Liebster Award

I have just been nominated for the Liebster Award by Tortured Cyclone: In the Eye of the Storm.  I hope I'm doing this right.  I think the main thing, is that we give small blogs a big high-five and say how special their blog is.  It's an honor to be nominated.  It means that person read my pieces and found some meaning in them.  In poetry this is very important.  It was said to me over a year ago by one of my patients, "You want to publish a poetry journal? That's nice, but you should know that poetry is dead."  Since being on Twitter, I have noticed quite the opposite.  Twitter and my blog has opened the door to new styles of writing, publishers, editors, and new opportunities. 

So without further due, here are *my* nominees:

1.  Sheryl Osgood - Camp Osgood's Adventures

2.  Steve Green - Splatter Poetry

3.  j Matthews waters (jdubqca)

4.  Kim Talon - Barely Scratching the Surface

5.  Brian Gallagher - Short Order Poet

Sheryl.  For Pete's sake.  Yes.  You will fill out this Liebster Award nomination.  You have read my mind.  You've seen me cry and have known when to hug and when to just stand and watch the storm pass.  You were there at the worst and you will be there during the best of my life.  Your writing is excellent.  Easy to read.  I always secretly laugh when you say, "I'm not a poet, Kendra.  I'm a girl from New York somehow transplanted in Missouri."  I'm working hard on performing my white witch magic on making Patty come on and blog ;)

"Steve" - You.  You are the one that got me to try this crazy thing called Twitter.  You then planted the thought of creating my own blog.  What a wonderful, healing experience this has all been.  Spilling my guts out on my blog for all the world to see.  The world.  Reading my diary.  It's been the best release.  I remember my first "share" of  one of my first blog posts "She".  I cried.  I told you to take it down.  Hide it.  Then I got back with you and told you to repost it.  You did both with such grace.  It was easy to write but so hard to share.  You understood the intricacies of it all.  Words cannot express my gratitude.

Kristy - You are a top notch poetess.  You encourage me everyday with your posts.  It's really just that simple.  A published poetess.  That is no easy feat.  It encourages me immensely.

Kim Talon - What can I say?  You are the one poetess that challenges me the most.  You take a simple picture on Twitter and create a different story that leads down a different path.  It opens my eyes to new ways to write.  You create beautiful pictures and make my heart sigh with such calm every time I see them.  Your Twitter page celebrates all poets and you have certainly given me more credit than I thought I deserved on many occasions. 

Brian Gallagher - You make me laugh and you make me think. A wonderful combination.  Thank you for understanding my humor.  You quietly champion me and you raise your head up high and howl when it's appropriate.

The Questions:

1. My 5 Guests (Living or Dead) I'd Like to Share a Banquet With: 
     * My Dad:  I would want him to see me finally getting my poetry published.  He saved all of my poetry I wrote since I was 12.  Kept them in his "Important Papers" file I found after he died unexpectedly when I was 6 months pregnant with Tot.  I hear his laughter on the wind at odd times now.  I would want him to finally see me happy and in love and successful.  He would invariably inject his conspiracy theory of politics and warn me about the "Coming days."  He listened to Amos and Andy on the radio.  He adored Johnny Cash and George Jones.  He liked Credence Clear Water Revival a whole heck of a lot.  No one knew that but me.  Tot has his eyes.  The bluest of blue.  Dad.  I love you.

     * My Grandpa Hake:  My Mom's dad.  He died when she was 20.  I met him only in a dream.  I have so many questions for him.  More than a banquet.  I want to fish with him.  Sit in the middle of peaceful lake and lure the illustrious fish to our hook.  He hitched a ride on a train without a lick of money from North Dakota and later became the mayor of Elsah.  He was the only one who could "smell" rattle snakes and hunt them for Principia College.  He collected arrow heads.  Hunted for the best mushrooms and made my Mom a ring that I now wear. 

     * Sarah McLaughlin:  Her music.  All of it.  An angel and dark mistress that helps me write my poetry at midnight.  Her music saved me after my first husband committed suicide and I nearly lost myself.

     * Brandi Carlile:  Singer / songwriter.  All of her music resonates with me. 

     * J. K. Rowling:  She wrote Harry Potter on notes hand written in a one room apartment with an abusive husband.  Had completed more than the first book; was well on her way to writing the second "book" - might I repeat - on paper.  Hand written.  Her husband purposely destroyed it all.  She started all over.  How horrifying. The story would not leave her.  So she bought a typewriter from a pawn shop for pennies on the dollar and typed in an apartment without furniture or heat.  She later submitted the book to a publisher that quickly rejected it.  She took her packet and deposited it to another publisher.  A small U.K. publisher later published Harry Potter and now she is not only a best selling writer, but now Universal Kingdom in Walt Disney World has a section completely devoted to Harry Potter.  Movie series.  I'm paraphrasing her past.  Her life was hard, is the main point.  She had every excuse to give up and to have every reason to. She trudged on.  I rather like quiet, warrior women.  The ones most likely to fail that rise up despite of it all. 

2.  If Your Life was Made into a Hollywood Film, Who Would be the Director?

Clint Eastwood.  He made "Million Dollar Baby" and "Gran Torino".  Say no more.  He then went on to make "Sniper" which I have yet to see.  Here's the deal, mi amigos.  When I see he's directed a movie, I ask no questions, I simply buy it.  For a single mama trying to avoid financial drama, that's saying a lot.  He captures all of the human emotions and drama perfectly and gracefully.  Good God.  "Play Misty For Me".  "The Good, The Bad, The Ugly".  Really?  Shut up.  It's a given. 

3.  What is My Quest? 

To end Domestic Violence.  To be the voice for so many women and unheard men that suffer this horror.  My abuser feeds on inflicting fear.  Thankfully, I'm a big mouth German / Irish woman that does not know the meaning of "Shut up."  It saved my life.

4.  What is My Favorite Beverage? 

Pepsi.  Fully loaded.  No diet, fake sugar "healthy" crap that causes cancer.  And pink moscato wine. I don't drink it all the time.  But I do tend to write more freely with that sweet intoxication.  I'm a fiercely private Taurus that spills my guts with the sweet wine. 

5. My Signature Dish: I make a mean roast beef and a hearty and delicious beef veggie soup, if I do say so myself.  I like my comfort foods.  I love to cook.  The crock pot is like my witch's cauldron. 

6.  My Greatest Achievement:  Being a Mommy.  I feel it is one of God's highest callings.  Watching Tot grow and learn.  Watching him watch me write and use all the "big" words makes my heart swell.  When he rushes up to me to give me kisses on my elbow or give me Eskimo kisses with spaghetti sauce painting the outline of his sweet, gushy, toddler lips.  I watch him sleep. Yep.  I'm a helicopter Mom and I'm so proud of that label. 

7.  Artist:  Florence & the Machine.  All of her.  Pick one song. Pick 'em all.  You can't go wrong.  But I'm warning ya, she's kinda like Lay's Potato Chips.  Once you've had one, you want more.

8.  What Would I do for a Living?:  A writer and a counselor to help victims of abuse.  I'd love nothing more than to be able to write and volunteer at a women's shelter to offer my advice, counsel, and prayer. 

9.  What is My Greatest Strength?:  Grace in the face of inexplicable horror.  Love in the darkest nightmare.

10.  If I Were a Car, What Make & Model Would I Be?:  Audi Q 5 SUV.  Newest make and model.  It's reliable and the perfect size for a 5' single mama.  The crash tests are phenomenal.  I may be exaggerating, but I can see Tot and me tooling in that schmancy thing.  Getting groceries.  Absolutely safe.  Charcoal gray.  Tan interior.  Lightly tinted windows.  I've done my research.  I likey.

11.  My Guiltiest Pleasure:  Once a month.  St.  Louis Bread Company.  Sierra Turkey 1/2 sandwich (minus the hot mayo) and a cup of broccoli cheese soup. ***Sigh***
I had a full body massage one time in my entire life.  That is high on my list and threatens to knock BreadCo. right outta the water for a once a month treat ; )

Oops! I forgot to ask my nominees my burning questions (Thank you, Cyclone for reminding me).
So here they are ;)

1.  If you were stranded on a deserted island and only one person could be with you, who would that person be and why?

2.  If we lived in a world without social media / technology, how would you spend your downtime?

3.  Imagine a world without any stores and it's Christmas time.  What would you make for your loved ones / friends?

4.  What flower best describes you and why?

5.  What animal best describes you and why?

6.  If you had a 30 minute meeting with the Pope, what would you most like to discuss with him in that short amount of time?

7.  What is the one family tradition that resonates with you; that you would most like to pass on to your children?

8.  What are your techniques for balancing your writing with your family, friends, and your job that pays the bills?

9.  What is your most annoying habit?

10.  What is your Zodiac sign?  Does it reflect *you* as a person?

11.   We all have that one movie we could watch over & over.  What is your all-time favorite movie?

Hands of Rain

I let the words

Slide over me

Releasing

Letting them out

Letting them in

Cascading

Hands of rain

Verses writing themselves

Again

I'm Not Mad

Ask me that question again
You all ready know the answer
But wait
Let's dissolve the sin
Green eye fire
Burning in the ire
Knife at my throat
Leaning in
The choke
Bite my tongue
So you don't feel sad
So you don't feel bad
No
I'm not mad

My Friend

My friend
Is a boy
Bestest
Bestest
Boy
Of course
I love him
He sat with me
For hours
Letting me spill my
Guts on his carpet
Telling him things
I could never tell a girl
Because quite frankly
Girls are too smitten
In  their busty world
To listen to my drivel
He
Is unequivocal
But then he vanished
No more talks
No more chats
No more
Ticks
For tacks
And now
In times like these
The cold winter
Seems
Like ice

Good Girl

I read the words
Written to someone else
Not meant for me
Now I see
She's your good girl

It's a heavy-laden endearment
Lustful procurement
Good girl
Bends
Twists
Rides
Writhes
To your every whim
And in her
You swim

So now I
Don't feel
So good anymore
I feel like all the
Smiles sent my way
Were your eyes
Looking over my shoulder
To the girl
Standing behind me
Or maybe I was always
Behind her
In a shaded
Worn-out light

The Best

You read that right
I'm the best
Not some one night flight
Write it down if it helps you
I don't stand in someone's
Listless, lustful line
Asking constantly
Where's mine
No, no, no
I know you know
I'm not third in the running
Second best with all its cunning
I'm the best
No need to test
I won't be there with my
Number two leaded pencil
Writing you love notes in stencil
As if I need to prove myself
Don't look for me
On your dusty doll baby shelf
I'm the best
And I shine

Circus Girl

She sat on the edge of the bed
Legs crossed
Tiny top foot tapping
To some imaginary beat
Eyes sparkling like a new
April morning
Tiny as they come
She spoke of all their fun

He was her lovely vagabond
Travelling in the circus
He asked her to dance
That's how it started
Their trance
She took a chance
Ran away
That very day

She giggled to herself
As she took her
Dusty heart off the shelf
Suddenly her wrinkles disappeared
And the young woman
She once was
Appeared

It was in the Depression
But her story was remiss of oppression
She started each Big Top
Dancing her bee-bop
Her clown not far behind
Her heart set on rewind
Remembering
Reminiscing
Their lovely love kissing

He died in the eighties
She sat on the bed
Amidst all her frailties
A tear sparkling her eye
But she did not cry
Too lovely the memories

Sitting Pretty

I looked in the mirror
And by God
It winked back
Slapped its lovely thigh
And gave me a high five
I ran my hands through my hair
Oooh!
There, there
Look at those eyes
Look at those cheeks
Glowing brighter
Than they had in weeks
I'm feeling so pretty
Bye, bye pity
So long sad face
I smile at myself with grace
Powder my nose
Curl my toes
I'm feeling good

Love Bird

I'm just a little Love Bird
Singing
Happy little heart pinging
Despite the sad sparrows gathering

Old Fashion Girl

Pig-tail baby
Blushing round cheeks
Saying maybe
Love song crooning
Primping
A heart swooning
Dreaming of a boy
And a quiet diner
Love's sweet roil
Drinking a malt
Talking our love talk
Holding hands
Making plans
Feet swinging happy

This kinda stuff
Always makes me
Feel so sappy

Symposium

Shut the door
We need to talk
Better yet
Just sit there
As I lay it on the floor
Everything I need
Everything I desire
Take notes
On love's anecdotes
I studied them
Now it's your turn
So just sit there
I want to make you burn
Symposium ceremonium
A power point presentation
Disregarding hesitation