Reader Appreciation Award

July 24, 2012 § 1 Comment

Reader Appreciation Award Logo

I am honored to be nominated by David Eric Cummins from The Noise of
for the Reader Appreciation Award. His blog features some great poetry and other writing, and is well worth checking out. Thanks for the nomination :).

The rules for receiving the award are:

  1. Include the award logo somewhere in your blog.
  2. Answers the 10 included questions.
  3. Nominate 10-12 blogs you enjoy.
  4. Provide links to these blogs and let the bloggers know that they’ve been nominated.
  5. Thank and link your nominator.

The ten questions:

What is your favourite color?    Teal / Blue-green
What is your favourite animal?    Cannot name one alone – Snow Leopard, Kakapo, Red Panda, Peregrine Falcon…the list goes on
What is your favourite non-alcoholic drink?    Tea
Do you prefer Facebook or Twitter?     Facebook
What’s your passion?    After my family, painting and writing
What’s your favourite pattern?    Willow pattern for the story behind it
you prefer giving or getting presents?    Giving
What’s your favourite number?    8 because when you turn it sideways it is infinity
Favourite day of the week?    Sunday because that’s our family day
Favourite flower?    Gardenia’s for their scent

Below are my nominations:

Poetry, Scribblings & Thoughts
The Memory Of Trees
Fred Turpin’s Poetry Blog
Photo Nature Blog

It was the sleep that did it…

July 5, 2012 § 4 Comments

…or rather the lack thereof. Free writing, head pillowed on the keys I type. My eyes are doomed to close. I meant to let you know which blogs I nominate for the Reader’s Appreciation Award, however coughs from the darkness have deprived me of coherent thought, concentration has fled with the deserting sun. My child, bless him, has a cold that keeps him snoring, whimpering, crying through the nights. Mummy is here, Mummy is here, the litany of motherhood. We wouldn’t have it any other way. We love them so.

I must beg your patience for another week; it was the sleep that did it…or lack thereof.

Mummy Knows Best

June 28, 2012 § Leave a comment

I wrote the last in a state of oblivious intensity, which is a common condition my writing invokes in me. Only, to put it mildly, it was a little chilly. Considering I was in the process of getting dressed when the muse descended and there was a southerly blowing, I found myself as I logged off to be shivering slightly and my fingers somewhat numb. Hence the snivels that visited this week, perhaps not helped by the fact that my wee man also has a cold, (though I would request his stamina any day). He has always insisted on running about with barely a stitch on, even in the depths of winter. Many a tantrum has raged from this. As you can imagine, Mummy knows best. I just wish Mummy were able to tell me to get dressed when I’m half-naked and typing away in oblivion.

Till next week, when the nose no longer drips and the sun shines again, I bid you adieu.

The Sweetness of Being – Deaf Girl

June 21, 2012 § Leave a comment

Tui in Kowhai Tree

She listens like a bird,
head cocked to catch the slightest nuance of breath
formed by lips of honeycombed sentences
where she is lost therein
saturated in syrup-like silence.
She doesn’t hear the liquid bell of the Tui
but watches the bob of its boa scarf feathers
and turns to me smiling.
She drinks of the sweetness of being.

The Noise of Silence

June 16, 2012 § 1 Comment

A thought for today…

The noise of silence
Deafens me with purpose
I am immersed in its green promise
Of things to come

…because today I wish to thank David Eric Cummins from The Noise of Silence for nominating The Muses Palette for the Reader Appreciation Award. I enjoy the honesty of his poetry. Two of my favourites are: and I am still considering my list of favourite blogs to nominate, but in the meantime I will say it is an honour to be read by others. In gratitude till next time…

The Final Keystroke

June 7, 2012 § 2 Comments

I am finished.

Last night I edited my last word on my Young Adult novel, ‘The Heart is an Oasis’.

The sound of the final keystroke fell into silence and I paused, as if waiting for a sparkle of fairy dust to lift me with elation or a shout of jubilation to rise to my lips. Instead there was stillness. Years of scribbling in office lunch hours or while pushing my toddler on a swing. Years of inspiration and ‘what the #@!? am I doing’ despondency…all for this? While we writers wrote, alone cramming in what words we could, others sipped chardonnay with friends or watched the latest movies, shopped, strolled, partied…and slept.  We riveted ourselves to the keyboard and screen, driving ourselves as if to prove we exist, like we don’t unless there are words, words, words…words to parade, to exhibit, to express the deep inner workings of our souls, our minds, ourselves. We are what we write.

I waited in silence, clouds scudding in a south-west wind tossing the leaves of tree ferns against the sky and the roaring rustle of needled leaves high in the pine…waiting. For what? Some inner satisfaction, a glow of triumph? The bulb burned its way into the night and murmurs from my sleeping boy reached across the hall. Waiting…he is what I’m waiting for. And for you. All of you. Waiting for validation, vindication, reparation. Waiting to know if those many hours are collated into a wondrous whole, a world in which I can touch your lives as others once touched mine. I have a story to tell.

Today I printed it.

I am made anew…albeit overtired and anxious that I have not built a veritable castle out of a sand hill. Time will inform…or rather the critical eyes of my readers. To whit I now go to hand my fragile creation to a handful of trusted reviewers.

Wish me well.

Birches in Winter

May 31, 2012 § Leave a comment

Trees in winter

White      bark and lint-flecked trunks,
branches bare as cello strings to be plucked by the wind.
I sigh into this solitude
vacate the hollowed spaces within
Let them lie fallow      untilled.
The bird      black in the boughs
shivers at the paucity      the brevity of leaves
and I in my wandering      sit on the bank
and throw stones for the thrush to mistake for snails
Hammering      yielding the soft flesh of yesteryear
But today no more
The snails are shells      empty in the blight
like my thoughts,      the sky and the trees.

From ‘Island of Feathers’
A collection of lyric writings by Marie-Claire Colyer

%d bloggers like this: