A Poem for those Yearning for Spring…

The following poem is titled March Whispers Green. I wrote it in 2015 and t’s one of my favorite poems that I’ve penned…it was an enjoyable write, and a bit playful. This morning it came to my mind, and as I re-read it, I decided to revise a few stanzas. I really love coming back to old work and revising it through new eyes- or the eyes of one who has lived a few more years. I’ve read that Walt Whitman continued to revise the poems he published in Leaves of Grass for the rest of his life!

Either way, I hope you enjoy this lighthearted piece of poetry. The original is HERE.

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My Top Ten Best Rules for Journaling

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

If you are someone who writes in a journal with any regularity, you may have heard the comment about journaling stating, “There are no rules for journaling.” And on the surface level it might seem to have some credibility. One could agree. But, I would challenge you to take a closer look at that statement before raising your hand and saying, “AMEN!” Perhaps examining what we actually do in practice, as opposed to what we think we believe might help shed some light on the validity or the inaccuracy of the sweepingly broad, no journaling rules philosophy, or whether we actually do adhere to specific rules for our own journaling. I think we might even have some surprisingy rigid, though perhaps unspoken “rules” that are revealed in our quest for truth.

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Let’s Get (Re)Aquainted

With my my wonderful hairdresser Chelsea who refreshed my
neglected locks this past November –
Chelsea owns Bombshell Beauty in Cranston, RI

I set out to write a bit about myself for those who are new to my public persona here at Enthusiastically, Dawn, but each time I attempt to write, I find myself frozen. There I sit, staring at the screen, eyes glazed, mind blank…a statue. This is a strange experience for me. Since blogging publically in 2011, I’ve had writing ups and downs, but this is alien to me. This blankness that comes when I think of writing to share with those of you who choose to read my words, and share along with me in this space, is like a fog. I can’t see or think clearly. I’m not sure what grief looks like, but I will say that it feels like amnesia. Let me explain…

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A Letter to My Daughter One Year Later

Dear Katherine,

It’s been a year now since you took your life. A year and 7 days to be precise. The truth is nothing is precise in our lives here anymore. Since that time, life goes on, but is a blur of meaningless activity overshadowed by your absence. Time is irrelevant. Day, night, hours- what are they? I struggle to make sense of it all. I struggle to find meaning in anything.

It’s not that I am not doing things. It’s that everything is less since you’ve been gone.

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