Wednesday, May 30, 2012

How I'm Doing This

There are several elements to my writing,
all of which I love.

First, there is my novel,
my magnum opus,

Then there is poetry,
the lyrical magic of words,
my old and new passion.

After these
comes blogging,
sharing life.
with you,
my dear friends,
old and new.

there are more academic
forms of writing
articles, essays, and
more professional pieces.

How to pursue
all of these?

Here is my plan.

Here, daily,
I shall share a poem.

And, weekly,
a picture of my life,
my home,
my heart,
also here.

Also weekly,
I will share a piece
of that week's work

one may overlap into the other.
thoughts shared on
may appear here
or poems written for here,
pop onto

And yes, some of this will be in a form other than free verse, such as just plain prose.
You shall see.  I promise.

- Emma Pearl - 

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

I Decided To Wear A Skirt Today

I wore my olive colored blouse today.
I wore it with my mustard colored skirt.
I clothed my feet in sandals - brown and
black - wrapped my wrists in brassy, shining
bangles.  I shook out my hair, wrapped it up,
a nest of brown and gold behind my ears.
Smooth hoops of burnished brass adorned my ears.
A smile I could not do without today
adorned my face, supported and held up
my burgeoning heart.  Today I will skirt
my pain, step around it, bear a shining
countenance, and strong and starry eyes, and 
a mouth turned up at the corners, joy and
warm laughter from my throat, and at my ears.
I have decided to forget today.
My mouth is warm with words, the sun shining,
and soft round my waist falls my yellow skirt.
I shall spin and swirl, and sew my heart up,
step out my door and carry my feet up
the street, a girl young and beautiful and
fresh, my hands lifting and tossing my skirt
around me, shunning the wind in my ears
having decided to breathe free today,
to dress myself in hope, bright and shining.
Outside my door, the street is hot, shiny
with heat waves, quivering up and down, up
and down, heavy with quiet, near midday,
the hour of sandwiches and soup and 
tea served in glasses that mirror bright eyes,
eyes bent on hiding, attempting to skirt
the truth shaken by sun from the black skirts
of the night, sending blushes round our ears.
We only want to lock our memory up,
forget, for a day, the “things” of life and
greet the world awake, ready for this day.
So I shall wear my bright skirt, and lift up
my face, shining with this, in my heart and 
in my ears. “Nothing shall ruin today.”

- Emma Pearl - 
A Sestina written Spring 2012 at Stephen F. Austin State University

Sunday, May 27, 2012

He Really Is Faithful

It happens.
It really does.
That pain, that old, old struggle,
the weakness and worry
that jars,
and jolts,
and refuses to stay away,
does go away.

It does,
when adulthood has crept
into your soul,
when your pressing forward
and pushing on
has changed you.

You discover,
talking over things,
that old fears,
maybe not present ones
but old ones
are gone,

And you know,
that all fears, all pain
will slide away,
as you keep pushing,
keep forcing,
keep praying
you know, then,
that peace will come

at long last.

Because He really is faithful.

- Emma Pearl -

Poem #2 in my - A Poem A Day -

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Plum Tart

It was not hard.
I piled purple plums
clinging, wet, to each other,
glimmering with a ripe glimmer
and shiny with sugar.
I poured and pressed them,
into pastry rolled
thick and buttery.
I pulled the limpid dough
and over the rich red fruit,
then put it in the oven.
The hour fled by,
warmed by the gradual growing
of the deep scent,
the quivering aroma
of summer,
of childhood,
of goodness wrapped in piecrust,
a medieval sort of luxury,
a messy, gooey,

- Emma Pearl - 

The beginning of my summer endeavor - A Poem A Day

Friday, May 25, 2012

A New Beginning

To all my readers, 
new and old.
This is for you,
and for me

I am beginning again,
writing again,
because writing matters.
Words matter.
Stories and songs 
cling to the red
beating warmth of my heart.
Adulthood climbed up in my lap,
weighting me down,
crowding out my childhood.
I let go
for a while
of the things I loved,
but they still cling.
They pull at my bones,
tugging at the chords that tie my heart
to my soul.

For a little while
I had forgotten those dear old friends,
treasured books and companions
evenings spent in stillness.
But no more.
I am rising from heavy years,
remembering the goodness,
the sun and the earth,
the fearlessness
of childhood.
I shall write again,
every day,
and I shall share it
here with you.

-Emma Pearl-