There once was a sailor named Justin
He owned a boat that was old and rusting
He went out for a sail
Forgetting his pail
And swam back to shore huffing and cussing.
| Filed under Poem Writing Life
| Filed under blindness Guide dogs Poem
Double Dreams of My dog
Ann Chiappetta
I
Dreamt of
My dog’s escape
The door was open
Heartsick I panicked
Searched, begged
fruitlessly
for his
return. I watched
all those I lost
drive off with Mom
Bailey Bailey Bailey
I called
Silence
But then
Someone called, urgently
I have
him
My hand
Touches the leather
this collar familiar but
Not my dog
Could this
Dream
Dog Be
my future partner
or is it merely
a wishful
thought?
| Filed under Poem writing Writing Life
I am sharing the acceptance letter with you.
If anyone reading this would like me to send the poem via email, please let me know: anniecms64@gmail.com I cannot share it publicly until after it is published in the anthology.
I’ve been working hard improving my craft and style. In 2023 I submitted my work to ten publications and was accepted to three.
Dear Ann,
It is Oprelle Publication’s great honor to congratulate you on being chosen as the
Third Place Winner in the
2023 “Coming Home” Poetry Contest
This contest was uniquely challenging in that the competition drew awarded and published writers as well as complete novices …where so many times, we find diamonds! Needless to say, the Coming Home competition always draws some tough contenders. Our judges really enjoyed your poem, Where the Heart Lives.
Your lines like,
“ Presence
Human touch
Holding hands before
Slipping off to sleep“
will not soon be forgotten. We really enjoyed your poem’s gentle journey in imagery and thought.
Your writing will gain excellent exposure because your poem and name will be featured in the upcoming “Coming Home” Anthology. The book will be in a 5.5 by 8.5 layout. We are looking forward to a really beautiful paperback later this year.
Annie Shares News Volume 2 Issue 12 December 2023
Subscribe: anniesharesnews+subscribe@groups.io
Blog: www.thought-wheel.com
🎅 🤶 🌲 💖
Christmas and holiday greetings, readers. In these trying times of war and strife, peace and joy are elusive and sometimes difficult to express. It is for these reasons I am writing this newsletter. My purpose, as insignificant as it may be, keeps me grounded and it is my hope it helps someone else to keep the hope going.
I am pleased to report my second novel, Imperfections, is being sent to the independent book publishing company, DLD Books for formatting. The release is planned for spring 2024. It’s been a long and rewarding path for the writing of this story. It is less biographical and I hope different enough for readers to rave about. I’ll be telling you all more about it in the January 2024 newsletter.
Also in my Sharingdom, Smashwords/D2D is launching an End-of-year eBook sale from December 15 to January 1, 2024. The sale will include genres from children’s books to horror titles. Upwelling: Poems, my first poetry collection is free and my other titles are discounted. eBooks make great gifts! 🎁🧧
Save this promo link so you can shop as soon as December 15 rolls up:
https://www.smashwords.com/shelves/promos
Of course, by now, being a subscriber to this newsletter, you are aware I am a person with a disability. I support other writers with disabilities as well as promoting my own writing and books. One such writer, Patty L. Fletcher, is the person who had a role in assisting me to find my own path to independent publishing. I am excited to include the information for readers to check out her new book.
The Blended Lives Chronicles: Sides of the Order.
If you prefer an anthology, check out this one, hot off the indie press, Behind Our Eyes 3 A literary Sunburst. It is written and edited by writers with disabilities and the proceeds from the sale of the book go directly to funding the Behind Our Eyes organizational literary programs , most offered free-of-charge. Sales will also assist in the costs of publishing their biannual literary magazine, Magnets and Ladders.
My gift to you is a recording of the poem, Little Tree by e.e. Cummings. Below is the text.
[little tree]
“little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower
who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly
i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don’t be afraid
look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
put up your little arms
and i’ll give them all to you to hold.
every finger shall have its ring
and there won’t be a single place dark or unhappy
then when you’re quite dressed
you’ll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they’ll stare!
oh but you’ll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we’ll dance and sing
“Noel Noel”
| Filed under Poem
Happy Holidays to all.
🌲 🤶 🎅
Below is the text of Little Tree, a poem by e. e. cummings. The reading of it is also part of this post. I hope you enjoy it. As for the poet, e. e. cummings – he was a poet before his time. Born in 1874 in Cambridge, Massachusetts, he experimented with breaking literary traditions, hence the lack of capitalization and punctuation in his work.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/E._E._Cummings
[little tree]
“little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower
who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly
i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don’t be afraid
look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
put up your little arms
and i’ll give them all to you to hold.
every finger shall have its ring
and there won’t be a single place dark or unhappy
then when you’re quite dressed
you’ll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they’ll stare!
oh but you’ll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we’ll dance and sing
“Noel Noel”
Last week I boarded the train on a trip from Pittsburgh Pennsylvania to New Rochelle, New York. The ride, about eight hours in total, lacked the typical stressors of airplane travel. I’ve always liked trains and after this longer trip, I discovered the rails do something I never noticed before. They sing.
During a handful of long stretches, the familiar clickety-clack we all associate with a moving train faded and a resonating hum emitted. I found it hypnotizing; since I am not a musician I don’t know if the notes were in a major or minor key or which key. It started with a low note and increased until the note reached a soprano and ended. The audible phenomenon lasted only a short distance and varied. Think of a finger circling the lip of a wine glass on a grander scale.
Rail Song
By Ann Chiappetta
Rails and wheels marry
Sharing the miles
Conversations carry
Conductor sashays past
In the distance the horn blast
Rebounds reaches the last car.
Pastoral corridor lulls
The song is heard
A message
It conveys
The paring of rail and wheel
The joy of invention.
Disembarking upon arrival
from west to east .
The urge to thank the thrumming metal beast
For performing it’s rail song
Twitches fingers
Stays with me.
| Filed under blindness Poem Relationships
Annie Shares News Volume 2 Issue 10 October 2023
anniesharesnews@groups.io Subscribe anniesharesnews+subscribe@groups.io
www.annchiappetta.com Blog: www.thought-wheel.com
🎃 🍂 🍃
Autumnal greetings!
The most important announcement is we are now living in Pennsylvania. Western PA cozied up beside Pittsburgh. We found a lovely one level house. It came equipped with solar panels, three bedrooms, 1.5 baths, laundry, den, picture windows, garage and a beautiful, fenced yard. Not too much to maintain and plenty of living space.
I can’t wait to celebrate the holidays here and welcome visitors who will be able to stay in the guest room.
In writing news, Hope For the Tarnished is being narrated and it is halfway done. My second novel, Imperfections, is scheduled for a spring 2024 release.
I am looking forward to winter routines like drinking hot tea, slurping soup and cooking stew in our crock pot. And now I am also a Steelers fan. 😉
Here’s to a blessed month. Until next time.
The move has inspired me to write a few poems. Here’s one I wrote the day we moved from the apartment in New York.
Moving Day
By Ann Chiappetta
An empty room
Where once life’s evidence —
the energy and the sound Saturated
Now Sparseness joins
echoes. Memory echoes
touch echoes visual echoes
Present yet empty.
Why I Haven’t Been Blogging
By Ann Chiappetta
Dedicated to 2023 National Poetry Month
I haven’t been blogging
Because my mind is fogging
From NPM – rest assured I’ve been writing
Scribbling, typing and scribing
Alphabetically, in fact
Abecedarians, ballads and couplets
Haiku, Limericks a letters
Verses penned about purple purses or petals
The view to the summit is near
And it looks like the terrain is clear
Yet The flag is yet to be unfurled
And the completion of NPM
Will be celebrated by the world
When it is uncurled —
And next year we will grab our literary packs
And retrace the poetic path to the summit
Inspired by a poetry-lined path.
| Filed under nonfiction Poem
The Ride
To Pepsi, the best horse I ever rode.
By Ann Chiappetta
forge the stream On docile
chestnut Appaloosa. Hooves
splash and click on submerged stones
this is big country air crisp and wild
A split trail. Guide points
“Mountain lion won’t look for you there. You got two hours, follow the stream to get back,”
Horse and rider brush Past weeping willows and wildflowers.
A light shake of reins, a tap of heels
Trot, canter, galloping
horse jumps. clears mud puddle
rider flies,
lands with a wet plop
on back, breathless
warm breath, big nose nuzzles face
mud splattered Eyes open
soft equine gaze says,
“Hey, let’s finish the ride,”
Lake Tahoe, Nevada September 1980
| Filed under blogging Poem Relationships Writing Life
Motivation Acrostic
By Ann Chiappetta
Most days it is present
On the days it is absent
Touching the creativity fails, dispersed
Into me, whispering within, like
Veins packed with scribbled, microscopic cells
Alphabet infused molecules jumbled
Twisting and turning liquid
Impossibly
Overflowing with brain food I’ve
No chance of catching.
What can I say? Some writing days are better than others. One good thing that helped me write this poem was being able to end a writing-related gig I found no longer provided the inspiration I needed to support my writing style. A pressure has been alleviated and I feel much better. Being a Pisces is complicated. ♓
I learned what I don’t want to write and what type of writing gig could be more enriching for me.