I found this in one of my notebooks. I like to practice writing with my left hand and I will do it sometimes when my carpal tunnel acts up.
*on the photo reads
Where is the poem
in the words written with
your non-dominant hand?
Maybe it’s in all the wrong
spaces. Or maybe it’s in the
learning to write again.
So, the past couple of months have been challenging.
At the beginning of May, my father died. It was very quick and very sudden. I’m still processing what happened and going through his belongings. We’re currently mid-emptying my parents’ house, bringing stuff to our own, as well as rearranging and purchasing new furniture to accommodate the new arrivals. Overall, it feels as if I’m the one moving out. Needless to say, I’m not a fan.
On the writing front, my poetry is living the dream. My poem “Petrichor” is a Rhysling finalist and “Fifth tongue”, that appeared in the Spring Issue of Silver Blade, has been nominated for the Dwarf Stars. I feel very grateful and lucky to see my poems liked by people.
Last week, my flash story “Money Thirst” was published in the 4th Issue of Radon Journal. While you’re there, check out all the wonderful poems and stories published in the same issue.
And that’s it from me. I’m going back to packing stuff and writing in between stolen moments.
Have a nice day and tell your loved ones you love them.
🌺💜
A month ago we thought spring was just around the corner, my flowers started to blossom, the sun was shining, the weather was finally warmer and then April decided it was time for rain. Rain. So much rain. All the rain. And wind of course. In Athens this month, we ended up having six hours of winter and six hours of spring.
NaNoWriMo ended a week ago and I, actually, managed to achieve my goal! Which was: make progress on the story I’ve been putting off for almost two years.
It’s the middle of September and, for as much as I had wanted autumn to come, I can’t believe it’s here and the schools are open and ohmygodimreallylosthalp.
You purr when I love you with my hands,
did you know?
A sound like a storm inside your chest,
where contentment and pleasure battle to rip your skin,
and bloom from your mouth,
and the only reason they stay inside
is your stubbornness,
and the promise of sleep,
and maybe my arms around you.
You purr and my bones mend,
did you know?