A Poem By Blue April
thinking of You, Me, Us
all alone in my room
no one’s awake
thinking of you, me, us.
4:30 a.m. lying down
staring at the darkness
thinking of you, me, us.
I turn on the TV
the song plays and
I’m thinking of you, me, us.
on the floor
hours pass, all alone
again, thinking of you, me, us.
together better in a dream
so I sleep
still thinking of you, me, us
2010
2024 Creativity Check-In ✅
| Filed under assistive technology blogging nonfiction novel writing pets and people Poem reviews writing
The 2024 Creativity Check-In
“Rejected pieces aren’t failures; unwritten pieces are.”
— Greg Daugherty.
It felt like a year of rejections. I’d increased submitting my work in 2023, mostly poems. The ‘R’ dominated the accepted/rejected submissions column on my spreadsheet.
It was a pivotal point in my writing life. I admit I pouted, my husband remarked I sounded cranky. I asked a few of my trusted friends what they thought of my poems. In general, they said my poems were understandable, made them feel something and the imagery and metaphor wasn’t confusing or trite. A good response. But I wanted my poems to be better. I wanted to learn how to craft poetry with memorable themes, with a message, once read, would not be easy to forget. Based on the number of rejections from editors I was not reaching those goals, at least not yet. I did not want my work to be “nice”, I wanted my work to be “Wow”.
I was recovering from a string of serious grief provoking circumstances. The loss of my job in 2019 and the death of my first guide dog in 2020 during the height of the pandemic. Add the emotional toll my husband and I bore resulting from the death of my second guide dog in early 2023 and being estranged from our first-born child for the last five years. It is understandable I sought an avenue of expression which also proved cathartic but did not achieve the accolades I craved.
The spark of creativity fueled by the last four years of my personal journey was rich in potential themes. How to plumb those depths became my focus. I trolled the interwebs, found poets and writers who felt equally as stuck. It wasn’t writer’s block, it felt like I’d taken a wrong turn and couldn’t exit the traffic circle.
Thankfully asking others what they might do if faced with a similar creative conundrum, through personal conversations and the interwebs, I formed a plan.
Theoretically I could submit to as many publishing calls as I fancied but I first had to write the quality poems editors and journals sought. The next thing was to find poetry writing workshops and focused critique groups with good mentorship and instruction. A few weren’t the right fit. One instructor, however, offered a structured critique group and it checked all my boxes. The groups did not exceed six poets, it was conducted over Zoom, including written commentary and suggestions for each poem submitted and the sessions were recorded.
During the first session of a series of workshops in 2023 I shared I felt lost creatively and I wanted to unplug the emotions using poetry. The kind and caring attitude of not only the facilitator, john, but also the other poets, lent me the confidence to focus on capturing the emotions and crafting the imagery and metaphoric language. Being open to constructive and kind feedback from the other poets and providing my own feedback to their poems encouraged me to become more confident and adjust my assumptions regarding the messages poets mean to convey in their quest of expression within their work. What became clear to me was I could address my grief and the losses I bore using poetic devices I’d previously did not feel practiced enough to employ. Releasing emotions, experimenting with and validating and recording them on a document healed me from within.
By the end of 2023 I’d completed a few workshops and my writing friends commented positively regarding the shift in style and power of the messages expressed in my work. A second opportunity developed for a second more intimate critique group. Two other poets and I began meeting weekly for a generative fellowship. I loved reading their work. Thanks to their mentorship, I practiced how to offer kind and concise constructive feedback. A spark of hopefulness morphed into energetic motivation. I began crafting , improving and sculpting poems evident by the feedback received by both my critique group and those outside it. I was finally getting somewhere.
It’s the end of 2024 and I am happy to share the acceptance rate of my poetry submissions is much improved. The quality of my poems has also improved and my friends and colleagues have noticed. The best part of my development is I feel more in control of my creative effort and it is conveyed in my work with a confidence and flair I willingly share with both poets and those who love reading and benefitting from reading poetry. I discovered other people cared about me and my creative efforts.
John Sibley Williams: John Sibley Williams
Behind Our Eyes Writers with Disabilities: www.behindoureyes.org
Find me on bluesky: @anniecauthor.bsky.social — Bluesky
A Winter Themed Poem 🎅
| Filed under Poem
Ann Chiappetta
Winter Man
Jolly white bearded men appear
when the ground is frosted and sleepy
a ready smile and twinkle in the eye
did he pluck a candy from behind your ear?
some say he is an Urban Myth
a commercial pretense
or the world’s nicest Wise Guy
attended by a North pole mafioso
slaloming across time zones
tracked by NORAD
guest Post by Trish 😞
| Filed under Poem
If you like Trish’s post, email and let her know.
Facebook Blues
by Trish Hubschman
I’m off Facebook now.
For that, I’m not sad.
The frustration it caused was too high.
To rid of it, I’m glad.
I hope not to be gone forever.
And won’t be gone too long.
I hope to build my friends list again.
And not get the names wrong.
Being off is okay though.
It had become a tangled mess.
Facebook was too controlling and didn’t care.
A result of today’s technology, I guess.
I have no way of contacting folks,
To say I am presently not there.
That is another thing that ticks me off.
For sure, it Isn’t fair.
I’ll be back,
Just wait AND SEE.
When you get my friend request,
know it’s me.
Trish Hubschman, author of the Tracy Gayle mystery series https://www.dldbooks.com/hubschman/
😒 🙎 ☹️
Writing to Heal and poetry 📜
Being a poet I often write and finish a poem and shelve it in my mental library. When I pull it out for a poetry reading or some such project, my reactions are sometimes surprising.
I recently dusted off an older poem about my Dad’s death and it got to me. I read it during a Get What You Need and Feel Good About It podcast. The confusion, brooding tone and questioning feeling the poem elicited was powerful enough to get me all verklempt and later the same night resulted in a few dark dreams.
The poem’s meaning was meant to convey the frustration and helplessness we experience when losing a loved one. But I wonder if readers appreciate it like I do.
The poem, Salutations, is in my 2020 collection, Words of Life: Poems and Essays. Vincent Lee Gracen narrated it. His performance is haunting and beautifully stark. The intensity of his talented narration evokes the emotions of grief and loss I could not convey and I am grateful he agreed to read it.
Salutations
By Ann Chiappetta © 2020
Goodbyes were said long ago
Although I couldn’t say why.
A life of 80 years has ended
And with it, the deal making begins
Preceded by melancholy
Preceded by guilt and denial
And anger, the funereal umbrella
A Black winged shroud
Flapping and snapping
Refusing to fold.
Preceded by watching my father slowly die
A young girl’s fractured attachments
Brought on by divorce
A father’s quiescent avoidance
Built the wall in due course.
I know
Sad refrains and death’s bitter dirges
I’ve grieved since age nine
Of death and dying, what do I really know?
I question
the purity of loss, the sanctity of morning
Because I surely haven’t achieved either
With the solemnity of a widow’s attire
Or baptism by fire
Though I’ve tried.
What I know
Flutters like film strips
Time lapsed, monochrome, and silent.
In this heart and mind
All there is,
feather on stone
Wind on water
Gone.
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- 2013
Click here to listen to Vincent Lee Gracen’s reading of the poem.
August Newsletter V 2.8
| Filed under blindness nonfiction Poem
Annie Shares News volume 3 Issue 8 August 2024
Subscribe anniesharesnews+subscribe@groups.io
Visit my Website
Follow me on my Goodreads author page or my Amazon Author page.
🌻 🌄 🌅 🌆
I love this time of year, late summer is peaceful and productive for me. Pittsburgh, what I now call PGH, is filled with street fairs, farmer’s markets, and indoor and outdoor performances. What a great city. It is packed with historic locations, museums and sports arenas. I also heard a rumor PGH International airport will be adding a direct flight to Ireland. I hope it happens soon, I will be on a flight to the Emerald Isle as soon as possible. ✈️☘️
As you know, I am a poet and I am also a lifelong learner. Improving my poetry skills is and always will be a priority for me. I am currently in a small, focused poetry critique group facilitated by award winning poet, John Sibley Williams. If you are thinking about joining a small group of poets and truly wish to step up your crafting skills, a group facilitated by john is the way to go. He offers affordable workshops on writing, publishing and crafting poetry, fiction and nonfiction.
I am always looking for opportunities to share poetry with others. I would love to connect with schools, libraries and organizations who would like to consider me as a guest speaker either in person or virtually on Zoom. I specialize in speaking to children, adolescents and adults on blindness and advocating for people with disabilities. I have over fifteen years of lived experience using a guide dog and my knowledge base includes other types of service dogs and the organizations training them. My contact information is anniecms64@gmail.com or 914.393.6605.
Future plans change but I will share I am working on a new novel which will not be out until late 2025 or 2026.
Until next time, Yins –
Enjoy this poem.
TROPHIES
By Ann Chiappetta
Burnished figures on pedestals
Inscribed electroplate
Into households they gather, insidious
Conniving onto shelf and mantle place
They represent childhood paragons
Foster a competitive edge;
Rally spirits when called upon
As we leap and clear the proverbial hedge
They possess our emotions, sentiments
woven into beliefs
A bit of blanket, a toddler’s treasure
Photos that trigger grief
Even in death we cannot escape
Carved markers above bones underneath
Grassy knolls peppered with maudlin
Guardians, trophies the dead bequeath
Yet the living tend the reminders
While the dead are set free
What a breath holds dear
Spirits don’t need.
2005
Annie Shares News May 2024
Annie Shares News Volume 3 Issue 5 May 2024
Subscribe: anniesharesnews+subscribe@groups.io
Email: anniecms64@gmail.com
Blog: www.thought-wheel.com
🐝 💐 🌸 📙
Hello readers, it’s wonderful to share some items of interest with you. I’ve been juggling the release of my second contemporary novel, Imperfections and the audio book release of my first contemporary novel, Hope For the Tarnished on Audible.com . Since cloning isn’t an acceptable work around my time management skills are being put to the test. 🕰️
Beginning May 8, 2024 my blog tour will promoting Imperfections. I’ll be posting the links on Facebook. I’ll be sharing inside information about my book, the characters, the plot points and the writing life. I like to surprise people with little known tidbits, so if you follow me on FB, why not click on the blog where I am posting at the time of the tour and get to know more about me and the indie authors who support independent publishing.
My gift to you for subscribing to this blog and my newsletter is an interview I did in March launching Imperfections. The link to the MP3 is
Since moving to Pennsylvania, Jerry and I got the birding and gardening bug. We hung up a few bird feeders and a fountain. The diversity of the types of birds who come to feed is remarkable. Plus the deer, turkey, rabbits, squirrels and a large rat snake provide some excitement, 😉
The poem below is a tribute to the songbirds we hear in our yard and neighborhood.
Until next time, happy spring! 🌻
Avian Speak
Ann Chiappetta
Wee-see, wee-see, wee-see
Tufted messengers
Spring’s here
black cap flitters
cuck tuk TukTuk
yeep peek chuckle
Perched Passeri
burbles and wing beats
cherry blossom promises
Cheer up cheerio chick burr
So pretty so pretty so pretty
Drink your tea
Photo is a close up of two eastern bluebirds side by side on a cherry blossom tree branch.
Remembering Bailey a poem for NPM
| Filed under blindness Guide dogs Poem
National Poetry Month Limerick for the day
| Filed under Poem Writing Life
dreaming of a Dog
| 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?