Journal of a Whisperer

A Lost Soul

lisajan — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 06:59:19 +0000

Sometimes I step into your room, alone
Searching for a piece of you
A memory, a shadow, a song
Have you ever heard how a house
Begins to sag when the people are gone
There is nothing but desolation there now
A desolate room and a desolate heart

In My World

lisajan — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 21:36:44 +0000

A cardinal pair in the shrubbery bush out my kitchen window

A nip in the air on this 60 degree day

A couple of tom cats squaring off

The weathered fence blending in with the leafless trees of winter

A cloudless sky

Bird baths set along the tree line

Wind rustling through the long leaf pines

Airplanes in the distance sailing against a pale blue sky

A cast iron wash pot painted an antique green

A small beetle on the window pane

Thoughts for the Day

lisajan — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 22:40:08 +0000

From my window…Long Leaf Pines standing sentinel against a perfect blue sky

Looking for my reading glasses, only to find them on top of my head

Excited about a new Nicholas Sparks book purchase

Waiting for a reuniting, and the missing piece of my heart restored

The peaceful quiet of the country interrupted by the blasts from the hunters’ rifles

Love and peace hanging on my wall … my 19 year old son’s painting after dabbling with my seven year old daughter’s Christmas water colors

Regret and disappointment in my heart, soothed with the balm of hope

A bittersweet memory

A slight breeze rustling through the trees

A voice silenced

February Ramblings

lisajan — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 22:01:03 +0000

Depression is a scourge on the soul.

Buds on the plum trees, a hint of spring to come.

A desolate room, a desolate heart.

Snow birds in the leafless bushes out my kitchen window.

A barefoot walk up a sunny dirt road on a 62 degree day in January.

A memory of a hot summer day and a family trip to the canyon.

A light left on, and a light turned off.

A glimmer of hope.

Strangers trading banter and a smile.

A story begging to be told.

Need Help with Writing

lisajan — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 03:42:30 +0000

I’m working on a story and I’m trying to describe a bar scene. The setting is a hole in the wall pool hall in South Florida. I am wanting to describe some of the patrons, but I am drawing a blank. I’d love some suggestions, or help!

Just Sayin’

lisajan — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 05:04:11 +0000

These days, I am only cooking on 1/2 brain cell, and its batteries are low.

When I was a child, I called the Harbor Tunnel (of Baltimore) the ‘Horrible Tunnel’. I thought that’s what my parents were saying.

I fractured my wrist trying to learn to skate when I was 30 something.

Root canals are in my top 10 list of favorite things to do.

I believe in God….the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

My daughter is allergic to milk.

If a doctor tells you your heart is as healthy as his, do you think he ought to tell you how healthy his heart is?

I like Gunsmoke.

I used to love Robert Ludlum novels.

Have you ever heard of Howard the Hyena, or the Giant Pipe Monster?

I’ve read ‘The Ezekiel Option’, by Joel Rosenberg. I have ‘Dead Heat’ (my son gave it to me for Christmas), but I haven’t read it yet.

My sister is an artist.

Chuck Norris for president! Yes, I know I already said that.

My car was totaled back in 1990. Someone rear ended me, and my ten month old and I ended up upside down in a gully.

I’m writing a romance story. There! I said it.

I have a headache.

I used to have regular dreams of air planes falling out of the sky. Maybe it’s because I lived near an air base when I was a kid.

My favorite teacher from elementary school just died.

And that’s all she wrote.

My Random Thoughts, Not Yours

lisajan — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 04:50:09 +0000

It’s 12:25 AM and pouring down rain outside.

My daughter turned seven yesterday.

I called my 19 year old son tonight and told him I loved him, and I missed him.

I hate when I spend all day waiting for a chance to write on my story, then feel uninspired.

I’ve listened to ‘Losing My Religion’ (REM), ‘One Headlight’ (Green Day), and ‘Torn’ (Natalie Imbruglia) tonight.

There’s a widely scattered patch of long stemmed, yellow flowers blooming in my woods. It’s a wonderful thing to run up on something like that, such as the violets that bloom in early spring.

My crepe myrtle tree limped along with its blooms this summer. It bloomed fully last summer.

I got a call from an old friend today.

My husband built my daughter a tree house. It’s really cool.

Depression is such a bummer. It kills the spirit.

I need glasses!

God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. 1 John 4:16

I just saw a flash of lightening in my window.

My brother bought me a book, ‘No One to Trust’, by Iris Johansen. I haven’t read it yet.

I used to work for a Poulan chain saw distributorship. It was my first job.

When I was 19, I found a perfect star fish on the beach.

Artwork of a Six Year Old

lisajan — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 19:21:48 +0000

Writing for Who?

lisajan — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 20:26:00 +0000

I’m struggling with writer’s block again with my story. I think part of the problem is that I stopped writing it for me, and started thinking I was supposed to write it in such a way that it would be ‘acceptable’ to others. Of course, we want other people to read what we write, but if we start writing to fit their preferences rather than from our own heart, I think we can get lost; at least I have.

What do you think? What if everyone loves a sunny day, so that’s what they want a book to be written about, but the writer prefers the storm?

Backyard Rooster

lisajan — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 21:52:19 +0000

My grandparents lived on an hundred acre farm in the country, and it was a treat to me as a child to visit. But my visits were often fraught with peril. LOL

One such perilous situation came in the form of the backyard rooster. I like to call him Backyard Rooster. I just came up with that. Haha

So, anyway, the chicken coop was kept behind my grandparents’ house, and the chickens were let out in the daytime to scratch around in the dirt backyard. One weekend visit, I wanted to go play in the backyard, but I was afraid to because of Backyard Rooster. Grandmama told me to just grab a big stick and go. She assured me Backyard Rooster had much respect for ‘the stick’, and would leave me alone, so me and my stick sauntered on to the backyard. Upon my arrival, I spotted B.R., and he spotted me. I froze in terror, holding my stick by my side. B.R. froze, too, but there was no terror in those beady eyes. I took one look at that challenging piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken, dropped ‘the stick’, and took off running for dear life! Backyard Rooster took off right behind me. I ran as fast as my little legs could go toward the family car, with every intention of jumping up on the back end, and had just about made it when I got ‘the spur’.

So, I guess the moral of this story is, it isn’t about the size of the stick, but rather, who carries it.