Inspiration…Wherever You Can Get It!

poetry, writing, inspiration, writer, native american, superstition, talisman, totems,                   I was sitting, in my car, on a freeway, (some might say a parking lot), stuck in traffic, not moving.  To while away the time I was reading the bumper stickers and signs in the back windows of other automobiles.  Wondering if I’d ever get home, it suddenly struck me; the parallel between totems, talismans, and these stickers, magnets, paste-ons that modern man posts on his steel steed to declare his beliefs.

Here is an excerpt of the poetry that was born while impatiently sitting in traffic.  Grabbing scraps of paper from the floorboards, writing on a restaurant napkin, old receipt, the back of a grocery list… lest I forget my words~~~~

Totem and Talisman  ©

Totem. Storyteller of the tribe’s history and lore,
felled and carved in reverence, from the tree centuries old  sculpted in living wood;
a face, a fish, a spirit, a bear, the sun, the moon

Totems live on as statuary in the garden;  a wooden rooster tops the mail box.
A mural brushed upon a barn wall; the flag of a beloved country, the star of a lone state.

The Nations painted their sturdy, brave little horses before battle…
a circle of paint about the eye for truer vision, hand prints on shoulder
and flank to ward off the spear

Today’s tribes paint their vehicles with bumper stickers, magnetic ribbons,
and window decals. All proclaiming some truth, totems to tell other tribes what they believe.

Support this, hate that, down with this, up with that.  Proud to be a redneck,
a woman, a boater, a christian, a Viet Nam vet, proud to be a farmer,
a republican, a parent, a fisherman.  Prouder still to be a soldier,
a grandpa, a boy scout, a sailor, a golfer, an Irishman, a lover of guns.’ ©

Keep yourself open to inspiration…eyes, ears, brain and heart.  You will be inspired by strange and wonderful things and you will write strange and wonderful things. You will leave totems for following generations to read.

To read more of my poetry……..click here
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The Medicine Bag – Poetrysoup.com Featured Poem

Dear Trisha,
Congratulations, this is just a quick notice to let you know that your poem
The Medicine Bag is one of the poems being featured on the PoetrySoup home page this week. 
Thanks again and congratulations. 
Sincerely, 
PoetrySoup 

The Medicine Bag © thJX3QXAPB

March the centuries on, 
the talisman wraps and 
clings to the collar bone. 

The medicine bag cups holy 
bones that speak of the 
future, flint and stone to
 make magic fire 

strong medicine in the 
feather of the eagle
a tooth of the wolf when the 
spirit guide is he
 
Should the moon's cycle be
the guide. an agate stone 

Antler bone, its spirit 
sacrificed, meat and juices 
hiss into the fire on a wintry 
night 

Amulets forever worn 'round 
the neck touched by hands 
to reassure 

Fear, pain and loss subside 
Joy celebrated stroked in 
thanksgiving, always there, 
a comfort 

To lose it was to lose one's 
self 
 
The medicine bag still adorns 
the educated, the modern 
the agnostic 

Turquoise of a native people
rosary beads for a strict and 
vengeful God
a locket filled with a 
beloved's hair 

hippy beads from the time of 
peace signs and Haight-Ashbury 

a gold chain dangling stones 
ripped from the earth 

David's star shining over
centuries of darkness
 
A shark's tooth from the icy, 
indifferent depths 

silver charms jingle and talk of 
life's landmarks 

the gold cross celebrating a 
vicious torture 

worry beads from a 
mysterious and ancient cult 

a modest grain of sand 
coated with oyster spit 

the ashes of one that can.t 
be let go, lest it diminish the 
life that remains 

Medicine bags…all
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DON’T MISS UPCOMING BLOGS featuring INTERVIEWS with  best-selling AUTHORS!      Grant Blackwood (Tom Clancy) in Sept. and Julia London in October.
Don’t Miss it! 
A bonus Interview with iconic comic book writer, Chuck Dixon, in September.
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Time to Take a Breath…Time For a Little Poetry

crazy ladyWhat a week!  Wrangling with a small so-called, publisher and their poorly written contract, (which I turned down). Writers! Beware of scam artists that call themselves publishers!  A week of being in the clutches of an editor (just kidding…it’s a wonderful experience, writers, you should try it) and trying to survive record-breaking summer temps in Savannah.

I said to a friend, just today, (when she said she was taking a few days off but would continue to work from her mobile.)  ‘BALANCE’,  turn your phone off. Continue reading “Time to Take a Breath…Time For a Little Poetry”

Beneath the Surface of a Writer’s Life

Writer Iceberg
I stumbled across this wonderful graphic (by Sudio Sudarsan) of a ‘writer’s ice berg’.    Not many people, aside from we who write, know this world.  It’s lonely, scary, humiliating, and painful.  It’s also uplifting, soul filling, mind stretching and wonderful.

I count myself the luckiest of women that I developed my craft and didn’t give up when people said, ‘no’.  I am the most fortunate of writers to have realized that the process has to be planted in good soil, watered, and given lots of sunshine. Even when I am writing from a dark place.

We writers should never sit back and say, ‘I have arrived. I don’t need to grow anymore.  I am at the top of my game.’   If you’ve read any of my interviews with really famous authors, they aren’t smug….far from it…they are striving to be better just like you and I are.  Continue reading “Beneath the Surface of a Writer’s Life”

PoetrySoup.com features this author’s poetry

moss covered trees Dear Trisha,

Congratulations, this is just a quick notice to let you know that your poem Memories of the South is one of the poems being featured on the PoetrySoup home page this week. Poems are rotated each day in groups of 14-16 to give each poem an equal opportunity to be displayed.

Thanks again and congratulations.  Sincerely, PoetrySoup

Memories of the South

Memories of the Old South
Brush and ink by Trisha Sugarek

spanish moss shimmers
slave ghosts of days long gone by
hanging from the trees

stain on Old Glory
dark time of subjugation
when man enslaved man

memories forever
then bodies, now gray moss hangs
tears, blood darken roots

For more Haiku-style (Renku) poetry check out my book, The World of Haiku

PoetrySoup.com features this Writer’s work!

Dear Trisha,

Congratulations, this is just a quick notice to let you know that your poem Fall Opens the Door is one of thepoetry, Haiku, family, love, betrayal, death, grief, recovery poems being featured on the PoetrySoup.com home page this week. Poems are rotated each day in groups of 14-16 to give each poem an equal opportunity to be displayed.

Thanks again and congratulations.

PoetrySoup

Fall Opens the Door ©  (Renku)

morning sun dapples
trees in a polka-dot dress
shines soft green and light

chilly hint of autumn
smells of summer, loam, and pause
visions of winter

sap returns from leaves
to store deep in the tree heart
yellow, red, orange, burnt

Note: Renku is a style of Haikuhaiku, poetry, pen and ink art, poems, Japanese haiku,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Skip to the Head of the Line

bookstoreMy book store is just a click away!  USE THIS CODE 336699 AND GET 10% OFF of any BOOK purchase UNTIL November 31st.   The Web Site has a new feature: you can now buy an autographed copy of any book directly from the author using your Visa, MasterCard through PayPal. And you don’t need a PayPal account to use it. It’s so easy!

Scripts about bullying and other teen issues.  Great for the

Ten Minutes to Curtain, Vol. I, II, & III
Ten Minutes to Curtain, Vol. I, II, & III

classroom!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fiction.  The new mystery series, ‘The World of Murder’ with Detectives O’Roarke and Garcia.artofmurder_cover (2)

 

 

WOW.BanW._wow (3)Don’t miss “Women Outside the Walls” 

 

 

 

 

and”Wild Violetsfiction, women, flappers, prohibition, San Francisco, roaring twenties

Continue reading “Skip to the Head of the Line”

Prologue to a Saturday Post

Saturday I will post a nostalgic piece about my years living in the Vieux Carré of New Orleans.  Full time actress, part time day job (gotta pay the rent) radio and TV talent.  Hookers, mob bosses, millionaires all supporting our live theatre productions. Rehearsing in the cellar of the Performing Arts Building, where little beady red eyes watched from the shadows.   So we will start with a little poetry to wet your curiosity:

New.Orl.Mist.Adieux My Beauty  ©

Standing outside the gate,
eager to say goodbye, remembering
all the reasons to say hello

New Orleans, that witchy woman, whose song is
loved and never forgotten, whose taste
lingers on the tongue forever.
Where love bloomed on a rain slick night

Now, as I bend to kiss the powdered, rouged
cheek, my nostrils are assailed by
the sweet odor of rotting flesh eaten
away in the darkest recesses by a decadent,
self indulgent cancer Continue reading “Prologue to a Saturday Post”

Haiku Poetry from around the World and here at Home!

monkey.3

As promised, send me your poetry (Haiku) and I will post it.  The surprising and delightful thing is I received poetry from all ages and from as far away as India and Argentina.  It’s only fitting that we begin with one from the master.

 

Untitled    (Bashô, Japan)

the first cold shower;
even the monkey seems to want
a little coat of straw.

To enjoy life  (María del Carmen Chiappero, Argentina)

The lovely sun shines,trees.sun7
the wind blows by the window,
an old sweet song sounds.

With a melody,
Many melancholy words
leave a deep meaning.

We´re “dust in the wind”.
We´re all part of this giant big world,
but we´re very small.

Moments don’t come back
life goes on now, step by step
Then let´s enjoy life.
Continue reading “Haiku Poetry from around the World and here at Home!”

Are You a Room Without a Roof?

I was watching an interview with Pharrell Williams (composer/rapper) and he said, “I’m a room without a roof.” That struck home with me.  Some of my detractors say that I can’t stay with one thing, in my writing.  That I jump around from prison stories to children’s books, to mysteries, and on to poetry.

Yes! ‘I’m a room without a roof.’  There is no ceiling (boundaries) I can fly!  I stay open to the universe and to ideas and inspiration.  Watching that interview, Pharrell inspired me to write about my room with no roof.

write1Don’t let anyone lock your creative self in a room and slam the ‘roof’ shut.  Family, friends, spouses, all want what they think is best for you.  They love you right?  If I had listened to one friend, I would never have stepped on a stage.  When I told one of my oldest friends that I was going to an acting conservatory,  she was frightened.  When we talked it out, she was actually afraid that she would lose me.  I went on to have a 30+ year career on stage, acting and directing.
Continue reading “Are You a Room Without a Roof?”