No agenda
Mass last night
the day is a blank canvas
long awaited
the birds are singing
the frog is silent
a misty morning in June
the trail is calling
like a prayer
Come walk in the wood
I reply I’ll be there soon.
©Anita Adams 6/18/2017
Writing
Life is so Full
Life is so full…
..full of details
..of the doing.
Scheduling time for self appears to be elusive, but necessary.
Where does the time go?
Shopping, cleaning, driving, creating, writing, managing finances, working, remembering others, giving back, in contemplation and prayer, planning, scheduling, creating art while pushing a grocery cart.
Wherever time takes me – that’s where I am. I am here., therefore, God is here too.
Breathe. Believe. Play. Laugh. Pause – because this is the way. The way to the heart. The way to balance it all.
One day life will not be so full.
That day is not today.
© Anita Adams
Called to Write Workshop for women 18 & up – July 2017 – Asheville
Called to Write Workshop
for Women ages 18 & up – Asheville, NC to begin in July 6th
Thursday evenings from 7pm – 9 pm
in the Amherst Writers & Artists method aka AWA
Discover your original and creative voice through a variety of prompts using the AWA method.
To REGISTER: Email name, telephone to AWA.AAdams@gmail.com by July 1st
‘A Writers is someone who writes.” – Pat Schneider, Writing Alone & With Others
A. Adams, Certified AWA Affiliate in the AWA method will Facilitate and write with you. Providing a safe space for others to share their voice and craft their art.
Flaming June
I love this image by Frederic Leighton entitled “Flaming June”.
The painting evokes:
- summer
- beauty
- afternoon naps
- flowing dresses
- and bare feet.
The only thing missing for me is the smell of honeysuckle which is so rich in the month of June.
Sweetness abounds! All one has to do is open your eyes and look around.
Happy June!
~ Anita Adams
Last Day on Earth – A Dream
I’ve been working on crafting a Dream I had last year sometime, and although it is not finished the essence of it is this:
My Last Day on Earth – A Dream
In the dream, it is my last day on earth. Friends and family are somehow gathered to a potluck to wish me farewell. It’s evening, and I’m waiting with the hostess at a house, circa 1950’s on top of a Town Mountain. As I wait in the house, I am pacing in a dimly lit dining room, walking and gazing out a bank of three windows. Everything in the house is either white, gray or brown. Pine wooden floors, white shiplap walls, brown antique wooden door. There’s a sense in me and others of peace and a knowingness that all is well. Being a woman of faith, I understand death is inevitable.
As friends and family gather bringing casseroles, beverages, vegetable plates, salads and desserts, they enter through the brown wooden door and place their dishes on a long white wooden dining table. We look at each other and smile in silent reverence, as I continue to walk gently in front of the windows, and it dawns on me that this will also be the last sunset I will see here on earth.
Two of my daughter’s childhood friends come in with a magenta card and hand it to me. As I read the card, filled with reflections of what I’ve meant to them in their life, I notice it also contains $98. The $98 puzzles me and still is a questionable piece of this dream. Just as I finish reading the card, hugging and loving on them, I notice the light in the room begins to change to a glow.
An urgency rises in me to get to the bank of three windows to view my last sunset. This is how it appeared to me in the dream (I took this photo in 2011):
Feeling grateful to see these rainbow hues of my last sunset on earth, another question arises in me before the sun sets. It is this: “How do I wish to live or leave this day?”
©Anita Adams 2017
Sharing Poetry & so much more from Garrison Keillor and The Writer’s Almanac
It’s a morning ritual for me, to listen to Garrison Keillor and The Writer’s Almanac. There are facts regarding the day, the earth, and ends in a poem. Select the listen online option. This day was full of amazing facts.
♥ Anita
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Gratitude Today
A home
A husband
Loving children
a Frog named 8-ball
a working automobile
food in the fridge
clothes washer and dryer
eyes that see
a trip to the ocean
love to share
ears that hear
© Anita Adams 5/19/2017
Mother’s Day
A day of remembrance of those who gave birth to us and those who gave birth to them and if we are mother’s ourselves, it’s a day where we remember giving birth to ours.
A few years ago, I wrote this poem and recited it for the first time ever in front of 50 people or so. The title is Love ’em Up.
Love ’em Up
with hugs and kisses
listen to their wishes
no matter what they seem
no matter what their dreams
Love ’em Up
with hugs and kisses
teach them what you know
demonstrate your love by listening to them while they grow
Love ’em Up
Let them be children
play in streams, color, sing, climb mountains, swim the oceans, bruise knees
teach them to love themselves, to love others, no matter their ethnicity, religion or creed, no matter how they seem.
Love ’em Up.
©Anita Adams (Original 2015/Revised 2017)
Garrison Keillor and The Writer’s Almanac
One of my favorite public radio broadcasts is The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor.
This poem caught my attention during its broadcast on….
SATURDAY May 6, 2017
Red Never Lasts
by Anya Krugovoy Silver
There’s no doubt it’s the most glamorous,
the one you reach for first—its luscious gloss.
Russian Roulette, First Dance, Apéritif, Cherry Pop.
For three days, your nails are a Ferris wheel,
a field of roses, a flashing neon Open sign.
Whatever you’re wearing feels like a tight dress
and your hair tousles like Marilyn’s on the beach.
But soon, after dishwashing, typing, mopping,
the chips begin, first at the very tips and edges
where you hardly notice, then whole shards.
Eventually, the fuss is too much to maintain.
Time to settle in to the neutral tones.
Baby’s Breath, Curtain Call, Bone.
“Red Never Lasts” by Anya Krugovoy Silver from from nothing. © Louisiana State University Press, 2016. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)
Sunday Morning
and FAITH calls
a poem arises in me like the sun
to my desk with pen and journal in hand
the words flow as the pink clouds appear like a prayer
a new day dawns and all that’s in it is spirit full.
Robert Louis Stevenson, utters a whisper: “Smile and wake up you sleepy head.”
© Anita Adams
Called to Write 