The Poetry, Essays, and Short Stories of Dawn Anderson The Writing Forum’s Writer of the Month - August 2010 Page 1 of 2 NEXT - Page 2         Website Home Page   AUTHOR’S BIO: Dawn Anderson was born and raised in Connecticut, but now lives in Milan Italy with her family, where she teaches English as a foreign language. She is the author of several award winning short stories and poems, and is also the author of Autumn Leaves, a novel, and Lazy Afternoon, a collection of short stories and poetry. She believes in utilizing the power of brevity in her work, and enjoys writing about the human condition. To read Dawn’s essays and short stories published here at The Writing Forum please click on either link below: Essays Short Stories To visit Dawn’s pages at Authors Den please click here. To visit her pages at MySpace please click here. PUBLICATIONS: Dawn has two publictions to her credit. For information please click here. Dawn’s Email: dla8155@yahoo.com   POETRY BY DAWN ANDERSON Click on the button in front of any title below to be linked directly to that poem’s location on the page:   Clouds   The Calm After the Storm   Dawn   When or Why   A Restless Winter   An Open Door   A Woman’s Thoughts   Self-Healer   Fire   A Sunday in October   Struggling to Accept   Endings and New Beginnings   Blame it on the Rain   Last Day   harbinger   Thoughts All My Own   The Meaning of Life   A Definite Possibility   Safekeeping   Bittersweet Gift   While Passing Through   Convergence   A Favorable Reception   Morning Meditation   Mother and Daughter   A Summer Morning   Flow of Thought   Vanishing View   Morning Whispers   Here and Now   The Flow of Time   The Power That Is   Meteor Shower   This Too Shall Pass   Galileo and the Modern Day Woman   Gentle Collision - Valentine’s Day poem   A Baptism of Sorts   Season of Grace   Progression   Tempting Fate   A Soul's Perspective   The Road to There   Growing Season   Undone   Rest Certain   Early Morning Swin   Enchanted Summer   Whispers of the Heart   Handle With Care   Thoughts at 35,000 Feet   To Live Life   Notions of Drowning   Momentarily Suspended   For What Is   To Ride a Wave   Simply   Moments of Awareness   Bulletproof Vest   Clouds Thoughts jumbled and confused. So many things to say, but the ability escapes me. So I sit in the quiet of this holy place, feeling small and somewhat lost, praying for a miracle Days, weeks, months pass quickly whenever we do not want them to... yet, when waiting for what we perceive as a better time and place, they drag. Is this a punishment for things I did or did not do? The omnipotent 'they' tell me You do not work that way. Yet, perhaps I've made my bed and need to lie in it awhile... there are lessons to be learned. So it will go how it must go, and I need do more than bide my time, for if life is indeed a gift, I need to cherish that which is mine.   The Calm After the Storm In the heavy rain, I stand beneath an oversized umbrella, listening as sparrows sing an early morning chorus... giving their thanks, even on a morning as wet as this. I side step puddles, shivering in the damp April air, rain miraculously coming to a halt. A strong wind rolls back the dark sky, revealing a blanket of pale blue... and I smile, thinking this is truly the calm after the storm.   Dawn Struggling to control what is beyond control Longing for that which needs time and patience Surrender...enjoy what unfolds between now and future goals... realize that control only lies in our thoughts and our actions, for this is the way to true inner peace.   When or Why In the cold of this March evening my thoughts drift to a place I call home. A tear slides down my cheek, quickly followed by another. The sting of the winter wind, only makes the pain that much more real. You sigh and say things happen for a reason, words I long to believe are true, for if not, what purpose would life hold and would it mean concerning the future? So I search to know the answers to try to make sense of this senseless confusion...eyes now wide open, not wanting to blink, for fear of missing lifes' hidden clues.   A Restless Winter Impatient as the sparrow that sings outside my window, I wait, restless, feeling as though life is put on hold. Not knowing what the future brings ignites internal struggle... there is no perception of inner peace or quiet. Difficult not knowing the hows and the whys, I cling to faith, believing all things work together for my good.   An Open Door Delight in the goodness that surrounds you, for in doing so, more will follow.... words that flowed through my mind as I awoke this snowy winter morning. I began to think about the many times I have taken things for granted.. the  times I have failed to express appreciation...when I dwelled on the negative rather than focused on the positive. Each and everyday is a new beginning... a fresh start where beauty awaits and lies within our reach ...we need only take notice, for in doing so, we open the door of opportunity.   A Woman’s Thoughts Who am I? wife – mother – teacher – but do these three words truly identify me? I am a woman – a woman who needs time and space – to enjoy a good book, a hot cup of tea, or a trip alone to the mall. and although it feels good to take care of others, it feels good to take care of me – for if I don’t, who will?   Self-Healer I turn to you, looking for words of comfort, hoping for a response, realizing, once more, I am my best healer. As I try to analyze what caused you to become so cold, I drift off to sleep beneath the warmth of the blanket and the peace of a full moon, creating dreams that exist only in the gift of semi-consciousness.   Fire ~Not too far from my house is a center for the elderly. Almost daily, people would gather to talk, sing, dance and play cards. This center has been a part of the town's history for over fifty years. Last Friday, fire fighters made a gallant effort to save the building from an electrical fire. Unfortunately, the fire took control. Thank God no one was injured.  i listen to the sound of frantic voices stand stunned as black haze pours from glassless windows watch, while ginger rage lights the evening sky  blink back tears as past and future crumble in wrack and ruin.   A Sunday in October In the quiet of the afternoon, I gaze out at the ripples on the water –  smile as a duck noisily makes its way across the lake. There is that unmistakeable smell in the air – the one that tells you autumn has arrived. I tilt my head up to the sun, feeling its warmth upon my face. Closing my eyes, I try to drink in the moment, basking in what will soon be a memory.   Struggling to Accept I watch as a pre-autumn rain pounds the living room window. The sky dark, lonely – no trace of a moon. In the semi-quiet, I hear my soul cry out – pause to listen – uncertain of what is being said – perhaps not wanting to know. What is it about this death of a season that causes me such unease? Is it the lack of light and warmth? The shortened day? The anger at wishing life away until the summer returns? And so, I struggle with acceptance – knowing there is nothing I am able to change – nothing but attitude.   Endings and New Beginnings Early September, and there is already a crispness to the air. The sun has taken on that far away look, casting distant, golden shadows. I am hit by a piece of memory – a mystifying fragment – my mother standing on the back porch gazing off at naked oaks. “The fall reminds me of death,” she spoke softly – more to herself than anyone else. Now, some forty odd years later, I understand – naked oaks – branches outstretched – like arms waiting to be filled. Yet, this is the season to plant, so that we may reap what the spring has to offer – for with the end of summer comes a rebirth – a page is turned – a new beginning   Blame it on the Rain I blame it on the rain - this dismal sinking feeling - precursor to that which lies ahead. dark, sunless days, my soul struggling to find warmth - my mind forever on the spring - waiting to witness its rebirth. dreams of white washed houses contained by wooden picket fences - the smell of fresh cut grass with daisies all in bloom - the promise of summer yet to come. Yes, I blame it on the rain.   Last Day Thoughts after fourteen days of peace, beauty, and the company of special friends. As I lay back in the quiet of the early morning, I look up into the vast haze, amazed at how the usual blue sky has changed, on this, my last day, before heading back home. Coincides with my gray mood, I whisper, breaking what feels like sacred silence. Yet, almost as if on cue, the sun stretches its long fingers through a break of thick cloud, reminding me of the beauty that lies ahead.   harbinger six days of rain – heavy, as the unconfessed sins that plague one’s soul. relief predicted for tomorrow – a light to lift this dark veil of fog – for without sanguinity, where would we be?   Thoughts All My Own tall green grass gently sways in a warm june breeze as i listen to a peaceful, holy silence. a single airy thought remains a constant true companion, as my heart soars to a place that i call home.   The Meaning of Life Too often in the past I accepted the word “coincidence...” Thankfully, there have been teachers along the way… people, books, life lessons… those that taught faith, peace, strength and courage, bringing with them true knowledge. I now believe there are few coincidences in life… few accidents, twists of fate, and life certainly has little to do with luck or happenstance… instead, I believe in personal messages, for I need only open my eyes to see and to listen as well as hear.   A Definite Possibility ~Inspired by the classic film...”The Rainmaker”, starring  Katharine Hepburn and Burt Lancaster~ He has this magical way of looking at her… touching her, without ever lifting his hand, and the thought of him causes her face to light up with “un”laughed laughter. She basks in a pool of sunlight - a now snug and familiar place, the sky stretching above like a newly laundered sheet. Strange, how life can seem enchanted at times…and the word “complete” almost feels like a definite possibility!   Safekeeping With infant child at her breast she softly whispers a lullaby - the room clothed in darkness, save for a single bar of moonlight that spills through the open window.. The hope of the future is momentarily held within protective arms – in this gift of a child - who has declared his love unconditionally.   Bittersweet Gift autumn bleeds the last of color upon a carpet green as the sun imparts its final rays of warmth.. bittersweet this closing gift for soon the cold descends, my spirit dormant in the icy winter chill. yet, reminders of golden springs replay in memories soft, nature’s comfort to feed my wistful soul.   While Passing Through There are times when my life is lived almost as though it were an involuntary function – more or less like breathing. It becomes too familiar – a vague sameness sets in rendering one day indistinguishable from the next – happening rather than unfolding. Occasionally, I think about death – not in a sad, empty sort of way – but in a way where I am able to smile, at least inwardly, knowing I lived my life without regret. My “job” then, should be to make life sparkle – to avoid the would have/could have disappointments that so often accumulate over time… to live, because I am alive!   Convergence The painting she stands in front of mimics her thoughts well… abstract, removed, conceptual. She tries to grasp them, these, her intangible views… about life, death, and perhaps even herself, yet they often drift just beyond reach to a dimension she cannot fully comprehend, although she is quite certain of its existence.   A Favorable Reception Early morning- the scent of autumn perfumes the air. Although the sun is shining brightly, my nose is cold and my fingertips numb. There is a steady chatter from a flock of sparrows occupying an old nearby oak and it causes me to smile, for it is almost as though the sparrows believe their continuous prattle will keep winter at bay. Wrapping my sweater around me a bit tighter, I head for home wanting out of the cold and a hot cup of tea, reminding myself that acceptance is how a grand part of the battle is won.   Morning Meditation there is a place in my thoughts where clouds give way to sun, and contentedly i linger there awhile. yet, now and then i f  r   e    e    f      a      l        l and hit the ground with an unexpected thud, learning i need do nothing other, than just be.   Mother and Daughter Your eyes tell a secret that your lips have yet to speak, and I wish I could rummage through your thoughts, perhaps even linger there awhile. I gaze into a steaming mug of coffee, willing the sun to come up, silently vowing to learn the virtue of patience. “Good things come to those that wait,” I hear my grandmother’s voice utter from the distant past. I laugh, almost out loud… such words of wisdom coming from a woman who confessed to zero tolerance. I pause inwardly to wash away any trace of pleading from my eyes, consciously sitting more erect. I can do this, I convince myself, smiling. You give me a quizzical look and a grin. “What is it?” you ask. “Nothing,” I respond. And together we pass the time watching the sunrise.   A Summer Morning Countless tiny butterflies flit from wild flower to wild flower. She bends to capture one, a brilliant blue in color, and smiles as she feels its graceful wings flutter against her skin. Opening her hands to set it free, it lingers awhile, slowly traveling across her wrist and forearm, before flying away and settling on a daisy close to her feet. Once again she stoops to embrace it, and it is almost as though it waits for her touch. Yet, several seconds later, a worrisome look crosses her face…she feels no movement and fears that perhaps she has damaged its wings. After unlocking her hands, she beams, almost as luminous as the mid-day sun, for the vibrant blue butterfly takes flight and then comes to rest on her big sister’s shoulder. And now, it is my turn to smile as I realize that the sparkle of life never dies. It lives on...in lazy summer mornings, in my children’s laughter and in the flutter of tiny butterfly wings.   Flow of Thought Unsolicited thoughts swim through my mind at an incredible speed, overstaying their welcome like ill mannered guests. Yet, I am reminded of crystal moments… clutter cleared…cobwebs dusted…and I smile at my meticulous housekeeping... until they intrude once more, prompting me to keep my cockiness at a minimum…a reminder well heeded.   Vanishing View There is a feeling that sometimes comes along .the one that tells you all is right with the world and you and everything in it are exactly where you are meant to be. And on those occasions, I desperately try to bottle it… but before I secure the lid, the feeling begins to evaporate, much like vapor. As mysteriously as it vanishes, I know that it will return…the problem is, not knowing when… for as hard as I search for the answers, they, beyond all doubt, reside within.   Morning Whispers Upon opening her eyes, it was there… cotton white and pastel pink, swimming in a background of ocean blue. She wondered how many mornings this same sky had waited to greet her…or perhaps there was a unique sky that commenced with each dawn... how would she know, unless she took notice? Gazing out at the clouds, she smiled, recalling a game she and her sister had played as children, and as she drew in a deep breath, her eyes slowly traced the wings of a butterfly. “The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you, don’t go back to sleep.”…words she promised to engrave in her memory.   Here and Now Time…position…sentiment… all shift in accordance to plan in this space that I occupy… where I learn and grow... a place created exclusively for me. It is only when I listen to the stillness within, that I am able to forge ahead, at a pace intended solely for me…my gift from a master creator.   The Flow of Time They walked side by side in the distance, sometimes holding hands. She watched as they shared a secret thought and smiled as she listened to their laughter. Yet, a touch of sadness crossed her face as she marveled at how quickly time moves forward – for her daughters, who were once her little girls, had transformed into beautiful young women.   The Power That Is Expectant and impatient, like the riot of fall color that bursts forth from the trees. Yet, wait…be still... there is no sense bargaining with the Powers that Be…luckily, they aren’t listening. Past affliction – an excellent teacher – stay steadfast and time will come, when dreams are not mere thoughts, but the substance that life is made from.   Meteor Shower She watched, paralyzed and numb as a thousand stars hit the ground with a sound only she could hear. The world became dark – for how long, she cannot remember. Yet, a spark remained, which grew into a glimmer of hope, that lit up the night sky. This – a new beginning, with eyes to the future, where dreams forever press forward.   This Too Shall Pass I listen as you speak in civil tones, carefully rewriting history – so much easier than admitting what was true – but then, you always had a flare for the dramatics. I nod – just to be polite – you smile and gently pat my hand, readying to leave. Hours later, you catch me unaware as you gracefully invade my thoughts – God knows I’ve fought to keep them under lock and key – and like an ill mannered guest, you overstay your welcome – yet, I know this too shall pass.   Galileo and the Modern Day Woman It was one of those moments when she realized nothing in life is ordinary, in the truest sense of the word. At about the same time, she discovered it wasn’t the destination that caused her happiness, but the journey itself. And although she proclaimed herself a “summer person,” she learned to appreciate winter and all it revealed. She had read once, Galileo, genius that he was, believed comets were optical illusions, a thought that offered her comfort. For if Galileo, “The Father of Modern Science,” with all his wisdom and intelligence could make such a mistake, why should she, a mere modern woman, be ashamed to have made a few of her own?!   Gentle Collision His thoughts quietly drift to a secret place that dwells within his heart - a place where thoughts seamlessly yet gently collide with hers   A Baptism of Sorts The morning is cloudy and lack luster, yet the water carries a light of its own that draws me to ocean’s edge. Gently, the air whispers with each incoming wave that I am alive - and I am thankful for the reminder.   Season of Grace Caught in a peaceful breeze, gliding and twirling until softly landing on my lap. A jewel colored gem from a trusty old Oak, on a hazy October morning. In early spring, you were but a budding leaf on a branch, giving hope for a promising new season - by summer, a lush green - fully blossomed, offering shade. Then, your most splendid - your most impressive, in autumn, only once you had reached maturation. As I think about life, it seems as though something important has been terribly misplaced and forgotten. There is often such value and emphasis placed upon youth and its beauty. Yet true beauty can be found with age...through that which has been lived and experienced... through what has been earned...through what has been offered... a gift only obtained through the color of life’s seasons and the beauty of aging with grace.   Progression thoughts - clean and soft - these, my cotton lined dreams, gentle whispers of days to unfold. passing slowly, at times quickly, each a personal page from a book whose ending has yet to be written a key is held in trembling hands, although occasionally the same hands are secure and steadfast. still, I grow as I learn from mistakes past and present, smiling at the beauty of life’s contradictions.   Tempting Fate Broken and worn like the rusted hinges to a gate of an old back fence - tired, thrown to and fro - once open, now permanently closed, in dire need of repair. She guards her heart - admittedly, overly cautious, sometimes believing she has used up her chances, often wondering if love is worth the gamble, the pain or the effort. Yet, somehow, a glimmer of hope still remains, and occasionally she smiles in spite of herself, wondering if she should one day tempt fate - for she can almost swear she heard the God(s) whisper, “All in due time.”   A Soul’s Perspective Stepping out onto the balcony, I notice a sky uncharacteristically blue - a strange occurrence in a large overcrowded city. I push open the windows and breathe deeply, closing my eyes for a moment or two, imagining life from a different perspective, using the eyes of my soul. A peaceful contentment arrives this cool autumn morning, realizing I am where I am meant to be at this particular place in time, continuing to travel on the road to there.   The Road to There She imagines life as a bridge - an expansive space linking the past to the present - a bridge of hope and desire, too often destroyed in becoming and although a piece of the puzzle may become lost, many more are found on the journey - slowly shaping the now, into its future.   Growing Season rising - like an ascending bubble in an attempt to escape the inevitable. expectant - impatient - all the while seeking tranquility from without and within. coping - at times, near crumbling - a continual battle of conflicting emotions yet, hope remains as does an undeniable strength - these, her constant companions.   Undone i pretended not to hear it. walked away as though it had never been said, but how do i lie to myself? YOU - i - us unraveling, little by little, like some snagged piece of yarn from an old tossed aside quilt, its seams tattered and torn. words...such strange things... so easily erased on paper. yet spoken? explode like a bullet from the barrel of a gun.   Rest Certain I watch from my bedroom window as the two of them sit side by side. Briefly, they gaze into each others eyes and then kiss. When finished, she gently rests her head against his. The pair continue in this manner for the next several minutes, before finally discovering me. I shrink back from the window, feeling like an intruder, yet continue to watch as they engage in one last kiss before spreading their wings in flight. I smile at the beauty of what I have witnessed, thankful for the splendor that surrounds me. For it is in observing simple, everyday things that I rest certain certain in a Power far greater than I.   Early Morning Swim Although the air was cool, the water felt warm as it gently caressed her body. She moved with long fluid strokes and as she turned onto her back, she noticed the moon hung full in the early morning sky. She drifted for several minutes, allowing the wrinkles to smooth from her mind, listening as the palms fluttered in the breeze like the wings of a hundred butterflies. Dark skies gave way to blue a promising start. She closed her eyes briefly before resuming her laps - smiling at a memory captured - tucked away for a cloudy day.   Enchanted Summer He touched her in a way that filled her, making her feel as though she would explode into a million pieces of paper confetti. Then he kissed her - ever so gently - causing her to release a sigh as soft as a feather. And as he turned to leave and descended the stairs, she floated into the night on an infinite sky, sprinkled with tiny bubbles.   Whispers of the Heart He watched from a distance as she stood at water’s edge gathering stones. One by one, she skipped them across the stream, and when she grew tired, she sat on the pier, dangling her feet in the water. He followed her gaze to a family of sparrows darting from oak to oak, and he smiled as the tree tops swayed, imagining them waving their welcome. Moments later, as she turned to face him, the breeze gently lifted her hair, and in that instant, he believed he had never seen anything so beautiful. Although he knew he could never possess her, her eyes whispered that she was his, for it was one of those rare moments when the heart understands words that need not be spoken.   Handle With Care trapped in a labyrinth of thought, she once worried about the finality of making decisions, for often her choices were born of the heart, invariably proving her wrong. and although she proceeds with caution in a world that is sometimes unsympathetic and cold, she moves forward, for the warmth of His love offers her unwavering protection.   Thoughts at 35,000 Feet Low-lying clouds hang in azure blue skies to buffer her tumbling thoughts, while she dreams of a haven in a troublesome world - a sanctuary - a place to call home.   To Live Life It was somewhere among the solitude of a lazy summer afternoon that she realized how often she had settled. And it was somewhere amid the silence of a sultry August evening that thoughts of life’s brevity swept over her. With this came the realization that more than half her life had been spent as though it were a perpetual clock with never ending seconds ticking forward. And so it was, that quiet yet eventful summer, she dared to live life - with all its hopes and dreams - vowing never more to simply settle.   Notions of Drowning She lay beneath the blanket, fully awake - another sleepless night and she mindlessly counted the drips of water as they gently splashed into the bathroom sink. 1, 2, 3, (the number of times she has given birth.) 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, (the number of years she has been remarried.) 10, 11,12, (the number of years since her divorce.) and on she went until she arrived at 49 - (her age, as of her last birthday.) She closed her eyes and envisioned her days as the seemingly endless drips of water - passing one by one - slowly at first, then quickly until one seemed to flow into the other - “the sea of life,” she mused - until eventually, the “tap” would run dry - a thought that more often than not, frightened her. She lost count somewhere before 250, then tossed and turned in her sleep as notions of drowning invaded her dreams, while she fitfully floundered to keep her head above water.   Momentarily Suspended They hung there momentarily as though suspended in midair - then stabbed like a dagger to the heart - words occasionally thought, but never spoken before today. They were followed by silent tears and an unaccepted apology - until much later, when all was eventually forgiven - but sadly not forgotten.   For What Is He clings like a leaf to a branch in the middle of winter. Feels like a stranger, lost among strangers. Views life as if trapped at the bottom of a murky pond - all the while wondering why he cannot be appreciated for what he is - rather than criticized for all that he isn’t.   To Ride a Wave Although it seemed as though life had played a cruel and bitter trick, he now moves forward with grace and ease, smiling as he remembers the old adage, “Good things come to those that wait,” for in accepting this, he has come to know his future.   Simply She had come to rely on their daily conversation... talk of everyday things along with hopes for the future. She would often find herself smiling for no reason, other than the thought of him, although she sometimes wondered about the “hows” and the “whys...‘? until one day, she accepted it, simply as... “what is.”   Moments of Awareness I tried to pretend I didn’t hear it - that decisive tone in your voice - the one that always made things seem so final. As you turned to leave, I called your name - but you never bothered to look back. Alone now, in the silence of this room, I remember dreams from a lifetime ago - walking alongside you up empty staircases - f  a   l    l    i    n      g t  u   m    b    l    i      n      g then calling your name - frightened, hoping you’d wait - but you always pressed forward. It’s only now, after all these years, that I am able to understand. And with each tick of the clock, I feel you slipping away, yet in some strange way, I feel stronger - perhaps even hopeful, for although something is lost, something is also gained in these few moments - these moments of awareness.   Bulletproof Vest This was written for a student... She watched him from a corner of the room - head down, pen in hand, eyes trying to remain focused on the paper in front of him - struggling - forever struggling. At sixteen, he had seen his share of trouble - drugs, family difficulties, problems with the police - but from their private conversations, she understood his rebellious spirit - he sought permanence - permanence in a world where nothing endures except change. For a brief moment, he looked up and their eyes met. He gave her that cocky grin - the one that used to make her want to smack the hell out of him... but she smiled in return, for she was wiser now. Because when you live in a world where change has been the only constant in life, you more often than not cling to your armor - cocky grin no exception.