About Us

My photo
Two creative friends a writer and a musician - find themselves perfectly paired to inspire one another during the long hot days of an Arizona summer. Words squeezed from souls parched by the desert sun, raw and sometimes bitter like the juice of a lemon, turned sweet by the notes that will accompany them...come enjoy some refreshing Lyrical Lemondade.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

The Milk Lept Out of her


The piece posted below, (and many that will follow) is an excerpt from my freewrite group. So, a brief history of the group and the process seems warranted.

My Freewrite Group (in Phoenix) is based on a group that I joined in Seattle several years ago. That group was organized by my good friend and fellow writer, Hadiyah Carlyle, who based it on the writing style of Natalie Goldberg.

Natalie combined the notion of freewriting with Zen Buddhist meditation principles to develop writing practice, described in books such as Writing Down the Bones (1986).

Free writing (also stream-of-consciousness writing) is a writing technique in which a person writes continuously for a set period of time without regard to spelling, grammar, or topic. It produces raw material and helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and self-criticism. Some writers use the technique to collect initial thoughts and ideas on a topic, often as a preliminary to formal writing.

Writing practice is different from freewriting encouraged in undergraduate and creative writing programs. Writing practice encourages the writer to be aware of their thoughts throughout the writing practice, and may be an ends unto itself, rather than a means to produce a more polished piece.

My process for this piece (our original process format has evolved to encompass several styles now): each member picks a provocative phrase, word, quote or sentence to share. A time limit for writing is chosen (usually 5, 10, or 15 minuets) and then a topic is pulled. The time keeper says begin and each member writes the first thing that comes to their mind after having read/heard the topic. [It's important to note that sometimes members wind up free styling a story which is in its rawest form, for others its just random thoughts, or it can simply be a series of disjointed ideas, there are NO restrictions or judgments as to what flows, that’s the point!].
If you would like a Free copy of The Freedom of Free Write: A How to Guide please email me at kathleen@professionalpunch.com)- the first 5 responses will be honored.

This piece started with the phrase, The milk leapt out of her and took a decidedly dark turn...

[Excerpt]

The milk leapt out of her, it seemed, as the baby suckled at her breast. At least that’s what Marjorie said as she kept prattling on about her baby, baby, baby, blah, blah, blah…Alright already my mind shouted. Quit your baby talk before I feed him to the damn dingos…

“Really, that’s amazing”, I said, reining in my malcontented mind before I let loose my tongue to lash poor fat Marjorie into submission, back to where she was just 10 short months ago. Back to being best friend-confidant- and part of the Tuesday night girls club….back to being mine. Oh, I'm happy for her, really. And I adore baby Ava. I just don't want to see her lose herself completely. Besides- my only thought of babies at this point is the cute little pug puppies that I’m feathering the nest for.

Ahhh, the timeless question, to be milked or not???

Saturday, August 1, 2009

I've Been To This Place Before



When close relationships are not what you wish they would be. When love turns to pain and anger replaces admiration, your world becomes darkness where there is no place to escape this feeling that overcomes mind body and soul. When a loved one abuses drugs or a marriage is suffering from outside intrusions and confusion is the most familiar feeling of all, it becomes once again the place that you most want to leave, the opposite of peace and the place where security and love do not reside.


I've been to this place before
I didn't like it then and I don't like it now
Where the anger rages
Animals are in their cages
There are falling rocks
Burning trees
Doors with locks
No blowing breeze
People live and die alone
People that blame cast the first stone
The lake is dry
Birds can't fly
Flowers don't bloom

There is no room to be free
Peace is far away
That's a mirage you see
Berries are poison
Air is thick
Just one breath And you are sick
I've been to this place before
I didn't like it then and I don't like it now

Friday, July 17, 2009

where your coffee cup was in PROSE

So this version was the original starting point, a little piece sent to express an immediate emotion. Later, with some reworking and expansion of scope, it became poetry.

Which do you like better? Which moves you? Can you see the poetry becoming lyrics to a song?
Responses please!
--------------------
The coffee cup on the dresser has gone cold. I look at it and smile...sadly. You're gone now, probably in the airport by now, and I know this is probably the last time I'll see you here in Arizona for a long time. Changes are occurring and the future is so uncertain, I'm glad that we all had this tiny fraction of a second (it seems to me) to spend together.

Happy traces left behind are the beautiful smelling flowers you gave me and a clean house and kitchen floor, a nice side benefit of having company.

Still- my work has piled up, and frankly, I'm a bit disinterested in trying to tackle it all, even though focusing on it would be better than staring at your cold coffee.

I miss you both already, happy I got to see you, happy for the reason for the trip, but still my heart feels pierced and my eyes sting with tears as I get into the shower....

Thursday, July 16, 2009

where your coffee cup was

The coffee cup on the dresser has gone cold.
I look at it- sadly smile
You're gone now- you're on the road.

Changes are occurring
and the future is so uncertain.

We had a second - it seems to me-
to spend together
your visit made me feel
made me better
but only a fraction- just a tiny tether
on our way looking towards forever.

Changes are occuring
and the future is so uncertain.

You're gone and the work has piled high
and i know i should stay busy,
still i can't work, can't stop staring
as my world spins - all i feel is dizzy

Changes are occuring
and the future is so uncertain.

Really anything would be better
then my cheeks getting wetter
but traces left behind - that beautiful flower
are monuments and memories
found in my brown tower

My heart is pierced now
and my eyes sting with tears
as I clean your cup
chipped from so many years.

Beause changes are occuring
and the future is so uncertain.