Time’s Arrow– National Poetry Month Finale

“Inelegantly, and without my consent, time passed.”  ~ Miranda July

     As National Poetry Month draws to a close, I bring you five poems about Time.

The final one is my creation.

 

passing-the-time

Time is very slow for those who wait;
very fast for those who are scared;
very long for those who lament;
very short for those who celebrate; but for those who love, time is eternal.

~William Shakespeare

 

Tree

The Trees

The trees are coming into leaf

Like something almost being said;

The recent buds relax and spread,

Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again

And we grow old? No, they die too.

Their yearly trick of looking new

Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh

In full grown thickness every May.

Last year is dead, they seem to say,

Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

~Phillip Larkin

 

 

butterfly-close-up-insect-248339

The butterfly counts not months but moments,
and has time enough.

Time is a wealth of change,
but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth.

Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time
like dew on the tip of a leaf.

  ~Rabindranath Tagore

 

tile_flies_photo

Forever

I had not known before
    Forever was so long a word.
The slow stroke of the clock of time
    I had not heard.

‘Tis hard to learn so late;
    It seems no sad heart really learns,
But hopes and trusts and doubts and fears,
    And bleeds and burns.

The night is not all dark,
    Nor is the day all it seems,
But each may bring me this relief—
    My dreams and dreams.

I had not known before
    That Never was so sad a word,
So wrap me in forgetfulness—
     I have not heard.

        ~Paul Laurence Dunbar

today (1)

At The Museum of Time Gift Shop

I wish to buy us

just one more day.

I’ll pay full price,

spare no expense.

I’ll fill our day with

togetherness 

an ocean view

a symphony or two

words that matter

laughter to heal

             hugs to feel,

then wrap the day in sunshine

and a red ribbon of love.

I’ll hold my present

like a precious gem,

through the tumble of time

for however long—

until I find you again.

     ~Evelyn Krieger

Send Your Writing Into The World: Don’t Give Up

blogger

“A short story is a love affair; a novel is a marriage.”

I have a new short story publication to share. “Her Last Dance” appeared in the August issue of Gemini Magazine.

It’s scary sending your work out in the world.  First, there’s the inevitable rejection that’s simply part of the submission process. Happens to all writers, no matter how experienced or well-published. Keep revising and submitting. Get critiques. Don’t give up.

Even when your story, essay, article (or book) finds a home, you may wonder how it will be received.  This can be particularly concerning when publishing personal essays or opinion pieces.

So far, the response to “Her Last Dance” has been positive.  Gemini Editor David Bright said he and the judges were very moved by my story.  One reader commented on its “chilling ending”.  Another told me I had “nailed the teenage voice”.

The narrator’s voice came easily to me. I knew the POV had to be through the girl’s eyes.  I wanted the reader to empathize with the teen’s experience but also know more than she does.  Through the use of subtext, the reader can see what the girl cannot, what is truly going on.

The ending is what gave me trouble.

Once I employed the advice: a good ending should be surprising yet inevitable, I felt satisfied with my choice. (See blog post on story endings).

So here it is!  I’d love to know what you think. (Really.)

 

disco-ball

Her Last Dance

by

Evelyn Krieger

               

Mom is in our hotel bathroom fixing herself up. I smell her apricot perfume from outside the door. I’m supposed to get fixed up, too. No idea why Mom uses that expression, I mean, it’s not like we’re broken or anything. I bend over, let my dark hair fall forward, start brushing to make it fluffy like in those shampoo commercials. I check myself in the mirror, dab on bubblegum lip gloss, and a smudge of cherry blush.

     Then Mom comes out. “Well?” She spins around in her sleek black skirt. “What do you think?”

     I swallow.  Her dark eyes seem bigger, like they’re eager for something. “You’re taller.”

     “Hah! I haven’t worn spiked heels in ages. What about my outfit?”

     “You look pretty, Mom. Really.”  And she does.

     “Thank you, my dear.”  Mom squints into the mirror as she puts on her gold hoop earrings. “You’re never fully dressed with bare ears.”

      “Wish Dad could see you. Want me to grab the camera?”

     “No, don’t bother.” She steps back to admire herself.  “I don’t want him thinking we had too much fun.”                                       

     “How come you don’t get dressed up at home?” I ask.

     She looks at me, her perfectly penciled eyebrows raised. “And just where might I be going? Ballroom dancing?”

     I hate it when she gets snarky. “You could take Dad out. You guys stay home too much. I don’t need a babysitter anymore, for your information.”

      “For your information,” she says, “once upon a time your father and I used to go dancing every Saturday night.”  A shadow of sadness passes over Mom’s face.  “He was pretty damn good.”

     I try to picture my father dancing. Instead, I see him in his wheelchair spinning around the floor. He’s the one who needs fixing up. I don’t like to think about Dad home alone with just boring old Carol to dress him and tie his shoes. Mom says there’s no reason to feel guilty–this is our “well-deserved” vacation. Maybe she’s right. So far we’ve had a decent time visiting Chicago, but I am not sure I like the idea of meeting Malcolm.   

Click here to continue reading “Her Last Dance”.

 

 

 

Raising an Entrepreneur

I’m busy working on my presentation for the State of Maryland International Reading Association Conference. I’ll be speaking with my daughter, Leah Larson Caras, founder and publisher of Yaldah Media, Inc., Wed. March 26th.  Topic: A Parent’s Dream.  I’ll trace my journey from teaching first grade to publishing my first novel while raising an entrepreneur.  Thurs. evening I’ll talk about my book along with a slew of other children’s authors at the Author’s & Desserts event.  Looking forward to meeting inspiring educators and authors. Let me know if you’ll be attending or in the Baltimore area.