Happy Halloween (and a video poem to share)!

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Monday Revisit

Occasionally I like to go back and revisit some of the items I have written or published as a reminder that yes, I really did write that.

This particular one was a poem I wrote several years ago, and it was published with Piker Press.  It’s about the “unseen” people that tend to get forgotten.

Once

Once, there was a girl who lived in my neighborhood

She was a pale and skinny girl, not much to look at

Her mother died when she was an infant, and her father fell in love with booze

She would go to high school in clothes that were well worn at best

She had no friends, and was taunted and abused by the relentless bullies

But — no one stood up for her, no, not even a teacher

No one would lend a listening ear, or a helping hand

No, not one; not even I

What was even sadder was when she died, killed by her own flesh and blood in a drunken rage, not a single soul appeared at her burial

No one was there to remember her

I am left to wonder if she had been given even the slightest of chances, would this have saved her?

I’m not sure, but I do know that I had an opportunity to make a difference once… and failed.

Article © Carrie A. Golden. All rights reserved.
Published on 2008-09-15

– See more at: http://www.pikerpress.com/article.php?aID=3292#sthash.MUWssSOl.dpuf

Looking Back and Ahead (Happy New Year!)

2015 new

 

As another year draws to a close, this is usually when I look back and see what I’ve accomplished as a writer, and then look ahead to a new year with goals and opportunities.   This year I did get a short fiction (The Pocket Watch) published at a new ‘zine, and I had an opportunity to interview a prominent poet for Motionpoems, but because the film didn’t meet certain criteria (due to the film-maker’s not following them), it was not ran/presented.  Yes, I was a bit disappointed; but I was grateful for the new experience and a chance to meet new people.  Who knows, I may try my hand at another citizen journalist’s assignment at some point.  To end the year, a short story (Jewel) and an essay (The Door) was published with Piker Press, and I submitted a (horror) short story to a (my first) contest.  I should know the result for this by the end of January 2015.

changes

 

 

 

2015 is looking more and more like a year full of life-changing events which I can’t elaborate on now.  And for that reason alone, I’m not going to set too many goals for myself.  What I will do is focus more on writing short fiction and essays, and hopefully read more books than I did in 2014.

 

What about you?  Were you able to accomplish as much as you’d hoped for this year?  What are your plans for the new year?

Cheers!

Published-The Door (an essay about death)

 

An essay that I wrote, The Door,was recently published in Piker Press.  The ezine has been running a theme for the month of November called-“Mes de los Muertos.”

Death.

I’ve dealt with death and losses since I was a girl, and when I saw its call for submissions, I knew I had to partake.

 
“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague.  Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?” Edgar Allan Poe

Themes and Writing

monsters

I believe every writer has a certain theme (s) that consistently shows up in his/her writing.  One of mine involves being hunted/terrorized by creatures.  When I was younger, I used to be a runner as well as a biker (no, not the Harley Davidson, but as an athletic racer), and for some reason, I became a popular target for dogs.  I’ve been chased down (and even bitten) more times than I can count.  So, in my dreams, I’d have these nightmares that would plague me where I would be hunted by these horrific monsters that resembled dogs, and just when they attack I’d wake up, many times covered in sweat.

But, my earliest memory of ever having a creature come for me occurred when I was around six years old.  I’ve captured this experience in a poem (which was also published with Piker Press) called Shadows:

As a young girl, I once had an experience
       that I believed was not a dream
As dawn broke, I looked down the hallway
       from my bedroom;
And saw a pair of shadows moving along
       the wall
It was of a man sitting in a wheel chair
       who was being pushed by a tall man with an afro
They were only shadowy figures,
       nothing more
Or, were they?
As these shadows slowly crept down the wall,
       no human forms would emerge
Being quite frightened, I flung the bedcovers over my head,
       and waited
Much to my horror, there were pairs of hands, pawing at me,
       as if they were trying to get past the covers
I was too terrified to call out to my parents,
       as I laid as still as I could
Next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes and found myself
       still beneath the sheets
Slowly, I peered out from underneath, and was met
       by the full, morning sunlight
The prying hands and dark shadows were gone,
       thank goodness!
To this very day, some thirty years later, I can still remember those frightening
       moments, as if they had just occurred
Was it a dream? Or, was I visited by some
       supernatural beings?
This, I may never truly know.

Article © Carrie A. Golden. All rights reserved.
Published on 2009-04-13

 

What about you?  What sort of theme (s) consistently shows up in your writing?

 

As a young girl, I once had an experience
that I believed was not a dream
As dawn broke, I looked down the hallway
from my bedroom;
And saw a pair of shadows moving along
the wall
It was of a man sitting in a wheel chair
who was being pushed by a tall man with an afro
They were only shadowy figures,
nothing more
Or, were they?
As these shadows slowly crept down the wall,
no human forms would emerge
Being quite frightened, I flung the bedcovers over my head,
and waited
Much to my horror, there were pairs of hands, pawing at me,
as if they were trying to get past the covers
I was too terrified to call out to my parents,
as I laid as still as I could
Next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes and found myself
still beneath the sheets
Slowly, I peered out from underneath, and was met
by the full, morning sunlight
The prying hands and dark shadows were gone,
thank goodness!
To this very day, some thirty years later, I can still remember those frightening
moments, as if they had just occurred
Was it a dream? Or, was I visited by some
supernatural beings?
This, I may never truly know.

Article © Carrie A. Golden. All rights reserved.
Published on 2009-04-13

– See more at: http://www.pikerpress.com/article.php?aID=3494#sthash.ylqRLjoJ.dpuf

 

As a young girl, I once had an experience
that I believed was not a dream
As dawn broke, I looked down the hallway
from my bedroom;
And saw a pair of shadows moving along
the wall
It was of a man sitting in a wheel chair
who was being pushed by a tall man with an afro
They were only shadowy figures,
nothing more
Or, were they?
As these shadows slowly crept down the wall,
no human forms would emerge
Being quite frightened, I flung the bedcovers over my head,
and waited
Much to my horror, there were pairs of hands, pawing at me,
as if they were trying to get past the covers
I was too terrified to call out to my parents,
as I laid as still as I could
Next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes and found myself
still beneath the sheets
Slowly, I peered out from underneath, and was met
by the full, morning sunlight
The prying hands and dark shadows were gone,
thank goodness!
To this very day, some thirty years later, I can still remember those frightening
moments, as if they had just occurred
Was it a dream? Or, was I visited by some
supernatural beings?
This, I may never truly know.

Article © Carrie A. Golden. All rights reserved.
Published on 2009-04-13

– See more at: http://www.pikerpress.com/article.php?aID=3494#sthash.ylqRLjoJ.dpuf

As a young girl, I once had an experience
that I believed was not a dream
As dawn broke, I looked down the hallway
from my bedroom;
And saw a pair of shadows moving along
the wall
It was of a man sitting in a wheel chair
who was being pushed by a tall man with an afro
They were only shadowy figures,
nothing more
Or, were they?
As these shadows slowly crept down the wall,
no human forms would emerge
Being quite frightened, I flung the bedcovers over my head,
and waited
Much to my horror, there were pairs of hands, pawing at me,
as if they were trying to get past the covers
I was too terrified to call out to my parents,
as I laid as still as I could
Next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes and found myself
still beneath the sheets
Slowly, I peered out from underneath, and was met
by the full, morning sunlight
The prying hands and dark shadows were gone,
thank goodness!
To this very day, some thirty years later, I can still remember those frightening
moments, as if they had just occurred
Was it a dream? Or, was I visited by some
supernatural beings?
This, I may never truly know.

Article © Carrie A. Golden. All rights reserved.
Published on 2009-04-13

– See more at: http://www.pikerpress.com/article.php?aID=3494#sthash.ylqRLjoJ.dpuf

As a young girl, I once had an experience
that I believed was not a dream
As dawn broke, I looked down the hallway
from my bedroom;
And saw a pair of shadows moving along
the wall
It was of a man sitting in a wheel chair
who was being pushed by a tall man with an afro
They were only shadowy figures,
nothing more
Or, were they?
As these shadows slowly crept down the wall,
no human forms would emerge
Being quite frightened, I flung the bedcovers over my head,
and waited
Much to my horror, there were pairs of hands, pawing at me,
as if they were trying to get past the covers
I was too terrified to call out to my parents,
as I laid as still as I could
Next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes and found myself
still beneath the sheets
Slowly, I peered out from underneath, and was met
by the full, morning sunlight
The prying hands and dark shadows were gone,
thank goodness!
To this very day, some thirty years later, I can still remember those frightening
moments, as if they had just occurred
Was it a dream? Or, was I visited by some
supernatural beings?
This, I may never truly know.

Article © Carrie A. Golden. All rights reserved.
Published on 2009-04-13

– See more at: http://www.pikerpress.com/article.php?aID=3494#sthash.ylqRLjoJ.dpuf