Author: dairsik

Well, it’s been a while since I posted but I have been busy. My writing journey has morphed into more than poetry and fiction. I have written several short non-fiction stories for consideration in Kansas publications and also a few fiction. I am exploring these genres and enjoying stretching my writing muscles.

My poetry book has been accepted for publication with Anamcara Press and we will begin serious work on getting it published this year. I am also exploring the historical fiction genre for a novel. There is so much rich history and including it in our books is a challenge to educate readers about our past.

Stay tuned for more on the curious tale of Amy Vine and her inheritance. Amy was displaced during the attempt by the British to protect children during the war and she ends up in a convent. Amy knows her first name and was found on Vine Street. Her story will unfold and she will find her place.

I recently went looking for a small nativity for John, my son, to keep in his room. We looked in bookstores, mall pop-ups, and large department stores, and sadly we discovered that the world is stealing the true meaning of Christmas. There was one small kiosk with beautiful nativities from the Holy land but otherwise, there was no indication that Christ had any part to play in this celebration.

There was an abundance of trees, Santas and elves, reindeer, gnomes, and one, or two angels but not a single Christ-child in a store. Who are we celebrating? Why are we denying Him? His birth is the entire purpose for this celebration but our retailers are afraid to have His image or name in their stores.

We might as well call it Santamas or Elfmas. It was a wake-up call for me. I know that we all get carried away but to realize that CHRIST has been made small in christmas was a painful realization.

I am sharing this poem and this post as a reminder to all of us that Jesus is the reason for this celebration. Let’s keep Christ in Christmas.

The Savior’s Birth

Bells are ringing,

Choirs singing,

Tidings of good cheer.

People rushing,

Fixing stuffing;

But why are we here?

A babe they’re saying,

Singing, praying,

Bethlehem, we hear

Stop the rushing.

Forget the stuffing.

Truth is strong and clear.

We’re forgetting.

That long-ago setting.

The Saviors’ birth draws near.

I recently went looking for a small nativity for John, my son, to keep in his room. We looked in bookstores, mall pop-ups, and large department stores, and sadly we discovered that the world is stealing the true meaning of Christmas. There was one small kiosk with beautiful nativities from the Holy land but otherwise, there was no indication that Christ had any part to play in this celebration.

There was an abundance of trees, Santas and elves, reindeer, gnomes, and one, or two angels but not a single Christ-child in a store. Who are we celebrating? Why are we denying Him? His birth is the entire purpose for this celebration but our retailers are afraid to have His image or name in their stores.

We might as well call it Santamas or Elfmas. It was a wake-up call for me. I know that we all get carried away but to realize that CHRIST has been made small in christmas was a painful realization.

I am sharing this poem and this post as a reminder to all of us that Jesus is the reason for this celebration. Let’s keep Christ in Christmas.

The Savior’s Birth

Bells are ringing,

Choirs singing,

Tidings of good cheer.

People rushing,

Fixing stuffing;

But why are we here?

A babe their saying,

Singing, praying,

Bethlehem, we hear

Stop the rushing.

Forget the stuffing.

Truth is strong and clear.

We’re forgetting.

That long-ago setting.

The Saviors’ birth draws near.

Thanks, Sally for supporting independent Authors!

If you love historical fiction you would enjoy Hazel Hart’s Pierce Family Saga and now her spin-off, Uprooted, The Adventures of Hanna True: Book 1.

It is a quick read.

I enjoyed the history and cultural aspects of the book. Women are just coming into the time when they are bravely pushing for the vote and other rights. Hannah has been left with nothing after her father dies and leaves the hotel she has been managing to her brothers-in-law. Women could not inherit property so Hannah has to find a new identity in a world hostile to women. She meets a man on the train that offers her a surprising solution. He owns a detective agency and wants Hannah to work for him.

The book is well written and in the tradition of Mrs. Hart’s other books, the history is researched and incorporated well. I have enjoyed each of the books in the Pierce Family Saga, and look forward to the next of Hannah True’s adventures.

I just wanted to share another poem that will be in the upcoming book. We had about six inches of snow and it made me think of sharing this poem.

Winter Clouds

Barren boney-fingered
Trees reach to the heavens
Searching
For life in Winter clouds
Brooding dark filtering light
Holding back the warmth of
Sun
Teasing with glorious sunrises
Sunsets that dazzle
Waiting for the melting
Season
of life
Heavy with snow or icy rain
Turning the boney fingers
Into a crystal wonderland
Sometimes
Dumping random mounds
Of white like Cossack hats
Accents to counter 
Starkness
Winter clouds the canopy
In natures rhythm
A time to gather strength
Storing nourishment preparing
Sun
Breaks through the grey
Quilt and warms the earth
A peek at the fluff of white
Soon
Light will come with
The thunderheads of
Spring
and
Summer skies

I thought I would share a poem for valentines day that will be included in the poetry book that I hope to have completed in a couple of months.

Love changes as we grow and change.

Love Is

Love was
A tsunami of passion,
Cresting, plummeting,
Sucking you into the deep,
Then lifting you to start again.

Adrenaline rush,
Breathless kisses,
Electric touches,
Like the tides,
Ebb and flow,
So is love.

Mellowing, 
Softening,
Need becomes us,
Not me.
Thoughts not I
But we.

A glance Cherished, 
A touch encouraged,
You the other half
Of me.

We pant together in birth,
Cry together in death,
Pray together to reclaim faith.

Our beauty fades,
But I see
In me what you see,
The jewel that
Love is.