Autumn Nights

Chorus of crickets harmonizing as a soft breeze

combs the trees,

branches gently swaying...

Harvest moon winking at me through filmy clouds 

in the autumn sky,

a familiar face.

Memories flood back. I close my eyes recalling

games of hide 'n seek

with childhood friends...

Running, tripping in the dark through yards,

over rock and bushes

to touch Home Base.

Autumn's cool breath mixing with summer's

waning warmth beckons me

to stay and listen...

But turning a deaf ear to go inside and close

the door and miss

the chance to rest.

Tonight I pray Old Man Moon and cricket friends

resume their autumn play

for an audience of one...

Sitting in my Adirondack chair, head back,

absorbing the sight and sounds

of nature's best.

Skeletons in the Closet

October brings a dramatic change in the weather; the air chills, trees begin their shift from soft and vibrant greens to yellows, brown, red, and orange, and the sun sets earlier. As an adult I miss the nice warm days, but as a child I was more excited that Halloween was just around the corner. In keeping with the spirit of Halloween, this year I received some information about a deceased relative, news that surprised and saddened me: a true skeleton in the closet.

My mother's cousin is our family historian and genealogy expert. I am the writer of our group and often use her findings for short stories or character types. However, with her recently discovered facts, I'm not sure how, when, or where to use it. Growing up I idolized this person and admired him for his strength, skill at overcoming adversities, and for his myriad accomplishments. I still do, but realize he was only human and made some serious errors in judgement, not earth shattering ones, but mistakes all the same.

On the tenth anniversary of my mother's death, I wrote a short story about the days immediately following her passing. It was cathartic, and helped me to understand Mother, myself, and our fractured relationship. In the story, I revealed our family tree included a Salem, Massachusettes' witch who was hanged during the trials. Her inclusion was appropriate and enhanced the mood of the scene by adding punch to the subject of death. I do believe in the unusual, the supernatural, the unexplained, the things that make your skin crawl and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

So I will include some of our family's flawed characteristics and a sampling of their unexplainable actions in future short stories. Truth is stranger than fiction.

Stay tuned... 

Update: I did include some of the above subjects in my novel, Between Heartbeats, which was released in August 2015

Ode to Fall

Creatures of the Night

As night falls, I hurry home

switch on lights, close doors
to the cold night air
and imagine the Boogey Man
outside, in the dark,
ready to pounce.

Sundown comes
filmy clouds drift
across the blackened canvas
to kiss the star-dappled sky
painted purposefully, perfectly
by One more skilled than any mortal.

On velvet pads

nightlife crawls over wet grasses,
along woody branch,
through their realm
unseen by man
one hundred times as large.

Why fear what is hidden?
Nocturnal life lives in twilight.
Where I stumble, predators are agile.
Cats fleet of foot, owls dive with
unblinking amber eyes opened wide;
they survive another day.

Invisible world could teach me to trust,
to open windows and doors,
tiptoe outside, breathe night air,
creep over damp soil,
look under leafy screens,
meet creatures one thousand times as small.

To appreciate lesser inhabitants

may be contrary to human logic,
but to embrace the universal plan
set in motion purposefully, perfectly
by Him eons ago
is worth the endeavor.

Ship in a Bottle

The first time I saw a sailing ship sitting in a small glass bottle, I was a child. I couldn't believe my eyes and asked my father to explain it. To the best of his ability, he explained how this feat was done, and I was awed by it. I still am.

Writing is something like building a ship in a bottle; the writer constructs an idea which is transformed into words, sentences, and paragraphs to form a story, poem, or a book. Certain confines and accepted parameters should be followed in order to create a cohesive, readable piece that not only entertains, but instructs the reader as well.

Thinking about a delicate, intricately constructed ship sitting within a solid glass container reminds me of my book, which was carefully crafted, strung together with my heart and soul, and endless hours of creating and editing. When it was finally inserted between the covers of a book, my "ship" was complete and ready to launch.

My first book was purely a practice piece and I kept it in the family. Then, I switched to poems and short stories and found I loved the challenge of getting to the point in as few words as possible. My second book, Through the Tunnel of Love, A Mother's and Daughter's Journey with Anorexia published in April of 2011, was born from a labor of love. And now I can say I am a novelist. My Booktrope novel, Between Heartbeats, was published August 28, 2015. It is the story of a young girl's coming of age.

Think about creating your own ship in a bottle, in whatever form you choose. I assure you that it will be one of the most worthwhile and rewarding things you can do in life.

Colors and Textures of Nature

I didn't realize the extent to which colors and textures affect my moods; specifically the colors and textures of nature. When we re-decorated our family room recently, we chose neutral colors for the tile floor, area rug, and furniture: taupe, brown, and olive green, like the earth. Then I added reds, gold, and hints of orange to accent with pillows, pictures, and other pieces. Looking at the room, I see the colors of autumn, my favorite season of the year. Now I spend more time there, reading, studying, watching t.v., and spending time with family.

Whenever possible, I introduce some facet of nature into our home with pictures and prints of birds, flowers, and outside scenes. Since childhood, I have drawn energy and a sense of peace from God's beautiful world. Our father took my brother and me to the beach, and we camped in the Columbia Gorge, the Oregon Cascades, and Crater and Diamond Lake areas. Those happy times and memories remain with me to this day.

My husband and I just returned from Central Oregon: the land of ponderosa pine, mountains, and lakes. Of course it's winter and the colors are muted, the landscape is softened, and quieted with a blanket of snow. I loved every moment of our vacation as I soaked in the tranquility for six days. Bringing this feeling home, with a cup of tea beside me and a warmed spirit inside, I'll spend the next days recording my feelings in poetry and prose.

Mother's Day Tribute

A Thousand Thanks Could Never Be Enough



Warm smile, laughing eyes, true in every way is my Mother-in-Love,
my husband’s mother, my children’s grandmother, my friend.

Madeline has always walked with truth, loved wisely and well,
but now her mind falters, hesitant to recall memories and names.

Eyes not as bright, step not as brisk, she sits quietly,
but in her heart she knows what’s been forgotten.

Madeline’s world is smaller now, smaller but not trivial,
for she opened the world to me, loved me, accepted me as her own.

She is my Mother-in-Love, not related by blood, but by choice,
by acceptance, by shared experiences.

I will miss her, I miss her already, and I have to say good-bye,
inch by inch, moment by moment as she slips away.

But in God’s time she’ll be restored to her full self,
warm smile, laughing eyes, true in every way is my Mother-in-Love.

Written by Donelle Knudsen in 2008

Musings

In looking at the date I last updated my blog spot, I'm embarrassed that it's been so long. However, so much has happened since September. Yes, our daughter was married, yes, she was beautiful, yes, the wedding went off perfectly, and yes, we are thrilled for the happy life and future they have in store.
I've begun a new "outside the home career", continue to write and as always, look forward to each new day. Next to fall, spring is my favorite time of year and so I anticipate the first crocus and daffodil to brave the cold temps and push up their heads.
For the present time, poetry has taken a front seat in my writing career. I find great solace in writing poetry and in reading poems by other writers. I wonder why I never understood or appreciated poetry before, but I think it has something to do with the way it was presented in school.
Check out my other website, www.authorsden.com/donelleknudsen for my recent blogs, poems, short stories and news; and read the worthy pieces written by of hundreds other writers.
Bless you all in the new year. Talk to you soon - I promise.