Author: inkinherveins

• Stretch Your Writing Muscles

  Do you ever find yourself struggling to get words down on the page? I know I do, and frequently feel as if the ideas I have are flitting beyond my reach, just like when a word or a fact is on the tip of my tongue but I can’t quite form the sounds.  When I…

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• Poetry and Process

  National Poetry Month just ended, and I completed a successful 30/30: thirty poems in thirty days. This is the first time I’ve managed 30 poems in a couple of years, so I’m happy that I have some new lines to work with. Most of the thirty are not that good, since I don’t revise or…

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• 30/30

  Each April is National Poetry Month. There are many ways to celebrate: reading poems, writing poems, sharing poems, going to live poetry events, participating in open mic nights. A few years ago, my friend Cheryl asked me to do 30/30: thirty poems in thirty days. That was in 2015, and each year since then, I’ve…

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• Playful Poetry

  Last weekend, I offered a writing workshop titled Playful Writing, and it was hosted at the local yoga studio. I had nine students enrolled, and seven attended. I was pleased, and surprised, by the turnout because part of me didn’t expect more than a couple friends to enroll out of support. I’ve always favored the…

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• Moon Poem

  Band of black sky stretchedbetween mountain ridgeand gray-black clouds illuminated by the glow of the full moon. Gold-tinted pearl, yellow opal,color shifting moonstone brightening the dark skylightening the ragged edges of gray cloud Deceptively appearingclose enough to touchbut keeping her distance, she is radiant. Casting shadows, softening the sharp edges of daylighther light shows your smile as the click…

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• New Patterns

  Five years ago today, March 22 2017, I defended my dissertation and was just a couple more steps away from becoming Jean Alger, PhD.  It seems somewhat fitting to connect my reflections on that day with my reflections on my decision to exit higher education.  The quality of my work was lacking, and I knew…

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• New Places Always Take Me Home

  

  Gray sky, evergreen trees, and salty-seaweed scent. In the air, moisture that’s too heavy to be mist, too light to be rain. At times it’s difficult to tell whether it comes from the sky, the ground, or is simply the residue of some past time trying to hold its shape. My clearest memory of childhood…

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