Thought Wheel

Ann Chiappetta

Guest Poet Blue April

| Filed under blogging Poem writing

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

plutzhub@gmail.com

 

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 📜

| Filed under blogging Poem writing

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.

book cover is a contemplative snapshot of a stack of stones each holding one word of the book’s title. To the right is a concentric pattern drawn in the sand.

 

  • 2013

Click here to listen to Vincent Lee Gracen’s reading of the poem.

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/7ytt0doeiqovb8bcklict/04-17-Salutations.mp3?rlkey=pzmlawybwddba918krhpro73p&dl=0

 

 

 

 

 

 

August Newsletter V 2.8

| Filed under blindness nonfiction Poem

Annie Shares News volume 3 Issue 8 August 2024

anniesharesnews@groups.io

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

| Filed under blogging Poem

Annie Shares News Volume 3 Issue 5 May 2024

Subscribe: anniesharesnews+subscribe@groups.io

Web: www.annchiappetta.com

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

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/jalpwnf1ncdm9lp52zrgx/2024-03-21-BBL-Ann-Chiappetta-Audio.mp3?rlkey=c6r7zm08o66jkzvye7pjwqkok&dl=0

 

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

Your Name

Ann Chiappetta

 

Bathing my life in slobbery joy you

Accepted me unconditionally

If only love could  sustain you and

Let you live forever

Everyone knows a dog named Bailey

Yellow Labrador guiding  my heart

and memories.

 

For Guiding Eyes Bailey 1BB13 April 2013-March 2024.

 

Yellow lab Bailey lick's Annie's face. She is laughing.Annie and yellow lab Bailey licking her face

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?

Yellow lab Bailey one year old standing at the shor in Maine. Photo taken by his puppy raiser. Bailey died March 16, 2024, he was ten. We miss you buddy.

Yellow lab bailey posed with blue skies and clouds in the background.