Archive for November, 2013

Friday Haiku

Posted in friday haiku, my words with tags on November 29, 2013 by Susan Crane

One more November
And then another winter
Days fall like soldiers



Great First Lines

Posted in great first lines with tags , on November 27, 2013 by Susan Crane

“My mother called me Silver. I was born part precious metal, part pirate.”
Jeanette Winterson


Tuesday Quotes

Posted in quotes with tags , on November 26, 2013 by Susan Crane

“I write because I am alone and move through the world alone. No one will know what has passed through me… I write because there are stories that people have forgotten to tell, because I am a woman trying to stand up in my life… I write out of hurt and how to make hurt okay; how to make myself strong and come home, and it may be the only real home I’ll ever have.”
Natalie Goldberg


Monday Writing Prompt

Posted in writing prompts with tags on November 25, 2013 by Susan Crane

Today, write a story or poem that takes place entirely in The Wigwam Motel.


Friday Haiku

Posted in friday haiku with tags on November 22, 2013 by Susan Crane

Snow piles up in drifts
Smothering all sounds but one
My still beating heart


Writers to Worship-W.S. Merwin

Posted in writers to worship with tags on November 20, 2013 by Susan Crane

The Nails

I gave you sorrow to hang on your wall
Like a calendar in one color.
I wear a torn place on my sleeve.
It isn’t as simple as that.

Between no place of mine and no place of yours
You’d have thought I’d know the way by now
Just from thinking it over.
Oh I know
I’ve no excuse to be stuck here turning
Like a mirror on a string,
Except it’s hardly credible how
It all keeps changing.
Loss has a wider choice of directions
Than the other thing.

As if I had a system
I shuffle among the lies
Turning them over, if only
I could be sure what I’d lost.
I uncover my footprints, I
Poke them till the eyes open.
They don’t recall what it looked like.
When was I using it last?
Was it like a ring or a light
Or the autumn pond
Which chokes and glitters but
Grows colder?
It could be all in the mind. Anyway
Nothing seems to bring it back to me.

And I’ve been to see
Your hands as trees borne away on a flood,
The same film over and over,
And an old one at that, shattering its account
To the last of the digits, and nothing
And the blank end.

The lightning has shown me the scars of the future.

I’ve had a long look at someone
Alone like a key in a lock
Without what it takes to turn.

It isn’t as simple as that.

Winter will think back to your lit harvest
For which there is no help, and the seed
Of eloquence will open its wings
When you are gone.
But at this moment
When the nails are kissing the fingers good-bye
And my only
Chance is bleeding from me,
When my one chance is bleeding,
For speaking either truth or comfort
I have no more tongue than a wound.

W. S. Merwin


Tuesday Quote

Posted in quotes with tags , on November 19, 2013 by Susan Crane

“I write in the morning because one is nearer to the unconscious, the source of inspiration.”
Edna O’Brien.