Archive for writing

The Eyes Of Truth: I Miss Writing

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on November 25, 2013 by peace4diane

Dear Readers, It’s been too long…way too long. I’ve neglected to write in the blog, even though I promised myself this time would be different. It wasn’t. I found that my life takes such unexpected turns, and the pressure to write can easily be abated by ignoring it for a minute. But as a writer who continually seeks to hone craft, I cannot ignore it…or you dear reader… for long.

So predictably now that the holidays are rapidly approaching, I have a few minutes to rub together in the hope of generating a fire about my writer’s passion. And even now as I write, the phone rings and I can tell by caller ID that it’s a co-worker.  The tea kettle whistles a merry tune for my attention to get a second cup of coffee.  One of the dogs has laid his head gently in my lap which is my signal that it’s time for a walk. In other words, I’m perpetually distracted by this thing called life.

But the writing calls, a siren nestled securely in the rocks of the shore of my soul. Today I seek to look into the eyes of truth and see who I am as a writer, artist, lover, friend. My commitment to self is to write for the blog each day. I need your help to keep this commitment. Can you comment on the posts and let me know what you like or don’t like? Let me know what bores you and why? Let me know what you’d like to know more about? It will help…I swear it will.

Until then.


For the Eternal Love of Writing

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 8, 2013 by peace4diane

I’ll admit. . .it’s been a while since my last blog entry. I have been working steadily and trying to overcome distractions to return to planet WordPress as Girl Gladiator/Word Warrior.

Gladiators Ready!

Gladiators Ready! (Photo credit: canonsnapper)

It has been quite the journey. Since my last entry, I have moved into a different physical space with my writing, having settled in a little coffee shop on the north side of the city. It is a cozy place where I never cease to find inspiration. It has quickened my resolve as a poet.

I resolve and find peace continuing to work on my little book of poems:
Crazy. Love. Poems. by Diane Lewis will be available fall 2013.

The coffee-house excites me, despite a mild case of writers’ block, my winter despair and annual depression that once again came to visit and wore out its welcome. I was finding my way back to my literary self; finding that I am the earthen vessel that carries God from one place to another.

He does not live in a building—He lives in a heart. . .my heart; and my heart loves poetry. I identify myself as a poet because that is who I am. My identity is hidden in the poet, and the poet is hidden in Him. So I continue to write and hold sacred the art of writing because I was made to be a poet, a lover of words, a wordsmith, loving all things written and discovering that for me, all roads lead to words.

I am a poet; I see the world differently by design. I live in the now as often and as fiercely as I can. I march to the drum beat rhythm in my head, not your music. Poetry makes me strong because poetry is my small offering to the world and I am happy to give it, contributing something towards humanity.

And besides all that, I have fallen in love with the concept of living (at least for a season) in Paris.

And besides all that, Stream of Consciousness is accepted for publication. Details to follow.

It has been a good break.

writing, writing, writing

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on April 15, 2010 by peace4diane

i attended a poetry read by Jessica Care-Moore who is like a young Sonja Sanchez and I fell in love with her work. Her words are real and beautiful and she weeded and watered some things that have been resting in a quiet corner of my heart for a while.  I pray after tonight that they blossom.

She spoke of many things, de-segregated education, a woman’s right to choose, politics of being black anywhere, racism, chasing dreams and personal leaps of faith, aka making a living as a poet. Of course these last two subject are the drum beat in my head. As I drove away i was thinking, i could go home immediately and just write, and write and write and write for 3 or 4 days.

then i think about how much ACT work wouldn’t get done and I pack that crazy notion and send her off to bed. but what if, just for a moment, i stayed in the moment and actually planned how to do this…

anyway, Ms. Moore  spoke of her personal leap of faith that landed her in Detroit, Michigan after her husband went cookoo for cocoa puffs and she didn’t want her young son around that . She picked as residence an overpriced luxury apartment for 6 months rather than stay with her family. Hum, family well, well, well. Nursing the bruised and battered diva i imagine.

then she came to herself and settled in another neighborhood, and got down to the business of writing and publishing. Yes, this sistah is a publisher too, having published 9 (?) different books. so then i’m thinking, what if i go home, take the phone off the hook, close the blinds, get in my most comfortable room and comfortable clothes and comfortable shoes, and go to town with writing, writing, writing.

funny even as i type the word “writing” i like the feel of it at the tips of my fingers. in the last 27 minutes, since i’ve been at the computer, i’ve removed my shoes and my bra. what’s next?

Then on the way home i began to cry because i realized that the reason i cannot be with my best friend is because she thinks what i do is a joke; and that hurts real, real bad, way down deep.

but i’m glad i have this blog and my journal so i can write about this stuff, else i would go crazy. and i’m glad i’ve given myself leave from conventional typographical rules like capitalizing the first word in a new sentence or always using correct punctuation or capitalizing proper nouns. after all, who deemed them “proper” in the first place? anyway, here’s my submission for April 15, 2010:

i mean no disrespect, Mr. Evans
i do not intend to dis you
here in front of your peers
people who worship the
ground you spit upon
willing to wipe the throne
you shit upon
3 minutes ago
but my poems have worth
and value too
they may not be black art poems
no, they’re more like
just-found-out-i-am-black poems
how-come-no-body-loves-me poems
courage-for-one-more-day poems
hold-fast-to-your-dreams poems

and you need to look me in the
eye of my storm ’cause
if it’s calm in the middle there’s
a fury outside
a hurricane of words and expressions
moving east south east
at about 85 miles an hour

you need to stop and listen
to what i have to say
so my i can be capitalized
like everyone elses
i’m afraid it has become about
you and who you are, Mr. Evans
you have outgrown your
britches, as Lovie Jane would say
if she were here
if only she were here
if only
she were here
a lot of the shit that’s been going on
would come to a grinding halt
and she would say to all of you
this here’s my granddaughter
listen to her voice
what she got to say is gonna
save your

P.S. As for capitalizing proper nouns, spellcheck found every single one of them!

…all in a days’ work

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on January 7, 2010 by peace4diane

today was one of those days. i mean, one of those i-can’t-go-on kinda days that really challenge the soul of a woman.

i turned to writing to ease and comfort myself. For my trouble, i now have chapter 1 of my chapbook for Pecan Grove Press.

the chapbook is turning into something astounding. the subject: death, dying, dead people and dead things. Uplifted? You betcha!

it’s full of suicide notes, personal observations about death and memorials. Chapter one is predicated on the writer’s morbidity and need to kill herself. in fact she has been at that place so many times that she begins to have trouble keeping track of her suicide notes. In the theatre of darkest comedy she tries an alphabetical system that fails. then she resorts to a numerical system.

this worked for a while…until she reaches suicide note #106 and decides to stop numbering them…

then eventually she stops writing them leaving the world to wonder what really pushes her over the edge. She commits suicide ultimately by walking out into heavy traffic. But not just any heavy traffic.

“Breakdown” (see Blog Pages/My Writing) is a piece in chapter I about a writer who is intent on commiting suicide in order to get her family’s attention but is upstaged by September 11th. She just can’t do anything right, so she meanders down toward ground zero, and in the chaos that followed the collapse of the twin towers, she steps off the curb into the path of an ambulance racing toward the scene.

More to follow :-0)

in pursuit of creativity

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on December 31, 2009 by peace4diane

Habari-gani. Kuumba. Today is my favorite day in Kwanzaa: Kuumba which is Swahili for Creativity. I set my intentions on being creative today. I am a writer and as such, writing is the easiest way for me to be creative.

But it just wasn’t happening.

I followed my muse and ventured out into the world. I found it gray, drab, ugly and generally uninspiring. Following my muse led me to wind up in the Smokehouse on Shelby in Fountain Square.I sat in front of a half-eaten pulled pork sandwich, cold crinkle cut fries and a Coke, trying to figure out why coming back to Fountain Square was so damn important. Overly zealous for Kuumba I guess. I thought that coming down here would somehow magically open a creative door–a literal floodgate–through which every available profundity would flow.

Alas, it was not.

Instead it was just a gray, drab, ugly winter day spent on the south side of town.  One eyesore after another assaulted me on my way there and back home. The snow that has laid around way too long is dirty and muddy. It is a mix of leaves, gravel and DOT rock salt from spreaders that canvassed the city earlier this week. YUCK. UGH. ARRRRRGH.

I must have been hungry. That always gets my feet moving.

However, the Smokehouse on Shelby was of interest. Outside my window stood the  Fountain Square fountain, recently renovated and nearly ready to unveil to the rest of the world. The infamous statue is green rather than black (if i recall correctly) and the concrete abutment that surrounds the fountain seems different. How many millions of dollars did this take? Time will tell.

I was however inspired by the curiosity of an army of 10 or 12 young adults–black, white, male, female– marching South on Shelby Street shortly after I sat down to my lunch.  They were clearly going somewhere, watching the ground and not looking up, less like the tourist I was and more like natives to this strange land.  Forty-five minutes later, this army of  youth marched North on Shelby, retreating from their conquered hill. I wondered if this battalion of young people had chosen to follow their muse too, or if like me, there were simply hungry.

the art of perserverance

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on December 30, 2009 by peace4diane

been thinking about why i write. i’ve gotten nothing published, in fact my ego was victimized by the London/UK Forward Press, Poetry Rivals scam where i get a letter saying that my poem has been accepted for publication and asking for galley proofs of the piece. This was in September 2008 and it is now December and I’ve heard nothing further from Poetry Rivals. While trying to follow up on this, i find a website that exposes the scam to get people to purchase a copy of the book in which you believe your piece is to be published. I too had sent them a check for $35.00. It preyed upon the need to see my words in print, it was cruel and it set me back.

but now i think about why i began this enormous task in the first place. word monkey. word jockey. a fool for words. i must write. it is of necessity that i put those thoughts that go scampering around in my head on paper. those  words and phrases that awaken me in the night or wait patiently at the foot of my bed until i awake and whisper good morning. it is necessary work for me as a creative person. it is necessary.

so why is winning contests and awards and fellowships so important? that is a mystery that i would like to solve in the coming year. what ego-maniac lives here in this studio that drives this need for recognition? Aren’t my words important even if NOONE ever reads them? For that matter, why blog, why put your mind on the world wide web so routinely now? the subject of ‘the art of perserverance’ is intriguing to me. i will persevere.