Without those of you who write and read the pieces inspired by the weekly photos, thewritephoto prompt would not exist. So, if you follow or take part in the weekly challenge, why come over and introduce yourself too? Just drop me a line…
I live in the Metroplex of the Dallas/Fort Worth, Texas area. I work full time and own a home in the area. When not writing or working, I love to putter around my house and spend time with my best friend, my Chihuahua, Rocket.
I’ve lived all over the United States. My mother married a migrant worker and then a military man. So I have lived in tents, barracks, shacks, homes and everything in between.
I have been a strong advocate for ending the stigma of mental illness. My family has had its battles with it and this incentive is what pushes me to continue to speak out.
My poetry style, for the most part is Free Form. I will occasionally write a rhyming poem, but not often. With Free Form, I feel that it gives me much more versatility and ability to express myself. In my writing, you will see an expression that is not hindered by the constraints of punctuation or the usual strict rules set forth in most writing.
I write in several genres. I am working on my first novel, a thriller and I will soon be publishing a collection of my poetry.
I didn’t discover my passion for writing until I was in my fifties. Although, I’ve written since childhood. My writing has evolved greatly in the last several years. I find myself inspired, influenced and encouraged by the amazing writing talent that is to be found on WordPress.
I know that I am Much too early for a poem about winter. But the words “Winter’s Child” came to me and would not let me go. So I had to do something with them. I hope you enjoy. 🙂
Your eyes are icy blue;
your hair, winter white.
The sun no longer warms us,
Try as it might.
Your skin is as cold
as the lonely moon.
The stars look on with envy
as they spin their frigid tune.
The northern winds chill us
as you whisper December’s name.
A blanket of snow, your gift.
A frozen landscape, your aim.
No harm is meant to us
as the ice crystals softly drift.
For the Winter Child’s heart is tender.
The snow, a winter gift.
Copyright © 2018 Penny Wilson