I hereby raise a battle cry
And declare this year to be bathed in Heaven’s Light.
Through my nerves, I will fight.
Until my Darkness all but dies.
I hereby swear I will fight for me
And not let the intrusive thoughts conquer me.
I declare my worth.
My valve.
I will not let my courage falter.
I will hold my head high.
I declare that all be exposed to Light.
No longer will I hark on my creations
But know that what I create is good
Not a paint stroke is a mistake
Not a story is out of place.
I hereby raise a battle cry
That this year would be one of light.
A Tree in Winter
Like a tree in winter.
Life hesitant to be drawn out.
No foliage. No buds or flowers.
Just a tall stump of branches.
Standing. Waiting.
Birds twitter branch to branch.
Squirrels huddle deep in their nests.
And the tree still stands,
Waiting for a call for life again.
The winds beat.
Blizzards rage.
A branch or two may be taken away.
Yet the tree still stands.
A slumbering giant no one turns an eye to.
No one looks upon it.
Everyone looks past it.
See through the branches to what couldn’t be seen before.
A holy sunrise.
A trickling creek.
A home hidden among the woods.
Eyes look beyond.
And the tree still stands, hoping.
Hoping the holy sunrise would grace it with light.
Hoping the trickling creek would nourish it with water.
Hoping the home would appreciate the shelter it provides.
A tree in winter. Often overlooked.
Is a symbol of enduring waiting.
Waiting for spring and hope to be able to fully bloom again.
Go Boldly
What is one thing you would change about yourself?
To chase a dream
No matter how difficult it seems
That’s what it means to go boldly
To not be held down by anxiety
Or let fear cause you to flee
That’s how you go boldly
Hold your head high
Keep your eyes on the sky
That’s how you walk boldly
Turn your back on doubt
And to others, hold your hand out
Then everyone knows you go boldly
You’ve no regrets after you spoke
And you hold onto hope
That’s a part of going boldly
Remembering the truth
When all the world turns blue
That’s how you go boldly
If I could be anything
I’d be someone who goes boldly
The Golden Apple
Standing at the bottom of a cliff
Staring up at a great tree on top
A golden apple sways high on its branches
Your only hope from starvation
You begin your climb
Find your first foothold
Jagged rocks roughen your bare hands, bare feet
Five feet up, you think this will be easy
A stretch and a grab on a rocky handhold
You pull your weight and cracks break the mold
You reach out in vain. Gravity pulls you down the rocks
Scrapes scar your hands. To the bottom, you drop
You dust yourself off.
You know where you went wrong
You start again.
Believing you’re strong
Farther than before
On the the side of the cliff
You pause for a moment
To tighten your grip
But that gravity, a wicked imp
Smashes your footholds
You feel the rocks go limp
A pit in your stomach
Then you feel yourself slip
Your fingers bleed against the rocks
as you fight for a grip
Tumbling down to where you were before
Your shoulder hits hard right there on the floor
You take a pause as pain draws near
And suddenly your eyes fill with tears
Still at the top, that golden apple sways
Your hunger is enough to take your breath away
Wiping up your scrapes and stretching out your bruises
You get back on to climbing and make no excuses
Higher up the cliff, you see an end in sight
A few more feet and you’ll be on the clifftop
Then on to the tree and it’s great height
Your hope’s so high, your heart might pop
Hands find the edge
Just pull yourself up
But gravity is there
And it’s not going to stop
With a swing like a hammer
It makes the ground crack
Your panic screams out
As it just laughs
The rocks begin to fall
And you go with them
A freefall of horror
Sinks into your system
When you hit the ground
The world goes black
It isn’t ’til hours later
That you finally come back
Beaten and broken
Scratched and scarred
Every inch of skin holds pain
Like a log blackened and charred
You stay on the ground
But your eyes catch a light
That golden apple swaying at its height
Your stomach rumbles
There’s an ache in your heart
But how can you get up
When you’ve fallen so far?
You rise to a sit
and the cliff looks taller
Perhaps you can’t do this
That’s all you can wonder
You don’t have to turn
You know there are eyes on the trees
The forest behind is watching you
Waiting for you to succeed
You shouldn’t show them
That you’re beaten and broken
You shouldn’t show them
You’re what they misplaced their hope in
But you want to admit
That you want to give up
Lay down in the dirt
Not pick yourself up
The golden apple
Sways high on the tree
A tantalizing sight
That makes you hungry
But gravity guards the cliff
Ready to strike you down
And remind you again
That reality is on the ground
A dream you hold so dear
Who knew it was a hard fought battle?
Overcome by all your fears
How can you reach that golden apple?
A Novel Thanksgiving
Have you ever introduced Thanksgiving to your characters? Maybe you have characters that know what it is because it goes along with your setting, but what about other worldly characters? Have you ever tried to explain it? How would you explain it? Would you simply say its a holiday that started because some people got on a boat, crossed an ocean, then shared a meal with people native to the land they arrived on? Or would you forgo the history behind Thanksgiving and just focus on what it really is? A holiday dedicated to celebrating what we’re thankful for. How do we celebrate? By throwing a big feast, of course.
If I explained Thanksgiving to my characters, I would have one in particular that would be all over it. They would be so excited. They’d prepare a great feast that the castle would smell like it was made out of delectable food. Turkey, pig, ribs, sausage, cornucopias full of fruits, stuffed gourds, pumpkin pie, apple pie, whatever kind of pie they could think of to make. Let’s also not forget the tarts and cranberry sauces and other fruity jams. Every table of the main hall would have a feast and all would be welcome.
The majority of my other characters would attend this feast because why would you miss out on so much food? Decorations would be strung up. Probably a lot of feathers and leaves, red and orange ribbons, and candles at every centerpiece. It would be a time of togetherness. My one character in particular would want to do the tradition of saying what you’re thankful for. They wouldn’t let anyone skimp out of it by saying the typical “I’m thankful for food,” or “I’m thankful for the roof over my head.” They’d want to get specific. What are the little things everyone is thankful for?
Those characters able to let down their guard are able to answer honestly. I’m thankful for an arrow that always flies true. Thankful for late nights talking with loved ones. Thankful that throughout all life’s hardships, we’re still here to be together.
I’d ask my main character next and he’d try to blow it off, but eventually, I think he’d say he’s grateful for dreams we don’t realize we want and the loyal friends he has that help him on his great adventures. And, those friends of his? One would be grateful for adventure, for new experiences that help him grow. Another would be grateful for nature. Every sunrise and sunset. The way the leaves dapple in the light and a trickling creek in the hot prairie sun. The last would refuse to answer, but I know she’d be grateful for people who accept her.
There are several characters I have that would attend the festivities. You can’t expect villains to show up to a Thanksgiving feast. However, I would have one that would want to. They’d never admit it. They’d never say it, but deep down, they wish they could be a part of the togetherness. They know they don’t belong and, honestly? They don’t feel they have anything to be thankful for.
Introducing Thanksgiving to your characters is a fun thought. You see who would like it. Who would hate it, and you might learn something new about them. I hope you know what you’re thankful for this Thanksgiving. I dare you to get specific and a good, hard look at all the blessings that you have.
All the More Sweeter
Stand at the top of the rise of a hill. A forest stretches ahead and rises again to greet the horizon. Milky white rivers of fog slip through the trees, so thick in patches you can’t see through it. The fading night brings a chill to your skin that you welcome morning’s light. It offers a gentle, heavenly glow on the horizon, shining like pink diamonds along the tree tops.
The days previous have been filled with gloom. Overcast skies and soaking rain. A drizzling mist that coats the world with shivers. People were hunched over, striving for any warmth while misery crunches their expressions.
You breathe deeply with the new morning light. A welcoming sight that lifts the fog and banishes the mist. A new day. You dare hope it will be better. You dare to let the sun see your smile.
To be thankful, you decide, for the overcast and the gloom, so that the heavenly horizon would be all the more sweeter.
Time
If there’s no time for anything.
How do we get anything done?
Time to dilly dally.
Time to waste.
We claim we’re taking time to recuperate.
When time is out the door
And you’re not motivated anymore
You find yourself wondering
What do you live for?
Family? Friends? A well paying job?
That dream in your pocket
That makes your heart throb?
Do you find something to do
That makes you feel good about you?
A hobby or gift
where you’re identity can shine through?
Take a look at your time.
Is it a waste? A pleasure?
Does it feed light or life?
What does it measure?
Time is ultimately short.
Distractions get in the way
When you take pause to look,
How would you count the day?
Than Knowledge
Lately, I’ve been into a TV show call Reba. It’s about a single mom who works too hard. Who loves her kids and never stops. She’s gone through divorce. She has a pregnant teen. It’s a very real and heartfelt show where the characters love each other enough to get mad and work it out. The other night, I watched an episode where the pregnant teen’s husband was worried that their daughter was behind in intelligence because he’s “not the sharpest tool on the chandelier.” He admitted that it took him until he was five years old to learn to tie his shoes.
It’s revealed that he took so long to learn to tie his shoes because every time he would start, the bunny going down the rabbit hole, suddenly became a rocket ship or his shoes became racecars. His imagination would go wild. He probably went off on a lot of adventures that not a lot of people understood.
The scene reminded me of the quote by Albert Einstein: “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” This was always a quote I held onto, because I, too, am not the sharpest tool on the chandelier. I like to write. I like to paint. I like to imagine and create things. Follow stories and use them to create my own adventures. I was the kid in class doodling and not paying attention because I was more interested in my imagination. I’m a creative, and lately, I’ve been forgetting that.
Everyone is different. All children develop in their own time, their own way. Maybe intellect is your thing and you can memorize the periodic table. Maybe you’re more attuned as a dreamer or maybe your a bit of both. Regardless, the world needs all of us. I believe that opening our minds with imagination can rocket us into great things.
Pumpkin Sunrise
A soft fog layers the streets. The chill of night dampens your jacket and courses a shiver down your spine. As you head to your car, a streak of black catches your eye. You turn your head in time to see the silhouette of a cat dart under a streetlight. You dig your keys out of your pocket and avoid touching your misty door handle to spare yourself from the chill of the metal as much as possible.
The world is silent as you pull out of the parking lot. The hazy glow of your headlights try to pierce through the fog. What once was open with morning light is now smothered by the darkness of early fall.
The world brightens with city lights as you journey your way to work, but the spooky haze has you wondering if monsters will come from the fog. You lock your doors just to be sure.
The highway is when the rain starts. A few drops. You barely notice it at first. Yet, the fog starts to clear. A soft sheet of rain. You know as the kind to ice over in the winter and you’re thankful the season hasn’t shifted that far yet.
A long and winding road, through this hazy mist of rain. You realize after a time that you’re finally able to see the sky. A blanket of dark clouds that stretch to the horizon. Yet, the light of dawn finally peeks through. A line of orange light greets you as you reach the top of a hill. Despite the eerieness of the earlier morning, you find yourself smiling. Orange light capped by dark clouds. You decide the sky itself is getting into the enjoyment of fall. Pumpkin, you decide. A soft pumpkin sunrise.
Burnout
Head in hand
Elbow on knee
All you want is to go back to sleep
Feeling charred
Feeling chipped and cracked
Like the waning moon,
You want to fade to black
A busy day
Then a busier day
And one more (for good measure)
It doesn’t seem to end
Tasks stack up continuously
But the time to do them never changes
Head in hand
Another day starts
The preparation takes too long
Time slips away
Yet you find your cares are already gone
Another busy day
You’re still crisp from the day before
You try to muster a care
But life feels more like a chore
A struggle just to survive
When you wish that you could thrive
Head in hand
Ashen inside
Elbow on knee
All you want is to sleep
nikki diekemper 