01 May 2018

Tragic Child

The beginning of a new book I’m developing…

Prologue

From inside the stopped car, three voices sang in unison as a lullaby, “… radiance bee-eams from heaven above. Heavenly ho-osts sing hallelujah. Christ our Savior is bo-orn. Chri-ist our Savior is born.”
The voices fell silent and a whisper came from the front seat as the man in the driver’s seat turned and whispered, “Has she dropped off, Ulysses?” Sitting close for warmth to the little girl strapped into her booster seat behind the front passenger seat, the chubby tween smiled at his father and nodded, rubbing his gloved hands together.
The woman in the front passenger seat smiled and reached back to pull the blanket more snuggly up around both backseat passengers. She then pulled the voluminous overcoat with which she and her husband were covered more snugly around them as she pressed closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, then rested his head on hers, cushioned against her thick, jet black hair. He smiled when she raised a hand in a friendly wave to the highway patrolman passing their car on the way back to his cruiser; the patrolman waved back with a friendly smile. About half an hour ago or so, he had stopped at their car, as he had done all the cars in the line of stopped cars, to tell them the city workmen were hand-spreading the de-icing chemicals on the hill because it was too steep for the sand truck to handle, adding that when the workmen were done, the road would be clearing in about an hour.
The man spoke softly, with laughter in his voice, “Mihra, I might get jealous if you keep flirting with Officer Polk.”
“You? Never.” She responded with gentle teasing in her heavily accented and musical voice, “Carter, you know nothing of how to be jealous.” They snugged up even closer together.
From the backseat, Ulysses whispered with sleepy approval, “Papa, you should hear mama… She’s always finds reasons to bring you up and tell people how great you are. She practically doesn’t talk about anything else.”
“Oh, hush Uly!” Mihra softly admonished laughingly. “You give papa a head too much too big.”
The tween’s chortle was muffled as he snugged back against the seat and pulled the blanket up around his jaw as his eyes closed and he too finally dozed off next to his younger sister.
When he was sure that both backseat passengers were well asleep, Carter lifted Mihra’s face and kissed her gently, then sighed happily. The snowfall finally petered out, and the lights set up for the workmen brightly illuminated the hill and the dozen or so workers toiling assiduously on the rising hill of the road before them. The couple watched the scene drowsily for several more minutes.
Suddenly, a cacophony of horns and shouts rose over the hill. A big rig hove into view at the top of the rise and started down the hill, the drive ignoring troopers and workmen trying to wave him off. As soon as the rig topped the hill, it began sliding and turning sideways down the hill, before beginning to roll violently down the hill, over parked cars ahead. Workmen scattered, diving any way they could out of its path.
Mihra screamed and wrenched Carter’s seatbelt unbuckled as she reached across, flinging his door open and shoving him out it. She reached back without a pause and did the same to her sleeping baby girl with the help of Ulysses, then shoved them both out the door. Carter flung them behind him and tried to reach for Mihra. But, she waved him away and started out the other her own door. Her cut-off screams as the semi-truck rolled on, leaving the crushed wreck with Mirha’s twisted corpse hanging half out the mangled, open passenger side door.

Two Years Later…

The sunshine pierced the late winter gloom of the small, cozy sitting room. The little girl at the window fairly glowed in the beam of light that fell across her. Her jet black sheath of hair glittered blue in the light. The sunlight split into beams as it haloed around her as it continued into the room, falling on the overstuffed wing chair and cluttered table next to the hearth. Next to the chair, a low, cozy fire danced behind the grate in the fireplace. The child pressed her nose against the pristine, broad pane of glass in the center of the picture window seat where she knelt, looking out. She sighed in a rather forlorn way, watching her father shoveling snow on the walk, up onto the waist-high walls of packed snow already lining the walkway.
Her brother, his dark hair with multi-colored streaks dyed haphazardly through the shoulder length, unkempt mess, came bumping raucously down the stairs, making enough noise for any three people together. Throwing his backpack in the corner of the window seat, he crossed the room, knelt briefly on the seat, almost on top of his sister. The prothesis extending from his knee thunked roundly against the hollow base of the window seat. He glared at his father who had finished shoveling snow and was standing at the end of the walk, wistfully watching the neighborhood children at play. The teen’s face wore perpetual scowl of annoyance which flowed into a scowl of derision and irritation as he watched his father outside.
His sister smiled up at him and greeted him with her soft, lilting voice, “Good morning, Uly.” Uly said nothing.
When his view became clouded by the fog of his own breath on the windowpane, Uly turned and sat with a flounce, fiddling with his prosthesis, before heading to the kitchen for breakfast. His sister turned back to the window and watched their father trudging disconsolately up the walk, seeming increasingly weighted with each step. It seemed almost like he was moving through treacle coming up the seven steps up to the porch.
To be continued – I don’t know when…
© 01 May 2018 by D. Denise Dianaty

03 April 2018

Burdened Blessings

Adults… shame on us all for making the children March for Our Lives… our nation’s burdened blessings.

And a child will lead them… marching
Change is needed… change is coming…
Change is coming in hope with burdened blessings


Children ripped again from childhood
New purpose seared across their souls
Forever changed… in six minutes and twenty seconds


Another seventeen lives torn away
Horrific tragedy now renders
Hope… Change is coming in searing burdened blessings


Adult will frozen in paralytic discord
Left children to march for our lives
Never another six minutes and twenty seconds


Change is here, the children decry
“We won’t back down! Enough!”
A Nation’s hope, these beautiful burdened blessings




Infographic from public domai 
© 26 March 2018
by D. Denise Dianaty

08 March 2018

Curse of the Bark

Graphic created by D. Denise Dianaty
He startled her with a roguish pinch
Ignored her feral smile and angry squint
In a fine-china cup she served him tea 
Made from the bark of the wolf-willow tree
Too late he learned in the moon high dark
The gypsy curse of the bark in the bark

© 08 March 2018
by D. Denise Dianaty

20 February 2018

Strange… A little frustrated aside



Don’t you just hate it…
  When your too quick fingers…
    Are tap - tap - tapping…
      Tapping out one thing…
         Flying across the keyboard…
           While your brain is thinking…
              Imaginings blazing…
                Wandering the ether…
                  And your eyes aren’t seeing…
                     What’s forming on the page…
                        But some rare something other…
                          Typos leaping ‘cross the page…
                            While majestic flights of fancy…
                              Spin and dance among the stars…
                                 When you finally settle…
                                   And look upon the page…
                                     Those typos have created…
                                        Something new and strange…





by D. Denise Dianaty

© 03 September 2014 MomzillaNC


Too Cool for God?

A poem musing on my path back to deep Faith…

Shattered by my self-flagellation…
Shuttered by self-inflicted penance…
Lost, alone by self-design…
And seeking self-redemption…
I lost the thread of His great Mercy…
Buried myself in sackcloth and ashes…

Held my head up way too high…
Smiled and pretended I didn’t care…
Denied my lost and wandering soul…
Filled with greed, sycophants, eyeing fame…
Pirouette… smile… dance the empty dance…
When did I become too cool for God?

When life was drained of all true meaning…
Abandoned to spiritual starvation…
When left with this longing of my soul…
I became jaded, cynical, incohesive.
The Godly I saw as gullible,
Old fashioned and just plain creepy…
Bible thumpin’ fanatics -- religious nuts.

But, a heart without words…
Facing an unknown future
In a world of confusion and noise…
Brought finally to finally realize
I can’t tune out the Voice of God.
A love for God sustains me.

A heart without word… restless…
May I always find rest in Him!
There’s joy in the presence of God,
And in every deed a purpose.
But, now I ask and I consider…
Am I cool enough for God?

Have I done to much and gone too wrong?
Am I still worthy of his Grace?
How can I even show my face?
Am I cool enough for God?
That doesn’t even matter!
‘Cause He’s cool enough for me!
D. Denise Dianaty
© 03 September 2014

14 February 2018

A Prayer of Mourning

From FUMC-FV
Merciful and Loving God
Surround and hold us in your Grace. 
All who mourn today beseech your loving compassion. 
Grief has come to us beyond our power to comprehend or overcome. 
We ask you to guide us and preserve us, 
Lift our hearts and let us not be overwhelmed 
Nor turn against you in our confusion and grief. 
Hold our hands, Lord, as we walk daily 
Through this veil of sadness and tragedy. 
Carry us in your Love and Mercy 
Until we come again to a place 
Where we can look forward 
And again know your Joy and Peace. 
In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ


                                                      ~Amen


by D. Denise Dianaty
© 22 September 2015
Pick up your own copy of my first 
book of poetry at My Life In Poetry

13 February 2018

Poem: "I Love You…"


Experimenting with the acrostic style…
a·cros·tic: əˈkrôstik,əˈkräs-/ noun a poem, word puzzle, or other composition in which certain letters in each line form a word or words.


I
Love You…


Listen to the quickening of my breath
Of the thump-thump, thump-thump beating of my
Virtuous and passionately racing heart
Ever hastened by the nearness of you


You gathered the pieces of my shattered heart
Overlaid the shards upon your own and
United both hearts to beat as one


I Love You…

by D, Denise Dianaty
© 21 January 2015
Pick up your own copy of my first book of poetry at My Life In Poetry

Vows of Renewal


We were married 21 December 1991. 
These are my renewal vows for my Twenty-fifth Anniversary, 21 December 2016
  
When I learned that I couldn’t create 
A love of my own
Out of the ash of human conceit…
When I’d convinced myself 
Even God couldn’t love me,
I had to learn to show Him love by loving me
And learn how to give love unselfishly
Then He sent a miraculous gift…
He sent the gift of you …
My *Pashmaloo e kachal…
To show the Truth of love only He could create.
His Word teaches from the very beginning
We were meant for each other always

Always and always to find myself in you
Soul to Soul… complete… made whole.

It’s the truth of our human experience
We must ever be seeking each other
Even from across the wide ocean
Pressed down and shaken together 
God blessed me with you,
And blessed me again with the miracle of our son.
I thank God for every breath I’ve taken,
Every breath I will ever take as your wife.
I thank you for all the respect…
All the love you’ve always shown me,
Your one and only *Khonom mushé…
And again dedicate myself for only you 
I will honor you for all the time God gives me.

Always and always to find myself in you
Soul to Soul… complete… made whole.


Genesis 2: 14, 18, 22 & 24 “The Lord God took man and put him in the Garden… said ‘It is not good for the man to be alone…’ Then the Lord God made woman… and brought her to the man… For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the will become one flesh.”

Luke 6:38 “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

Mark 10:7-9 “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become no flesh. So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate.”

I Corinthians 13:4 & 7 - 8
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud… It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres… Love never fails.”

* “Pashmaloo e kachal means fuzzy bald guy
* “Khonom mushé” means Mrs. Cutie Mouse


by D. Denise Dianaty
© 20 August 2014

Pick up your own copy of my first book of poetry at My Life In Poetry


11 February 2018

Love’s Demise


For all those couples out there who tried so hard to hold on… for when you both know you just  can’t make it work…

Love’s Demise

Sunlit darkness descended…
Casting shadows o’er hearts upended.
She smiled at him through her tears,
Turned and stumbled into the years.
He squared his shoulders and walked away…
In the end, they just couldn’t stay.

The eyes of heartache
Tell a story of heartbreak.
Falling tears, hot like blood…
Trailing down like a blood rain flood…
As hope is lost, with heaving sighs…
Two hearts convulsed in Love’s demise.

by D. Denise Dianaty
© 16 September 2014

Pick up your own copy of my first book of poetry at My Life In Poetry

10 February 2018

Too Much, Too Much!




We need more love and more tolerance to lead us to more compassion to give us more hope and help us bring more peace to our bleeding world.

Too much, too much!
Too much, too much, too much!

You say I’m wrong.
He says she’s wrong.
She says he’s wrong.
They say we’re wrong.

Too much, too much!
Too much, too much, too much!

You cry, “Stupid!”
He charges, “Uninformed!”
She judges, “Insane!"
They condemn, “Immoral!”

Too much, too much!
Too much, too much, too much!

You hate me. Why?
He hates her. Why? 
She hates him. Why?
They hate us. Why?

Too much, too much!
Too much, too much, too much!

More love, more tolerance!
More compassion, more hope, more peace!

I won’t hate you.
She needs to hear him.
He must understand her.
We will embrace them.

More love, more tolerance!
More compassion, more hope, more peace!


© 13 April 2016 


MomzillaNC



Apathy is acquiescence is compliance is approval. ~DDDianaty


Hands and hearts and minds and voices committed to working for tolerance, peace and social justice everywhere, always. ~DDDianaty