Citizens for a New California

No One Move

No one dares make a move
except one lone hanger swinging
in dented car's back seat
at morning red stop light.


*****

Manifesting Your Desires - The Experiments

Orange Cars Make Me Laugh

Something I’ve learned lately is that there are a lot of orange cars in my section of the planet. Maybe that doesn’t seem like much to you, but as part of my recent experiment, it means a lot to me.

Frustrated with life, I reached out to a friend who referred me to the book E-Squared (only $2.99 for the Kindle version), which is all about manifesting what we want into our lives. This subject isn’t new to me. I’ve been studying it off and on for years. It seemed I needed a refresher though and this book was perfect.

Now I’m not usually one to focus on material items. I have always been nonchalant about money, which in some ways has been my downfall. Anyway, when I read the first assignment, I decided to work on manifesting orange cars into my daily routines.

Yeah, yeah, there’s that old argument about whether or not I’m “manifesting” them or just bringing my attention to what was already there. Either way works for me.

I had two days to count the number of orange cars I saw. The first time I went for a drive after reading the book, I laughed so loud my son asked me what was funny. An orange car had pulled up next to me within about two minutes of getting on the road.

Over the time frame of the experiment, I really didn’t see that many orange cars; two or three at most. However, since the end of my allotted two days, I continue to see about one orange car a day, and it’s never the same one. I live in a small town and pretty much stick to the same schedule from day to day which makes that fact a little more convincing to support the theory that yes, I do create my reality.

Since reading the book, other interesting things have come into my life.

A separate exercise was to choose something material I wanted to gain ownership of in my life. I decided I wanted to manifest a new wardrobe. I wasn’t all that clear about what I wanted because part of me didn’t believe I could make it happen. So I tried focusing on the feeling I would have if I did receive a bundle of new clothes.

After a few weeks, I forgot about the clothing. I didn’t want to feed any negative energy into disbelieving it. At the same time though, I kept seeing those orange cars. And I started finding change on the ground again. (Since this is all part of my little experiment, I never pass by a stray penny.)

About a week ago, my husband went into the garage to get down the Christmas decorations, so I asked him to see if there were any bins of clothing up in the rafters. (By this time, my wardrobe experiment had been “put away” in my mind.) He handed three bins down to me. As I opened each one, I found piece after piece of clothing I hadn’t seen in several years, some of it still with tags on it. I was so excited, I found myself thinking it’s just like getting a new wardrobe. Ding, ding, ding! Experiment results had come in. I had manifested my desire. And the universe delivered in an unexpected way which made it even more fun.

There is much more to this philosophy, I agree. (Because I know that’s what you’re thinking, right?) What about crime victims or people with “bad luck”? That goes much deeper and is a subject for a whole other blog post.

For now, every time I see another orange car, I remember that I am creating my reality, and then I check in with myself to see whether I’m attracting a positive or a negative existence.

What about you? What are you manifesting in your life?



*****

If you enjoyed this post, you might like to read one of my other posts on a similar subject: 

• Follow Your Dreams 
• Creating Yourself and Your World

*****

[Thanks for stopping by. My friend, Claudia, who referred me to the above-mentioned book is an artist, among other things. You may view the paintings she creates with her other half, Vito, for sale on Etsy.]

*****

Saying Goodbye to National Novel Writing Month

Just because National Novel Writing Month is over doesn’t mean my book is finished. 

This year I scrambled to put together a rough outline: one I could refer to when my pantsing hands were stuck. It came in handy. My work-in-progress is just over 50,000 words (so far) and even better, my 13-year-old daughter approves of my story. She liked it so much, she left a note on my iPad saying my story was “amazingly written” and that she could “not put it down.” That’s enough to keep me writing through to the end.

A funny thing: You know me and license plates, right? I don’t always read into them (it just sort of happens), but today I saw one relevant to my story. It was perfect timing because tomorrow morning I have a date with my writing partner to carry on with our novels. And yes, I will leave you hanging.

Something About Turtles

For tonight, I am creating mini-chapbooks of my poems. Each book contains six pieces.

 

Mini Poetry Chapbooks

But back to novels. 

Many of my friends also “won” NaNoWriMo. Does that mean they finished their stories or just wrote the required 50,000 words? I’m not sure.

How about you? Did you participate and, if so, were you able to make it to the end? 

Happy writing!

*****

How to Break through Writer Self-Doubt

Self-doubt. Yep, that’s where I’m at in my National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) journey. Or at least it’s where I was at this morning.

Escape from Writer Self-Doubt

I’ve smoothed that away for now.

You see, I’ve been writing all month without worrying too much about how it’s coming out; I think my writing is better than the last time I participated in this crazy “competition.” I’ve been devouring writing craft books like an addict.

I understand story structure better now (among other things).

A couple of weeks ago I had my daughter read what I’d written and she approved. Since my book is YA, that made me happy. Last night though, when I tried to explain the story to her and her friend, I couldn’t tell them exactly where it’s going. Yes, even though I made an outline, it’s still coming out pantser-style.

I also haven’t managed to narrow this story down to one line. Yet.

After that moment of clarity, I distracted myself: I looked at vegan fudge recipes; I had a tickle fight with my son and dog; I read one of the many books in my stack, “Blink” by Malcolm Gladwell; I read another book on craft, "Story Engineering" by Larry Brooks. Larry's books helped me a lot, by the way. I'm on my second read-through.

        

Still, I went to bed frustrated.

Then this morning during my trip to Trader Joe’s for pumpkin fudge supplies, I came upon a car that had “ELF” on its license plate. This wouldn’t normally stand out except this is the third time in two weeks I’ve seen that word on a license plate (and not on the same car).

Seconds later, I saw “PAP” on another plate, which helped me to understand: The character Elf (from the movie “Elf”) goes to New York City to meet his dad; I felt safe in deciding it was my dad saying hello.

As soon as I’d made that conclusion, I came upon another car that said, “New York Times Best Selling Author” on it. I kid you not. (And yes, I did speed up to see who was driving that car. Ha ha!)

As I was flipping between fantasy that my dad was telling me my book was going to be the next big hit--and self-doubt--another car pulled in front of me with “NYT” on it.

So was all of this craziness a message from dad? I like to think so.

Was he telling me my book is the next New York Times best seller? Not necessarily. (Hey, I'm trying to be positive here!)

I believe it was a message for me to let my frustration drive off into the distance so I can keep pecking away at the keyboard.

Whether it’s a best seller or not isn’t the point. This NaNoWriMo process is teaching me about how to break through my frustrated-writer days and keep on going. It is also teaching me about how I function best as a writer and how I can become better.

So How Can You Break through Self-Doubt?

• Compare yourself to nobody else.
• Write without editing.
• Come up with a general outline and then connect the dots, filling in the spaces between the plot points.
• Focus on your word count.
• Find something to help you get “outside your head.” I listen to a radio station I created on Pandora called “Liquid Mind.”
• Utilize prompts to break through moments of frustration. For the month of November, follow @NaNoWordSprints on Twitter.
• Write with a buddy.
• In your non-writing time, read about the craft of writing or read fiction and note what you think works or doesn’t work.

I hope and have faith that with increased knowledge, my days of self-doubt will grow fewer in number. Ultimately, it will be the drive inside myself that will keep me going.

Write on!

Are you participating in NaNoWriMo? I would love to know how you've been doing all month and if you have any tips for writing through the month. Thank you!

*****

Always Learn From Nature

Birds Helping Birds

November came and with it, six

Birds of Paradise who peeked

out from solstice lull, beaks

pointed towards sunless sky

and winked at me as humming-

birds dipped and dived

inside for an autumn drink, made

me thankful nature's beings care

for each other when man

isn’t looking.

*****

I've been so focused on my NaNoWriMo work-in-progress that I've been limping along with the PAD Chapbook Challenge at Poetic Asides. I managed to squeak the above poem out for the Day 20 prompt though: 

"For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Always (blank),” replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Always on My Mind,” “Always Wrong,” “Always Writing Poems That Don’t Sound as Good the Next Day,” etc."

*****

People in Trees by Mikola Gnisyuk

Mikola Gnisyuk, “People in Trees” (via Baibakov Art Projects)

Stranger than Strangers

Perched on birch tree
limbs, they posed like squirrels 
resting, nibbling acorn meat, on high
alert for anything
out of the ordinary, mainly natives
beneath them
creating footsteps
in winter’s first dusting. 

*****

Written for the Day 11 PAD Challenge prompt: 

For today’s prompt, we’re going to write ekphrastic poetry–or poetry based off another piece of art. In the past, I’ve provided paintings, but today, I’m picking photographs (for something a little different). You may use one of the images below or choose your own.

*****

Inanimate Objects - The Necklace

Scrambling to keep up, this poem will need some more editing. But for now, you get the rough cut. Day 8 of the November PAD Chapbook Challenge.

Break the Chains

Heart-Shaped Necklace

Oh brittle heart, the hand
that shaped you, jagged,
flawed, once part drink
and shell, where pearls bloomed
from sand and friction, you embody
lover’s loyalty through lifetimes,
memory loss, meetings anew,
the heart placed in man-
made holder to be embraced
upon a throbbing chest, the one
he loved best, or so he swore,
for one minute stretched
beyond her mind past
infinity of time. Oh brittle
heart, you’re out of order now,
imperfections brought you down
sold the heart from love’s
weightless words, now just
a broken chain, forgotten
inside dusty drawer.


*****

Why Bother Writing Poetry?

The past couple of days have been productive for me. I participated in the NaNoWriMo writing sprints and overcame the stuck place I was in on the book I'm writing. I'm moving right along in my class, have been selecting works for the January issue of Mouse Tales Press, and I'm also watching 2013 pass me by. 

How is it November already?

I need to catch up on the November PAD Challenge. The poem below is not part of the challenge. It's just something I've been thinking about for a while. If nobody reads your work, does writing matter?

The Empty Forest Lives On

Silence in My Penned Forest

My words are a birch
tree, fallen in autumn wind-
storm, no one around to hear.

*****

Is Mid-Life Crisis Real?

Yes, I now understand that it is indeed real, and what it's all about. My train has arrived there. 

Part of the stage I’m going through, I’m sure has been brought on by my entrance into pre-menopause. I feel the “old” slipping away. Some of it is exciting, knowing I’m leaving it all behind to make way for the new. It’s also a little scary. And sad. I have to grieve for what has gone or is going away.

I don’t spend every day thinking about the people in my life who have "died" (literally or figurartively), though I know I write about it a lot. Sometimes I am moved to write a poem about one of them.

I tried some Zentangle this morning (thanks, Sabra, for officially introducing me to that term). Nothing good came out of it. At least no good art, but it got my emotions flowing.  

Wishing Farewell to the Old

I’m Your Paper Doll

My shape has been
captured, a cardboard cut-
out, too stiff to bend, water dis-
integrates me into softened
soggy mess, won’t dry
back the same
as before the flood. Throw
me into a box, an outfit
for each day. Stuck
in that black one
I wore to your
funeral.

*****

The Last Time I Was Stumped

Yes, I skipped Day Two (for now). This was written for the Day Three PAD Challenge prompt: 

"For today’s prompt, write a “the last time I was here” poem. Imagine you’re returning to a spot (physical, emotional, psychological, etc.): Is it a good thing? Bad thing? What did you leave behind (if anything)? What’s there to welcome you back (again, if anything)?"

 

Hopefully the Last Stump

The last time I was here,
resting on a stump, splintered
by word overload, alphabet
soup stewing in my brain,
trying to contain misplaced
energy, rope it, wrangle it,
pull it back in until frayed ends
meet-and-greet new beginnings
at restless fingertips,
keyboard, or unsharpened
tongue. I wish I could say the last
time I was here was the last
time, and words lived
happily ever after, but last
times always circle back around
to first times, rolling
like a stump, bumping
and jumping over earth’s
word(l)y imperfections. 

*****

(It Appears) The Ship Has Landed

This was written for Day 1 of Robert Lee Brewer's November PAD Chapbook Challenge.

Where Astronauts Lift Off

You told me you would
make an appearance
after you lifted off, give me
a sign, a signal, a cue
to take a heavy
breath once your now breath-
less body had arrived
at its new destination,
weightless, where breathing
is not a requirement, where
you can be nowhere
and everywhere all at once.
Your message came by text.
It said you went on the voyage
of a death
time; in space there is no
oxygen. In Heaven, there
is no need.


*****

Chestnuts Roasting in My Mind (Memoir Challenge Thoughts)

Earlier this year, I had the idea to play along with JaneAnn Mclachlan’s October Memoir Challenge, hoping it would help me overcome an emotional block I’ve been struggling with for several months.

This marks the year I have finally started feeling like my dad’s death is real. Could that be the cause? Whenever I think that could be it, I am brought right back to him and the denial again. He can’t be gone because he’s right here in everything around me. Yesterday it was classical music. Today it’s chestnuts.

Chestnut Brains

They look a little like brains, don’t they?

They are full of flavor and memory; full of being barefoot in a flannel nightie next to the fireplace, waiting for them to roast. Full of excitement of knowing my whole family would be together. Full of placing cookies and milk in the garage for Santa Claus. (I’m not sure why we put them there though I suppose it was near the fireplace.) 

What are your favorite holiday memories?

*****

My Life in Your Circus

The below poem was written for this week's Poetic Asides prompt: 

"For this week’s prompt, write a circus poem. It could be a three-ring circus, media circus, flea circus, or any other interpretation. It could be about people in the circus or those watching the circus. It could be about animals, clowns, tents, vendors, peanuts, etc."

(Don’t) Take Me to the Circus

Please do not clown
around with my heart, force
me to balance bowling pins

(and your insecurities)

on my head or chin, toss

me peanuts to make up

for your lack
of attention (when
I was nuts about you), make me
travel your tightrope without being

there to catch me when I fell
(for you). Spend some time walking
in my over-sized

shoes. You will see

I became my own ring-

master when you left me.

*****

Mother Sky

The sky showed its spine this morning.

Sky's Spine

There was a fire somewhere nearby; I wonder if that had something to do with it. Here's the layer of smoke covering a neighborhood adjacent to my daughter's school.

Smoke Disguised As Clouds

Have a wonderful day!

*****

Tanka For Two (A Somonka)

Still Photographs

You rise every
day, my face in your pocket,
rubbing flesh red, raw.
I’m a sore spot you can’t feel.
I’m a prize you don’t dare keep.

You pushed me away,
greedy wants, needs, and wishes.
No me left to give.
I dream of you in black-and-
white. You’re my little secret.


*****

Yes, Women and Men Do Think Differently

I'm sure you know this already. We are different creatures. It's nice to keep that in mind before jumping to conclusions. 

The below poem is composed in the fun poetic form called somonka, written for the prompt at Poetic Asides. There may be a bit of truth in these words.

She Thought, He Thought

Every morning
I wake to coffee dripping
from your hands to my
heart. It stays in the kitchen.
You leave me an empty mug.

I tiptoe around
the house letting you sleep in
while I dress for work.
Coffee waits for your waking,
a pot of love and longing.

*****

Eighteen Feet - Sea Monsters Do Exist

This poem is written for the Poetic Asides prompt, "Fishy," and in honor of the sea creature found off the coast of California. 

What Lives Under the Water?

Oh, sea monster found

off the coast of Catalina,
your weighty carcass carried
by sea sand and waves
the way it did when you were
swimming. Sixteen
people hoisted you out, clutching
at eely skin, your power
plucked away by seedy depths
of death's grasp, planting
gripping nightmares of sea
creatures in all who dare dip
with risk of mystifying
creatures, set to visit
during closed-eyed midnight
dips, shock us back to the reality
we are not the lone
commanding inhabitants
of this great planet.

*****

If You Forget Me, Read This

Written in response to the most recent Poetic Asides prompt: 

For this week’s prompt, take the phrase “If You (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Possible titles might include: “If You Dare,” “If You Read Poetry,” “If Your Friends Jump,” etc.

Read Letters Never Sent

If You Forget Me, Read This

Let this pen warm your finger-
tips with energy
of the living, your eyes,
gaze down upon blank
poems waiting to be filled
with lines of longing
and left behind. Let the air
I breathe in recycle
from your lungs to pop-
lar trees swaying their way
through to my love-
less forest. Let the blue(s)
played by my skies
accompany jazzy sunset lover’s
embrace beside
while sealing away dripping
kisses in envelopes
of perfumed droplets, blood-
shot tears shed at the loss
of something I only
ever had in my mind.
Let yourself take
it all in and know you
have never been.
Let yourself know
you will never be
forgotten.


*****

Reading the Rocks

You Are Following Your Nature

The road I traveled

with you in the palm of
my hand has crumbled, slid
to river’s edge below. “Street
Closed” sign keeps me out
while lookiloos ignore
all warnings, steer their tanks
and 4-wheel-drives around
to get a peek of what once
was, prove you are wrong, tend
to the weeds surrounding
your freshly-paved youth.
But you, a million pieces
scattered all across river’s edge,
thirsting, moistening yourself with each
and every drop before you dis-
intergrate back to earth. You
can’t see me looking over
deadly cliffs, wishing I could
travel that road with you again. 


*****

Written for the Poetic Asides prompt, "On the Road Again."

*****

Are You Secretly Sick?

Written for the Wednesday Poetic Asides prompt, Illusion. 

Her Suffering is Her Secret

Ill(usion)

She wears a smile around
her space, bounce in her
curls, walks with endless
grace. Her time is shorter
than the rest, no need to spend
it irritated, regurgitating
woes of aches and bodily
failures. To the world, youth
has blessed her like no
other. Inside, age has had its grip
on joints and muscles
from the moment of her arrival,
fighting for survival, story
of an illusion only she
has read. 

*****

You Can Do It - Your Dreams Will Tell You So

As some of you might recall from one of my earlier posts, “Follow Your Dreams,” I often look to my dreams for assistance in guiding my life.

Not Too Much Truck to Handle

Just last night I had an unusual dream in which I was driving a semi. I had pulled it onto a narrow street where there was no room to turn it around or get out. I stepped outside of the truck cab, feeling defeated. I was stuck.

After a few minutes though, I got back inside, determined to get it out of that place.

It was easy after all!

I backed it up just a bit and then gassed it back out onto the street. I saw a stairway ahead. I could hear all of the people’s thoughts. You’re never going to make it. You can’t drive a semi up there!

I ignored them. Yes, I could - and I would - drive a semi up those steps.

I proceeded.

I made it to the top where bystanders were staring, their mouths hanging open, amazed at what they had just witnessed.

As a reminder, in dreams, cars are a symbol of your life, so in essence, my car/life has turned into one I can hardly handle, morphing into “too much truck for me.”

Once I stepped away from it for a minute, I was able to let go of my frustration and believe in myself, regardless of what others thought. And then I accomplished what everyone doubted in me.

So if you doubt yourself and your dreams, I am here to verify, as witnessed in my dream:

 Your life is not too much truck for you. You can do it!

*****

Six Years Gone - Missing Dad

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my father’s death, but September also marks another anniversary. It’s the month in 2010 that I started Mouse Tales Press, named in honor of my father’s childhood nickname for me.

Every year that has passed until now, I’ve had a hard time believing he is gone. Somehow, some time this year, I finally accepted it. Or maybe it has just sunk in that it's real.

My emotions, once raw and close to the surface, now feel buried. I’ve somehow shut them away. But I don’t want to be like that. I want to feel them. I don’t think tears or sadness are a sign of weakness. I think they are a sign of strength.  

Anyway, I sense this is why I’ve struggled with my writing the past couple of months.

Yesterday though, I had some sort of break in that struggle. I started a series of poems that gave me an idea for a handmade poetry/art book. Two of the poems are being sent out on postcards, so I can’t reveal those yet.

Below is a taste of the project that may mean nothing to anyone else. Still, I feel it’s something I have to do.

Look Carefully and You Will See

Six Years Gone

On the eve of your (death)
anniversary, a lone shoe
follows me down streets, busy
and quiet. I wonder
who lost that shoe. I realize
you have no feet
anymore. Suddenly,
jogging makes me cry.

*****

(I wrote this last night. Today is the anniversary.)

*****

Day 10 - Postcard Poetry Project - Second Honeymoon

I thought writing a short poem would take the pressure off, but in reality, shorter poems can be much harder to write. In any case, below is what I cranked out for Day 10.

On a side note, I see that this whole "project" is actually called the Postcard Poetry Fest. Oops! I have made a mental note and all future references will be to this name instead of Postcard Poetry Project.

Thanks for stopping by!

*****

Day 9 - Postcard Poetry Project - Smashed

This is my Day 9 postcard which I glued one of my favorite drawings onto. I know this style is not everyone's taste, so hopefully the recipient will like it. To me, it is an accurate representation of the woman in the poem.

Drawing by Linda G Hatton

Smashed by Linda G Hatton

I haven't decided whether or not to continue posting these on my blog. I really need to start sending submissions out again. Time will tell! Thanks for stopping by.

*****

Day 7 - Postcard Poetry Project - (Un)Lucky Girl

Day seven of the Postcard Poetry Project is devoted to the girl who seemingly has everything. If you look past the surface though, you may see that she does not.

(Un)Lucky Girl by Linda G Hatton

Collage Art by Linda G Hatton

More to come!

*****

Character Sketch - Do Not Disturb

Recently I participated in WriteOnCon (thanks to Sarah Turnbull for telling me about it!), a "FREE Online Children’s Writers Conference (rated MC-18, for Main Characters under 18 only)" where one of the participating writers, L.L. Tisdel, who is also an artist, offered her skills to sketch the main characters from the books of any writers who were interested. 

Now despite the conference character age rating, there was a New Adult Fiction category on the site, which is why I decided to join in. New Adult Fiction is a developing genre of fiction that contains main characters between the ages of 18 - 25. My main character is in her early twenties and still figuring out her way in life. 

My work-in-progress, Do Not Disturb, is about a young woman/hotel maid, Sherri Mason, who steps into the center of secret packages, murder, & her late father’s ghost story after she moves back to her hometown in hopes of uncovering the mystery of why he abandoned her when she was a child and how he died shortly thereafter. 

This is the sketch of my character:

I love it! Tisdel is super-talented and did a great job. I hope you'll check out more of her work at her website.

Anyway, I've had some difficulty determining what genre to place my book into. It has elements of a cozy mystery, and there's also that ghost theme, so the supernatural genre has occurred to me. After reading through various feedback though, the thriller/suspense genre seems to fit.

It was a good learning experience and I recommend it for next year to all you children's book through new adult authors out there. 

For now, I still have a blog hop to answer to, so that's one of the things on my to-do list. Read about what I got tagged for at funny lady, J.B. Everett's Mobyjoe Cafe. Also, be sure to visit her at Momaiku, where "Behind every good mother is a child pushing her buttons."

*****

Day 6 - Postcard Poetry Project - Pigeon Hold Her

Day six of the Postcard Poetry Project flowed naturally. I'd just spent a wonderful day with my son at the science center where we had lunch surrounded by pigeons. I loved the way he interacted with the birds. And so this poem was born.

Pigeon Hold Her by Linda G Hatton

Pigeon Kiss

*****

Postcard Poetry Project - Day Five - Feeling Figgy

This poem was inspired by a lovely one I received about figs written by Nessa Jay Merakithat. Thank you, Nessa!

I could not format this poem on the postcard, so I decided to type it in how I wrote it, although looking it over now, I see it could use some (more) editing. 

Fig-Mented

She wrote about figs, meaty
fruits resembling lusty
body parts when cut
open. She let them
rot in her drive-
way. She let them
steal her drive
away. She stood there,
she let them, watching
helplessly, writing about how
she could not
touch them. How
she could not
let them touch her, those meaty
fruits resembling lusty
body parts.

*****

Postcard Poetry Project - Days Three and Four

So far I'm doing pretty well at keeping up with the Postcard Poetry Challenge. It's the other things in life I'm struggling with. For instance:

• Maybe my work-in-progress needs a new title.
• Maybe it should just be thrown into the fire.
• Maybe I should not worry so much? (It's just a phase, dahlinks. Just a phase.)

Below are my Postcard Poems for days three and four. Yes, Dad has been on my mind. In the first postcard, there is a message to her dad written on the picture. I guess that's why I was drawn to the photo.

Day Three Postcard

Day Three - Pushing Up Daisies by Linda G Hatton

Day Four Postcard

Day Four - Home Movies by Linda G Hatton

I'm learning some things through this process, such as how hard it is for me to write clearly with a pen anymore. I used to have the best handwriting. I imagine it's like riding a bike though. If I revert back to handwriting my journals the way I used to, it will come back to me, right?

Also, a couple of the postcards I've received had been postmarked over the top of the poems, so I'm trying to write mine farther down from the top edge now. 

Since I've been using a felt tip pen on some, I wonder how they are holding up through the mail. I hope they are not getting wet and then smearing. 

I think I might even like to continue with this when August is over. We'll see how I am at the end. 

*****

2013 Postcard Poetry Project - Day Two - Missing You

The goal was to write a poem based on the postcard I had received in the mail before sending this one out. I had not yet received one yet though. And since this one was going to Australia, I decided not to send a handmade one (for fear it would not hold up).

I bought this one on my recent trip:

Missing You by Linda G Hatton

*****