Thought Wheel

From the mind of Ann Chiappetta

NPM day five

| 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

 

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

A Lack of Motivation

| 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.

The Masher’s Last Stand

| Filed under blogging Poem writing

The Masher’s Last Stand

By Ann Chiappetta

I learned to cook prior to food preparation machines and commercial blenders

We used whisks, hand-crank mixers and potato mashers.  I stood on the Romper Room emblazoned stool beside Mom until my little arms tired. I whipped cream, eggs, and sifted flour. I was practicing to be a Suzie Homemaker, don’t you know.

 

After my parents divorced and we moved into an apartment, the budding skills became necessity. At nine I learned to scramble eggs, boil water for macaroni, and help make

meatloaf and meatballs.  The spoon with the little holes and the potato masher made the move with us.

I estimate the utensils are over fifty years old, the spoon is solid stainless riveted to hardwood handle grips. The masher is also riveted and sturdy, not even a bit of rust.

 

Dad’s carpenter’s   measuring stick   given to him by his father

was the final tool

Laid in a reverent place among elderly scrapers, hammers and planers.

Bobby, said a friend, your making mistakes, get rid of that thing.

 

The measuring tape wasn’t as fun to play with

And pinched my tender fingers more than once

Dad would release the stop and we listened to it retract as if by magic and

He would chuckle and say something about

The wonders of modern technology

Then whip out the stubby pencil from behind an ear, mark the wood

clip it back to his waist and return to work with the hand saw.

 

I pretended the curled papery shavings  from planing the wood

that fell like

Dogwood petals onto the shop floor were

Secret messages from fairies or a mouse

 

I put them to my nose and inhaled the fragrances

Cedar or pine was the best

 

Pop gardened and gave me the first taste of fresh mint

Strawberries warmed and sweetened by the sun

Pickled cucumbers in jars so big a child’s hands could not

carry or open them

My little fingers squeezed

Lupini beans from their casings as directed

By the little Italian lady visiting

From next-door

and my lips tingled from

a bit of afternoon antipasto

and my confidence was tempered

by losing a few hands of Casino

 

I tried buying lupini beans and couldn’t find them

Though I remember the card game rules and pulpy fragrant

Refinements Of the shop

And how attached I am to a few outdated implements

The telltale products of my youth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Annie Shares News Vol. 2 Issue 9

| Filed under blindness blogging novel writing

Annie Shares News Volume 2 Issue 9 September 2022

Tell a friend and help me share writing by subscribing to my low traffic email list. it’s simple. send a blank email to:

Anniesharesnews+subscribe@groups.io

🌑 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌙

Wonderful Things Afoot

 

The creative life is often compared to an ebb and flow, like tidal or moon phases. The last two months were a prime example. I barely wrote anything more than email correspondence due to being removed from our home of thirty years no thanks to asbestos contamination in our old floors. During a vacation in temporary housing via an Airbnb to await the asbestos abatement and installation of new floors, no thanks to hurricane Ida, I managed only one poem. I disconnected and it was probably for the best. I read, I soaked in the blessed silence, basked in the sun, brushed Bailey until my arm was tired, took in the evocative smells of country living and scratched my bug bites with complete complacency.

 

The day prior to our return the stress flared and another two weeks of creative cut-off overtook me, but this time it wasn’t attributed to adjusting to the ambiance of country living and black bears eating the tasty apples from the tree in the yard next to us. It was frustration and disappointment that shut me down. Our home was in chaos. Boxes from floor to ceiling, many of them unmarked. It was beyond dirty, our appliances were unplugged and left to leak all over the kitchen floor.  The list goes on but it is behind us now. It was a helpless feeling, for sure.

 

The lifeline appeared when I attended a few writing-related zoom meetings. The first was the regular Friday afternoon Writing Works Wonders  Community Call podcast streamed by the ACB Media Network. It helped me reconnect with my creativity by providing a writing prompt and it resulted in a poem which will be in a sweet little online literary pub called the Plum Tree Tavern. Then, the following week, the WWW hosts Kathy and Cheryl provided a second prompt that resulted in yet another poem, posted below, which was well received by other writers and is looking for a publication home.

 

Thanks to a fellow author and editor, Robert Kingett, I signed up for an open mic call and I read five of my more recent poems and was thrilled to receive high praise from the listeners. The facilitator followed up with me resulting in an opportunity to record one of my guide dog poems. It will be added to a poetry project for the  Chicago Public Library.

 

While writing is solitary, the sharing of it is not; the sharing is what pushes me to write, to create and keep a productive mindset.   Being good at something like writing and hearing others say my writing is good gives me a feeling of belonging and purpose. I’d lost those two aspects of self when I became blind and reclaiming them over the years felt like gluing the jagged pieces of my soul back together.

 

Opportunities abound, from online writing prompts given by Writing Works Wonders to focused feedback and email lists to connect like   in the writer’s group, Behind Our Eyes. One never knows where the opportunities and connections will appear but one thing is sure, striving to produce good writing and sharing it with readers is the goal.

I value you all, it is you, the reader, the listener, the literary compatriots, for whom I write. I will keep writing as long as you keep reading and listening.

 

 

Summer’s Book

By Ann Chiappetta ©

 

August is

A perpetual ending

Of wilting haiku blossoms

Of Heat and drought and rain on wind chimes

Of crisp leaflets capturing autumn’s promise and

open fields of earth’s parchment

awaiting to harvest and scribe

richness into Nature’s book with stories of Winter white.

 

2022

 

Dreya sends her fanciful smile your way, what’s better than a book dragon asking her friends to read more books?

This image requires alt text, but the alt text is currently blank. Either add alt text or mark the image as decorative. Dreya the red and green book dragon smiles and floats in the air with her best friends, winged books and musical notes.

 

A Poem for Country Living

| Filed under blogging nonfiction pets and people Poem

Transformation

By Ann Chiappetta

 

My City Dogs become Porch mongrels

Laying  beside the mason jar of sun tea

The basso drone of a honey bee

The snap of a Jay’s call

The aroma of a grill

A whisking breeze   bestows relief

 

It is a call to prayer

 

Soon  we  will rise

Shake free of the   delightful

porch-dog torpor

trade  the carefree for the city

But for now  we are  country hounds.

2022

 

view of field from back of vacation house, mountain can be seen  from a distance through the trees.

 

 

 

National Poetry Month Such a Sweet Nectar 🍑

| Filed under Poem writing

Nectar —  an acrostic

By Ann Chiappetta

 

 

Nothing else as quenching

Elicits flavorful tongue-bursts

Carnival of colors

Tangy pulp jewels,  vine-ripened orbs

Ambrosia’s best friend

Rainbow juice.

 

 

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

A Warm Spot

| Filed under nonfiction Poem

 

Blogging about our animals is a bright  glow in our lives.  Just when I think it can’t get any zanier around here, cohabitating with two large dogs, three cats and two guinea pigs, something  happens. Thank goodness it’s usually adorable or funny.

 

Meet Luna, a petite long-haired mix. April rescued her when she was 6 weeks old and she didn’t weigh more than a bottle of water. She is about five pounds now and won’t be a large cat. She is gentle and happy and like Bagheera/Noodle kitty, travels well in her carrier and  has made her place in the pack. In this photo she found a warm spot to take a nap, I suppose a laptop is kind of like a human lap just a bit flat.

 

Below is my tribute to Luna.

 

Kitten haiku

Sprawling Feline warm

 

from hardware and data  chips

 

cat divinity

Photo: Black kitten laying  on it’s side over open laptop computer, head and paws facing camera.

Black kitten laying  on it’s side over open laptop computer, head and paws facing camera.

 

Sharing Poetry

| Filed under Poem writing

A Blessing

By James Wright

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46481/a-blessing#mainContent

 

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans.  They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more, they begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

 

An Evening of Poetry Reminder and Special Extra

| Filed under Poem writing Writing Life

Hi readers and Listeners,
If you are reading this, it’s not too late to be sent the link joining me for an evening of poetry on Zoom. Just email me at anniecms64@gmail.com to receive the link for Thursday
‘s presentation at 7 p.m.
The link will be sent soon, so don’t delay. Until then, enjoy a special treat from me in both email and audio.

Dill and Brine
By Ann Chiappetta

Green and curved, bumps
diminutive gherkin cornichons
curved Kirby’s
Aromas bewitch salivatory glands
Jarred in glass
Brine Of herbs and salt vinegar.
Infused Tantalizing tartness
Wicked on the tongue
Olfactory humming with anticipation, the crunch
The layered satisfaction
Of Perfection.

2020

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