the sky's endless fight.
You chase your will-o-the-wisp, your siren.
You beg the fish-girls for a a place in their waves,
Careless that their kiss is as deadly as sin.
You flail and you rave, too afraid to save.
I will not drown whatever my life costs.
If you plunge to the depths it's you who's lost.
ps -- I hope the new background doesn't confuse you too much. I like a change of scenery every once in awhile
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Posting at the Archives Today
Hey guys! It's Thursday which means I've posted over at
This week's theme is a wish list for 2012.
Monday, from L.T. Host
Tuesday, From Keriann Greaney Martin
Wednesday, from Matthew Delman
Thursday, from me!
Happy Writing!
The Secret Archives of the AlliteratiWe got a bit of a late start but we're putting together a new and improved Archives for 2012! Check out our new theme weeks so you can hear five perspectives on the same topic every week. And believe, me. We are all as different as you can get.
This week's theme is a wish list for 2012.
Monday, from L.T. Host
Tuesday, From Keriann Greaney Martin
Wednesday, from Matthew Delman
Thursday, from me!
Happy Writing!
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Burns Night (and haggis!)
So last Wednesday, January 25th, was Burns night.
What is Burns' Night you ask?
A commemoration day of the Scottish national poet Robert Burns,the Scottish romantic poet who championed nature and the common people and probably had one too many girlfriends. And of course, being a mite obsessed with all the romantic poets, I couldn't resist having a Burns supper, complete with haggis.
Well I may have cheated as little. As a vegetarian sheep's heart, liver, and lungs cooked with oatmeal and onions inside a stomach dinna sound so bonny. I made this vegan version.
It came out like this:
I served it which neeps (rutabaga) mashed with potatoes
And it was delicious!
I made Cranachan for dessert but was too absorbed in eating it to take pictures.
And after dinner I made my sister and her boyfriend sit in a circle with me and read Burns's poetry. It was pretty interesting trying to decipher our way through the Scottishisms but also fun. Let's just say we all have really bad Scottish accents and it's hard to read Burns without one.
Here is one of Robbie's poems you've probably heard before if you listen to Celtic music at all to help you get the idea. It's hard to make sense of in general but try reading it out loud! It was fun though. A tradition I am definitely going to keep up.
Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O.
There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
In every hour that passes, O:
What signifies the life o' man,
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O.
The war'ly race may riches chase,
An' riches still may fly them, O;
An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.
But gie me a cannie hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O,
An' war'ly cares an' war'ly men
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!
For you sae douce, ye sneer at this;
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O;
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.
Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her prentice han' she try'd on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.
What is Burns' Night you ask?
A commemoration day of the Scottish national poet Robert Burns,the Scottish romantic poet who championed nature and the common people and probably had one too many girlfriends. And of course, being a mite obsessed with all the romantic poets, I couldn't resist having a Burns supper, complete with haggis.
Well I may have cheated as little. As a vegetarian sheep's heart, liver, and lungs cooked with oatmeal and onions inside a stomach dinna sound so bonny. I made this vegan version.
It came out like this:
I served it which neeps (rutabaga) mashed with potatoes
And it was delicious!
I made Cranachan for dessert but was too absorbed in eating it to take pictures.
And after dinner I made my sister and her boyfriend sit in a circle with me and read Burns's poetry. It was pretty interesting trying to decipher our way through the Scottishisms but also fun. Let's just say we all have really bad Scottish accents and it's hard to read Burns without one.
Here is one of Robbie's poems you've probably heard before if you listen to Celtic music at all to help you get the idea. It's hard to make sense of in general but try reading it out loud! It was fun though. A tradition I am definitely going to keep up.
Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O.
There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
In every hour that passes, O:
What signifies the life o' man,
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O.
The war'ly race may riches chase,
An' riches still may fly them, O;
An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.
But gie me a cannie hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O,
An' war'ly cares an' war'ly men
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!
For you sae douce, ye sneer at this;
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O;
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.
Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her prentice han' she try'd on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Character Interview: Head Stableman of Camelot
Hi guys! I haven't been posting a lot of characeter interviews in awhile. The truth is most of my characters have been pretty busy advancing WHITE HART's plot lately and have been hard to get in touch with. No time for me anymore I guess *sigh*. But such is life. I did manage. however, to flag down the head stable man at Camelot and he agreed to answer a few questions.
BUT
To mix things up a little I wondered if any of you had characters who you would like me to interview. If so e-mail me at featherzines@yahoo.com.
Or, if your characters are shy maybe you'd like to interview one of mine. I'll keep you posted on who's available. Merlin seems to have been quiet in the background lately and so has Lady Nimue. And there is a dwarf called Abelhard who's been a little impatient for his scenes so he'll probably come out for a chat if a reader demands it (because, after all, who am I but his humble creator?). There is also a ship's boy and crazy priest from a short story I've been working on. So, again, e-mail me if you want to fix up an interview.
But back to Camelot . . .
Me: So how do you like working at Camelot?
HSm: It's a job. I've had worse.
Me: Like what?
HSm: I used to man the horses for King Uther's army. I never got any time off either. That man was ALWAYS at war. Half the time he didn't even remember what he was fighting over I think. Or maybe he didn't care And if a horse slipped a shoe or went down in a fight guess who got the blame? Yeah. You guessed it. Of course I was only a stable hand back then so I got an ear full --sometimes even a fist full --from the knights AND my boss.
Me: So Arthur is a somewhat easier king to work for?
HSm: Most of the time. Although I'm beginning to wish he'd never decided to get married.
Me: You feel a sense of foreboding too? Like the marriage isn't going to work out the way he thinks?
HSm: Oh no. Nothing like that. Guenerere seems like a fine enough queen. It's just been so much work preparing for the wedding. You'd think in a stable that wouldn't be too much trouble right? Wrong. Every guest has a different idea about how their horses should be taken care of. There was even a bloke in here the other day who insisted that he look after his charger himself. A wild flighty cold too. Very valuable and very dangerous and honestly I don't have the time to make sure he doesn't hurt his precious noble master's neck. I can't afford that kind of liability right now. Especially with the horses for the cerimony to prepare. The king insists I don't use any iron in their tack or shoes. You know how hard it is too find gold or silver or really any other kind of metal bits and horse shoes? And I've got every blacksmith on the isle coming in every day claiming they've got the best iron in all of Britain. Very well. If I ever need iron I will let you know but aparently the king doesn't.
Me: Sounds like you need to get back to work.
HSm: You bet I do.
Me: Any closing comments?
HSm: If you're coming to Camelot anytime soon do me a favor and come on foot.
Me: I'll keep that in mind. It was nice talking to you. I hope you get a nice long rest once this wedding is over.
HSm: Don't hold your breath.
BUT
To mix things up a little I wondered if any of you had characters who you would like me to interview. If so e-mail me at featherzines@yahoo.com.
Or, if your characters are shy maybe you'd like to interview one of mine. I'll keep you posted on who's available. Merlin seems to have been quiet in the background lately and so has Lady Nimue. And there is a dwarf called Abelhard who's been a little impatient for his scenes so he'll probably come out for a chat if a reader demands it (because, after all, who am I but his humble creator?). There is also a ship's boy and crazy priest from a short story I've been working on. So, again, e-mail me if you want to fix up an interview.
But back to Camelot . . .
Me: So how do you like working at Camelot?
HSm: It's a job. I've had worse.
Me: Like what?
HSm: I used to man the horses for King Uther's army. I never got any time off either. That man was ALWAYS at war. Half the time he didn't even remember what he was fighting over I think. Or maybe he didn't care And if a horse slipped a shoe or went down in a fight guess who got the blame? Yeah. You guessed it. Of course I was only a stable hand back then so I got an ear full --sometimes even a fist full --from the knights AND my boss.
Me: So Arthur is a somewhat easier king to work for?
HSm: Most of the time. Although I'm beginning to wish he'd never decided to get married.
Me: You feel a sense of foreboding too? Like the marriage isn't going to work out the way he thinks?
HSm: Oh no. Nothing like that. Guenerere seems like a fine enough queen. It's just been so much work preparing for the wedding. You'd think in a stable that wouldn't be too much trouble right? Wrong. Every guest has a different idea about how their horses should be taken care of. There was even a bloke in here the other day who insisted that he look after his charger himself. A wild flighty cold too. Very valuable and very dangerous and honestly I don't have the time to make sure he doesn't hurt his precious noble master's neck. I can't afford that kind of liability right now. Especially with the horses for the cerimony to prepare. The king insists I don't use any iron in their tack or shoes. You know how hard it is too find gold or silver or really any other kind of metal bits and horse shoes? And I've got every blacksmith on the isle coming in every day claiming they've got the best iron in all of Britain. Very well. If I ever need iron I will let you know but aparently the king doesn't.
Me: Sounds like you need to get back to work.
HSm: You bet I do.
Me: Any closing comments?
HSm: If you're coming to Camelot anytime soon do me a favor and come on foot.
Me: I'll keep that in mind. It was nice talking to you. I hope you get a nice long rest once this wedding is over.
HSm: Don't hold your breath.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Well Hello There
I know I have been apsolutely AWFUL about posting in the last three months but I am back and hope to get Taliesin running semi consistently again.
What was that? You hadn't noticed I was gone? Well as it happens I had tea with a faun and stayed away for hours and hours . . .
and now i've returned to ramble about what's new in my writing and I have to say I am pretty excited right now because
FINALLY
After 61 pages (or three and a half chapters) of comings and goings and getting to know new characters, explanatory dialogue, setting up plot points, letting more back story trickle in, getting a clearer picture of the dynamic between characters etc. my manuscript is starting to pick up speed again.
There will be blood tonight!
Or heavier action anyways. If those 61 pages are as long to read as they were to write I will have some serious re-writing to do but I'm hoping that since my readers don't already know what is going to happen (hopefully) the slower bit will be suspenseful and mysterious. I'll just have to wait and see.
But for now I can write at last with full force toward the climax! I can see it in sight and I'm already salivating, chomping at the bit, etc. Hopefully I don't rush the ending. This is somewhat new pacing to me since my last manuscript had so many plot lines rolling at once there was always something exciting, dramatic, or both going on somewhere.
But then a good story doesn't have to be exciting and dramatic the whole time. Slow parts are good.
I think.
I hope.
So where are you in your manuscripts? A hard part? Easy part? How do you balance the drama and the needed detail. Please share. The suspense is killing me.
Not that I'm an impatient person or anything.
And here is a good song to write to (or work on other January goals to) today
What was that? You hadn't noticed I was gone? Well as it happens I had tea with a faun and stayed away for hours and hours . . .
and now i've returned to ramble about what's new in my writing and I have to say I am pretty excited right now because
FINALLY
After 61 pages (or three and a half chapters) of comings and goings and getting to know new characters, explanatory dialogue, setting up plot points, letting more back story trickle in, getting a clearer picture of the dynamic between characters etc. my manuscript is starting to pick up speed again.
There will be blood tonight!
Or heavier action anyways. If those 61 pages are as long to read as they were to write I will have some serious re-writing to do but I'm hoping that since my readers don't already know what is going to happen (hopefully) the slower bit will be suspenseful and mysterious. I'll just have to wait and see.
But for now I can write at last with full force toward the climax! I can see it in sight and I'm already salivating, chomping at the bit, etc. Hopefully I don't rush the ending. This is somewhat new pacing to me since my last manuscript had so many plot lines rolling at once there was always something exciting, dramatic, or both going on somewhere.
But then a good story doesn't have to be exciting and dramatic the whole time. Slow parts are good.
I think.
I hope.
So where are you in your manuscripts? A hard part? Easy part? How do you balance the drama and the needed detail. Please share. The suspense is killing me.
Not that I'm an impatient person or anything.
And here is a good song to write to (or work on other January goals to) today
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Bleeding Elephant
Wrinkled pillars,
In four corners
Of aging flesh
And clotted fears,
Abandoned life
Of no more use
To those who watch
Blatand abuse,
A Web of viens,
Pumbing out blood
In a rust pool
Of yellow mud.
Who will avenge
Sorrow and pain
Of this blameless
Animal slain?
(Apologies for the morbidity. This was a nightmare that needed to be written out)
In four corners
Of aging flesh
And clotted fears,
Abandoned life
Of no more use
To those who watch
Blatand abuse,
A Web of viens,
Pumbing out blood
In a rust pool
Of yellow mud.
Who will avenge
Sorrow and pain
Of this blameless
Animal slain?
(Apologies for the morbidity. This was a nightmare that needed to be written out)
Monday, September 12, 2011
Monarch Review
MONARCH
by Michelle Davidson Argyle
Rhemalda Publishing
Nick's career as a CIA agent has led to many secrets in his life, from the distrust of his daughters, Clara and Violet and their mutual hatred of each other, to the betrayal of a trusted associate and the suicide of his wife, lies have become a part of what he does. But now he is wanted by both the CIA and Ferriera, the Brazilian drug lord he was assigned to bring down, for a murder he never committed. In his quest to clear his he visits the Bed and Breakfast of Lillian Love, an old and brief flame he has never quite been able to get out of his mind. He hopes that her vacation house will be the perfect place to hide himself and his daughters without too many questions asked, but the betrayal of trust runs deeper than he thought. As he returns to Cuba to dig up his past he wonders exactly who he can trust, including himself, with danger infiltrating itself into every corner of his life.
MONARCH is both an exciting thriller and character driven love story, full of gun fights, kidnappings, ex-lovers, and broken marriages. But above all it a journey through hard, cold reality and human pain and destruction, to hope and new beginnings. The prose is vivid and poetic without being overdone, while the plot is both fast paced and intricate, eventually merging several plot lines into a riveting climax, transcended by the strength each character discovers for themselves, and eventually ending in forgiveness.
The strangest thing about my personal experience with this book is that the settings kept mirroring the place I read it. I started reading it on vacation before I knew that a good fifty percent or more takes place in a kind of hotel, then I went swimming just before the first scene in the lake and then hiking just before the first scene out in the woods. An eerie coincidence to say the least. Almost made me think there was a drug lord after me. Thrillers aren't usually my genre (though I will read an Elizabeth George mystery ever now and again) but good writing is and MONARCH was full of that. It's definitely worth a read if you like good, honest characters with equal parts selfishness and heroism, and a storyline laced with excitement and romance.
by Michelle Davidson Argyle
Rhemalda Publishing
Nick's career as a CIA agent has led to many secrets in his life, from the distrust of his daughters, Clara and Violet and their mutual hatred of each other, to the betrayal of a trusted associate and the suicide of his wife, lies have become a part of what he does. But now he is wanted by both the CIA and Ferriera, the Brazilian drug lord he was assigned to bring down, for a murder he never committed. In his quest to clear his he visits the Bed and Breakfast of Lillian Love, an old and brief flame he has never quite been able to get out of his mind. He hopes that her vacation house will be the perfect place to hide himself and his daughters without too many questions asked, but the betrayal of trust runs deeper than he thought. As he returns to Cuba to dig up his past he wonders exactly who he can trust, including himself, with danger infiltrating itself into every corner of his life.
MONARCH is both an exciting thriller and character driven love story, full of gun fights, kidnappings, ex-lovers, and broken marriages. But above all it a journey through hard, cold reality and human pain and destruction, to hope and new beginnings. The prose is vivid and poetic without being overdone, while the plot is both fast paced and intricate, eventually merging several plot lines into a riveting climax, transcended by the strength each character discovers for themselves, and eventually ending in forgiveness.
The strangest thing about my personal experience with this book is that the settings kept mirroring the place I read it. I started reading it on vacation before I knew that a good fifty percent or more takes place in a kind of hotel, then I went swimming just before the first scene in the lake and then hiking just before the first scene out in the woods. An eerie coincidence to say the least. Almost made me think there was a drug lord after me. Thrillers aren't usually my genre (though I will read an Elizabeth George mystery ever now and again) but good writing is and MONARCH was full of that. It's definitely worth a read if you like good, honest characters with equal parts selfishness and heroism, and a storyline laced with excitement and romance.
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