"October and Feeling Homeless
-- Yet Again."

This week I was told I was
not good enough. That
my writing was imitation, that
I failed to stick the landing.

I think:
in two years
I moved ten times.

In six years
I wrote one million words.

And I wonder where is
the harvest. That plumage
of golden seal and the
wreckage of poison
ivy, ruddy. Beyond:
white sand.

Seek ye the Lord while He may be found
Call upon Him while He is near
Let the wicked forsake his way
The unrighteous man his thoughts
And let him return to the Lord
He will have mercy upon him
He will abundantly pardon

For my thoughts are not your thoughts
My ways are not your ways
As the heavens are higher than earth
My ways are higher than your ways
And My thoughts are higher than thine saith the Lord
My ways are higher than thine

We lived in California until that summer, from down south. We didn’t want to move. Least ways, Mammie and Mama and Papa were reluctant. We kids were as excited as you would be if you heard the news you were going to ‘paradise’, where the rain fell, where there was no drought, and where we would have a place of our own—with air conditioning for summer, and heaters for the winter.

Johann Sebastian Bach and Claud Debussy were two of the most influential musicians in the world. They published songs they wrote, played instruments, and were brilliant when it came to music. Yet both their lives and their styles differ vastly, from the wild life of one to the disciplined way of the other; from one’s greed and self-interest to the other’s humility and hope in God. How did both come to play such a big part in the development of music in such different ways?

I'd like to thank James for making me a Monthly Writer last night!
And let's not forget to thank Apricot Pie, too. Thank you all for giving me an outlet to help me practice writing. I came to AP really nervous about my writing, but I knew that I loved it and that this would help me grow in this area. So thank you for opening up to me and giving me the opportunity to write with you guys!
Thank you, James, and thank you, AP community!

God Bless
Madalyn Clare

Space Between Solids

1. Burgeoning

It comes out of her like some
face from the woodwork
Curved and
Indelicate

These are figures in bas relief
undecided and non-dimensional
Rich and
Irrelevant.

She is among them, another
landmass of raised ridges
Bland but
Intelligent.

2. Stymied

Rain never falls upon this land.
The heat is strong, the shrubs are dry,
And dust flies loosely all around,
Under a shimmering, glaring sky.

My feet are scorched by frying sand;
My head is burned by angry rays;
I wend upon this flaming ground,
And watch the hours turn into days.

At night it cools, yet no relief
Will comfort in my turning sleep;
The air oppressively berates;
My rest is neither sound nor deep.

1. summer

I didn’t expect my first
slice of independence to mean
a futon bed & eating peanut butter and jelly
for
every
meal

who didn’t teach me to make chicken?

I didn’t expect to become
a grandma overnight
everyone is ready to party and
my bedtime is 11pm

but
I like it
my cozy little
3-windowed bedroom
I have adjusted to
my rock hard futon
and I may still
have not unpacked
but I am good
where I am

2. committed

When I think of how often I said she was a nuisance, how I complained about giving her walks, how many times I wished we’d never gotten a dog, I cry. She was so good. She was so sweet and never bad. Her name was Pepper—Peppercheanie actually, but for short, we called her Pepper. She was speckled with brown on top of a white background of fur. Her whole head was plain brown, and smooth. Her ears were the softest and silkiest ears I have ever felt. And her eyes. They looked up at you in their sad way, sweet and sad and almost sorry. We loved her—I still do.

Like a bolt of lightning in the darkest of night
Let Your truth be the awakening that gives us sight
Let mercy show in glorious light
A prism of purity coupled with might
Let Your name be the sound that puts me in awe
Let me rest in You instead of visions I saw
Give me love in place of impulse to fight and claw
Let my life be Your image; pure and raw
Please help my tears to all be wiped away
Give me the grace to stand; not bend and sway
Grant peace when in troublesome fear I lay
Let me be content with doing it Your way