enjoy the journey

Reading on Sunday

2011-10-04T17:32:00.000-07:00

Nervous? more like jumbled, rattled, hyperventilating, dry mouth, trembling hands... But, the applause after reading my first poem, Interview with Coyote, AND seeing my friend, Karina's reassuring face in the audience, smoothed out the rough edges, and the rest came naturally. My display of art, broadsides, and my roadkill parts and pieces added to the full effect of my reading. You have to appreciate the organic. one of a kind, business card holder. The afternoon was a success. I think I could even do it again!

I am Deborah Ramos and I write about roadkill....

2011-09-30T10:38:00.000-07:00

When I drove past the lifeless coyote on the side of the road, his spirit went through me, and I wept. I needed to know that Coyote met his demise with courage and honor, so I had this conversation in my car, out loud. This will be one of the selections I'm reading on Sunday.

Interview with Coyote

Abandoned, broken, leaning against a roadside cross.

A new day for Coyote, just another day for me.

Coyote, tell me, did you see it comin'?

Nobody ever sees it comin', my sister.

too busy watchin' out for the arched neck of my enemy,

too distracted listenin' for the howls of territorial war.

Was there no escape for you, Old Man?

I did not want the escape, pale sister,

the cracks, the curves, all painted in the blood

of every pack brother that's stood at this cross in the road,
the deafening upheaval came,

the earth split wide enough to swallow all my relatives,
and I surrendered.

Were you afraid, Barking Jackal?

Fur bristled up my back,

my nails chiseled deep

in the hardened-soot-covered field,

my eyes narrowed to slits,

my lungs inhaled the dusty night,

is that being afraid?

So, this was a humbling experience for you, Brave Brother?

I trembled in awe of its cunning power,

but I was not humbled, sad sister,

to be plucked from the pack,

to thrash from the relentless squeezing of the skins. .

to drip warm and weak is an honor.

Any words of wisdom for your cousins, Phantom Wolf?

Only this, weeping sister,

cease to be an obstacle in Its path,

the invasion cannot be stopped.

Drop your pelts and dance through the Wall of Fire.

Create the world and hang the stars

before your nose turns black as raven.

Abandoned, broken,

I leaned a plastic tulip against the roadside cross.

Poetry reading in the park....

2011-08-29T18:13:00.000-07:00

I did it, my friends. I am getting into the poetry reading zone. I even look up from time to time, but I really don't see anyone. Does being nervous affect one's eyesight? I read two of my pieces, one sensual camping in the meadow piece, and one rascally hitting rock bottom with my friends piece. I will be posting both on my Deborah's Poetry page.

night-bed

come close,

let me splatter you

with my primal perfume

bodies fuse together,

the taste soaks into

your dripping chocolate skin.

our echoes arouse

the sleeping meadow,

ears perk from their night beds.

sticky embraces smoulder into dreaming.

Sage reads Birds at the annual poetry event in Balboa Park

2011-08-28T20:36:00.000-07:00

She wowed the listening crowd.

Birds

birds fly through big leafy trees

I've never heard a bird sing,

but I know they sing

because birds like music.

at the poetry bench

2011-08-21T21:48:00.000-07:00

My Granddaughter, Sage, slipping her newest poem, Birds, into the poetry drop box at the Poetry Bench in Balboa Park. Come join the writing community on Sunday, August 28, at the Poetry Bench, corner of 6th and Quince, 3pm to 5 pm. Pack a lunch and bring a blanket for the annual celebration of summer and writing. Bring something to read. Good writing, friendly writers, what could be better?

Poets at the Bench

Sage's Poet Face

Switch on to Summer...

2011-07-14T15:39:00.000-07:00

This summer I am able to attend the Blue Light Press poetry workshop in San Francisco, facilitated by Diane Frank, chief editor of Blue light Press. I'll be spending four days immersed in a poetic retreat and enjoying cultural events, adventures in dining, and a little wine tasting at the Wharf. Johnny and I went the summer of 2009, so I am so happy to be attending this summer. I have a couple of new pieces I will workshop. yes, get the creative juices flowing. Making a checklist. If anyone has any suggestions, please leave a comment or two! I definitely want to go to Berkeley this time and see the Anthropology Museum. There are artifacts from Ishi's family, the last man from the Yahi tribe. I think he is my favorite historical figure. Click on the link.

Bear Poo in Muir Woods, berries for added texture

Ocean Beach, across from our hotel. Brrrr...

Summer is here....

2011-07-10T18:45:00.000-07:00

My granddaughter, Sage, in her Three Piggie Opera premiere, singing Bricks I sell. Or, as she says it, Brickth I Thell. Enjoy.

2011-06-28T18:48:00.000-07:00

My granddaughter, Sage feeling the magic at the Fairy Festival, June 2011.

We went to Summer's Past Farm, about 30 miles east of San Diego,

to immerse in the world of fairies, fairy gardens, music, and fields of lavender.

Beautiful Fairy

Happy Summer Solstice!

2011-06-21T17:40:00.000-07:00

Today is the longest day of the year and the beginning of summer. The journey into the harvest season has begun. The colors are yellow, green and blue. With the sun at its highest, this is a time that energy reaches its peak, flooding the surface of the planet. With all the light, this is a good time to reflect and make realization. What did you plant in the year that has now matured during this season? Prosperous thoughts? Charitable thoughts? Or do you have lots of weeds in your consciousness?

And what can you do to celebrate this day? Since water is essential for life to continue on Mother Earth, this is a good time to honor the water beings and ask for enough water to care for our gardens. Make a pledge to Mother Earth of something that you can do to improve the environment. You can have a special gift exchange with friends or your family in your garden, to encourage growth and prosperity, and to acknowledge the gifts of the past season.

enjoy this day

So, I was thinking...

2011-06-01T14:18:00.000-07:00

about my favorite poets and writers. Pablo Neruda, Sherman Alexie, and Maggie Estep to name a few. Great writers can express the daily chore of living with new eyes, they take me to places that I have never been.

Pablo Neruda can make an onion sound erotic, delicious, embracing the simplicities of a peasant. Sherman Alexie gives the world insight to life on the rez in raw, uncensored terms. Maggie Epston transforms every woman into a sex goddess.

Good writing makes me want more.

Who's writing makes you want more?

New Year, New Day

2011-01-31T14:30:00.000-08:00

I am very proud of myself. I am taking the winter on-line poetry workshop offered by Blue Light Press, with a wonderful mix of poets. I invite you to visit the website.

Been slogging through a mushy writers block, or is it life taking charge of me instead me taking charge of life. As soon as I signed up, words started banging around in my head. Is it a commitment that cannot be ignored? A monetary investment that cannot be wasted? A private place to be heard without judgement?

What helps when your slogging through a mushy block of creativity?

2010-10-26T10:00:00.000-07:00

Time to put words on the page. Fill up the space with twisted vines of thought. Reach out to the Universe and pluck red shifting galaxies. Release gases into withered lungs and plant trees on mars.

Are poets visionaries? or are the visions poetry? The poet sits on a tiny portion of the painting, gazing at the untouched palette.

Paint, write, gaze.