My Writing Journey
During this time of Lent, I often think of Mary and how she must have felt watching her son be condemned to death. She stood in anguish at the foot of the cross while her son struggled, brutally beaten and nailed to a cross. This poem is in honor of Mary and all mothers.
My Poetry book, Sunshine in the Weeds, will be officially launched on June 1st by Anamcara Press. I am proud to be a part of this family.
I want to share a few of the poems from each chapter in the coming weeks!
The first chapter is Memories and Reflection.
Grandma’s House
Memories stir as I drive by
Grandma’s buff-colored stucco house.
Most of my early years
unfolded between those walls.
Playing paper-dolls;
making Kleenex angels
endless hours watching
my brother’s train go
round and round, changing tracks.
We tried to get it to hold our Barbies
as they traveled between imaginary towns.
We played dress up in the backyard,
had cook-outs and ran with cousins;
carving our names in the old oak tree,
Or swinging in the tire.
We tried to rescue baby birds,
begging Grandma for milk
to put in doll bottles.
She nodded her head and let
us learn our lessons
of life and death.
We rode bikes and
rolled in the fall leaves that
smelled of dirt and sun.
We danced in the rain;
became pirates and princesses,
cowboys and Indians.
Such were the happy days of childhood.
Praise for Sunshine in the Weeds
Thank you, D.A. Irsik for sharing your sunshine. This deeply personal gift reflects the giver: thoughtful, generous, kind, motherly, beautiful in word and in fact. Your devotion to life and love glows in every word.
Jerilynn Jones Henrikson, is a retired English teacher who dreamed of being a writer, has produced eight books for kids, a humorous memoir, a YA novel, and a creative nonfiction novella based on her grandmother’s childhood.
I want to share a poem from “Sunshine in the Weeds,” due out in March! Watch for pre-order updates.
Winter Clouds
Barren boney-fingered trees
Reach to the heavens
Searching for
Life in winter clouds
Brooding dark filtering light
Holding back the warmth of the sun,
Teasing
With glorious sunrises
Sunsets that dazzle
Waiting for the melting
Season
Heavy with snow or icy rain
Turning the boney fingers
Into a crystal wonderland
Sometimes
Dumping random mounds
Of white, Cossack hats
Accents to counter
Starkness
Winter clouds the canopy
In nature’s rhythm
A time to gather strength
Storing nourishment preparing
Sun
Breaks through the gray quilt
And warms the earth
A peek at the fluff of white
Soon
Light will come with
The thunderheads of
Spring
And
Summer skies
A lyrical odyssey into the human heart, where love, faith, and nature intertwine. Deb Irsik’s debut poetry evokes emotions and takes you on a journey from shadows to sunshine. Explore the bonds of family, the healing power of nature, and discover the divine in the smallest moments of life.
This is a short description of my poetry collection, Sunshine in the Weeds. I am honored that those who have read my manuscript have such beautiful words to describe it.
Since we have had a good amount of snow and winter weather will share a winter poem that appears in the collection.
Winter Clouds
Barren boney-fingered trees
Reach to the heavens
Searching for
Life in winter clouds
Brooding dark filtering light
Holding back the warmth of the sun,
Teasing
With glorious sunrises
Sunsets that dazzle
Waiting for the melting
Season
Heavy with snow or icy rain
Turning the boney fingers
Into a crystal wonderland
Sometimes
Dumping random mounds
Of white, Cossack hats
Accents to counter
Starkness
Winter clouds the canopy
In nature’s rhythm
A time to gather strength
Storing nourishment preparing
Sun
Breaks through the gray quilt
And warms the earth
A peek at the fluff of white
Soon
Light will come with
The thunderheads of
Spring
And
Summer skies
I am writing today to say wow! Who knew retirement could be so busy. I have been to Italy, Arizona, Texas, and New Mexico, Missouri, Iowa. and Minnesota in a matter of 3 months. I have had my poetry manuscript professionally edited, once for grammar and once for the works. My projected launch date is March 8th, 2024.
My writing endeavors continue to grow and diversify. I found that I enjoy writing haikus because they are generally about nature and I love discovering hidden gems in our world.
Today will I share the haikus I wrote during a great retreat with my Kansas Author’s Club family and an ABC Halloween Poem.
(Nature’s Dance)
Man, striding briskly.
No time for frivolity.
Missing nature’s dance.
(Iris)
Luscious purple blooms,
Shimmering droplets of dew,
Reflecting the sky.
(Solitary Mann)
Solitary Man,
Walking, hands shoved in pockets,
Drinking morning brew.
(Water)
Water rippling swift
Soon to mate with white foam sea
Man, and wind full sail
(Leaves)
Green leaves shimmering,
Stirred by the soft morning breeze,
Soon umber and orange.
Halloween ABC’s
Abundance of pumpkins
Black cats and more
Creatures of the dark
Dracula and dragons
Emerge from imaginations
Finding footing in reality
Gargoyles and giants
Horrors and hounds
Inky black-eyed ghouls
Jumping out to frighten
Kids parading from house to house
Little ones as
Mermaids and Merlin’s
Night noises surround them
Opening their bags of loot
Princesses and Pirates
Quarry, “Trick or Treat?”
Reaching into the sugary bounty
Searching for favored treats
Tomorrow will bring bellyaches
Upset mothers will groan,
Vow to limit
What they eat and where they go
X-rays assure they will survive
Zombies’ will come next year
Well, it’s been a while since I posted but I have been busy. My writing journey has morphed into more than poetry and fiction. I have written several short non-fiction stories for consideration in Kansas publications and also a few fiction. I am exploring these genres and enjoying stretching my writing muscles.
My poetry book has been accepted for publication with Anamcara Press and we will begin serious work on getting it published this year. I am also exploring the historical fiction genre for a novel. There is so much rich history and including it in our books is a challenge to educate readers about our past.
Stay tuned for more on the curious tale of Amy Vine and her inheritance. Amy was displaced during the attempt by the British to protect children during the war and she ends up in a convent. Amy knows her first name and was found on Vine Street. Her story will unfold and she will find her place.
I recently went looking for a small nativity for John, my son, to keep in his room. We looked in bookstores, mall pop-ups, and large department stores, and sadly we discovered that the world is stealing the true meaning of Christmas. There was one small kiosk with beautiful nativities from the Holy land but otherwise, there was no indication that Christ had any part to play in this celebration.
There was an abundance of trees, Santas and elves, reindeer, gnomes, and one, or two angels but not a single Christ-child in a store. Who are we celebrating? Why are we denying Him? His birth is the entire purpose for this celebration but our retailers are afraid to have His image or name in their stores.
We might as well call it Santamas or Elfmas. It was a wake-up call for me. I know that we all get carried away but to realize that CHRIST has been made small in christmas was a painful realization.
I am sharing this poem and this post as a reminder to all of us that Jesus is the reason for this celebration. Let’s keep Christ in Christmas.
Bells are ringing,
Choirs singing,
Tidings of good cheer.
People rushing,
Fixing stuffing;
But why are we here?
A babe they’re saying,
Singing, praying,
Bethlehem, we hear
Stop the rushing.
Forget the stuffing.
Truth is strong and clear.
We’re forgetting.
That long-ago setting.
The Saviors’ birth draws near.
I recently went looking for a small nativity for John, my son, to keep in his room. We looked in bookstores, mall pop-ups, and large department stores, and sadly we discovered that the world is stealing the true meaning of Christmas. There was one small kiosk with beautiful nativities from the Holy land but otherwise, there was no indication that Christ had any part to play in this celebration.
There was an abundance of trees, Santas and elves, reindeer, gnomes, and one, or two angels but not a single Christ-child in a store. Who are we celebrating? Why are we denying Him? His birth is the entire purpose for this celebration but our retailers are afraid to have His image or name in their stores.
We might as well call it Santamas or Elfmas. It was a wake-up call for me. I know that we all get carried away but to realize that CHRIST has been made small in christmas was a painful realization.
I am sharing this poem and this post as a reminder to all of us that Jesus is the reason for this celebration. Let’s keep Christ in Christmas.
Bells are ringing,
Choirs singing,
Tidings of good cheer.
People rushing,
Fixing stuffing;
But why are we here?
A babe their saying,
Singing, praying,
Bethlehem, we hear
Stop the rushing.
Forget the stuffing.
Truth is strong and clear.
We’re forgetting.
That long-ago setting.
The Saviors’ birth draws near.
Thanks, Sally for supporting independent Authors!
Life Moments 