Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte

Everyday Inspiration Day One: Why Do I Write?

Writing is the joy and  purpose that putting life experience into words gives me. It happens when I go quiet and lose myself in the actions of the sky, trees, wind and small animals outside my window. It happens when I need to  tie up loose feelings from my own life experience. Experience is the key word.

I write from the perspective of a woman who will turn eighty in two months. I know what it is to have  felt the same way inside as long as I can remember. I know what it is to feel my body aging and live with limitations. Best of all I am discovering the unique joy of the changes I experience. I am changing and like a Janus face can look backward  and forward through a rainbow of experience arching through time from my early years to a still mysterious future.

When I started my blog I knew I could write.  I did not know I have been given the gift of writing poetry. I am a wordy person by nature and reducing my words to the seventeen syllables of a haiku gives me focus. I love to find just the perfect word and word field to express myself. I love writing poetry because at least in the Word Press world there are few rules about complete sentences. I love leaving spaces for readers to fill in with their sense of what my words mean in their lives.

I write because I have stories to pass down to my children and grandchildren. I write for the pleasure of remembering places I’ve been in my travels.

Writing makes me whole.






Autumn Blessing

Today I listened to the rain
Pouring green new energy and balm
Welcome spring of new ideas
Timeless gift to stir my muse.

Seeping deep into my soul
Water floods and lifts my art
Trickles with a gift of words
Fills the cracks, restores me.


Haiku: Crystal Ball Gazing

Today muse calls me
Stirs senses and memory
Words take on new life

Future time unspools
Writing stories uncertain
New author in charge


Writing 101- Composition Notes

Today the cool breeze of early autumn stirs the leaves on the big oak tree outside my window. It rained all day two days ago and I could see for the first time that leaves had fallen on the stones of the patio below. For now bright sun casts shadows on the desk beneath the window where a basket of bills to be paid and three house plants sit. The desk drawers serve to store file folders and personal business-related stuff.

The room I write in is the smaller bedroom of two in my apartment. Against one wall is a futon intended for guests whose main occupant is a little plush stuffed Eeyore who has been with me for a while. On the walls are a couple of framed diplomas, a wooden clock in the shape of Ohio that ticks away time, a picture in the shape of a turtle created from folded paper and a swing-arm lamp. On the wall opposite the futon, my desktop computer sits on a glass-topped table with my land-line telephone on one side and my printer on the other. A comfortable office chair completes the set. This is the stage setting for my writing. The minute I sit at my computer to write it dissolves and my writing process absorbs me.

Prompts and creative ideas come from Word Press, daily experiences and reflections, memories, out-of-the-blue lines for poems, what’s going on out my window, the newspaper. Inspiration reaches me at a feeling level. It is like a seed planted that I can trust will grow into writing when I sit down at my computer. Writing haiku I begin on paper to keep track of the allotted syllables. Everything else takes form as I type. This is where the magic happens. I have a general idea where I am going but that is often not where I end up. Words written remind me of other words and I follow the trail like breadcrumbs tossed out by my muse. I tinker and tweak until I like what is on the screen before me. It is a tiny aha! moment when I’m satisfied that I’ve translated my feelings and ideas into words. Besides my helpful muse, a mischievous genie lives in my computer. Sometimes when I’ve written something particularly long I strike a key I’m unaware of and all that I’ve written vanishes. I haven’t figured how to restore it. However, I don’t give up. Doggedly I begin again only this time I abbreviate my piece. The result usually turns out much better for the editing and I thank my genie for knowing when I’ve gone on too long.


Writing 101 – I Write Because- Once Upon a time

I once attended a conference in Ghana where I heard the saying “You don’t know where you are going. You don’t know how to get there. And somehow you arrive just the same.” This sounded like the pattern of my life in general. I adopted the saying as the theme for my blog Cronechronicler.

I began with a lifetime of stories ripe to be told, a love of words and having done a good bit of writing – though nothing like a blog. I write because words come from a wellspring inside me that has revealed itself – like a muse. A mysterious process gets things going. Primed by a Word Press prompt – or a memory, feelings of all kinds, the daily news, human interactions, changing seasons – words begin flowing. Often they need tweaking and I go off in a different direction. Writing poetry, a newly discovered and precious gift, is most likely to end up in a place I hadn’t considered when I began. That’s fun. Writing gives me joy and purpose. My days are incomplete without it. I intend to write only when I have something to say. I write as an end in itself.

I write to leave stories to my children and grandchildren to read someday when they are curious about who I am and to say that I love them. Also I write because of this community of bloggers who are like a global family to me. My life is infinitely richer coming to know them through posts and responses. It’s been over a year since I took Writing 101. I’m ready for new inspiration and making new blog friends.


Dungeon Prompt – Why do You Blog? A Gift Beyond Measure

It began Mother’s Day 2014.
One son suggested out of the blue
Why not blog? Just the thing for you
Collector of stories and a writer to boot.

Another son offered his gift to me
Put me in touch with his pre-teenage son
New WordPress blogger and ready to teach
Showed me the ropes and Cronechronicler was born.

The very first gift begat many more.
Writing 101 turned a golden key
Opened a well and a geyser poured forth
Words, stories, feelings filling up posts.

My third son was first to read and comment
Mom, you’re a writer – you’ve got good stuff
Just do your homework and you’ll make the grade.
Little did we four know where this would lead.

As I continued to write day by day
Words shaping images marched on the page
Meters the drumbeat gave old stories new form
Something else was afoot, a poet was born.

Mysterious gift heartfelt thanks I do owe
Seeds of words planted a lifetime ago
Blossoms exotic, some quite common-place
Given to me to abundantly share.

You ask why I blog?
Simple reply.
I write out of joy
Expect nothing less.

Written in response to Dungeon Prompt: Why Do You blog?


Haiku: To a Recalcitrant Muse

Mind mired deep in tasks
Entreats poetic license.
Set my fancy free!

Open wide the sluice.
Words spray out with rapid flow
To revive the soul.

Language has its way.
Poems and stories come to mind
For another day.


How My Blog Began

It was a Mother’s Day gift of sorts. One of my sons said, “Mom, since you have lots of stories to tell and you can write, why don’t you start a blog?” The idea set off a spark in me. Another son called to wish me Happy Mother’s Day. When I related the earlier conversation about a blog, he echoed his brother’s enthusiasm and passed the phone to his son, who had recently begun a blog of his own. My eleven year old grandson walked me through setting up my blog on Word Press. I wrote my first post about “wanting to become an original” and my third son contributed his Comment. It all began as a family affair – on Mother’s Day, of all days.

It did not turn out to be just your grandmother’s blog I’m happy to say, though Educating Grandma (in relation to my grandchildren) is one of my prime categories. I had no grand ideas but I did have a couple of stories that begged to be told and more waiting in the wings. I look back and recognize that one of my early posts holds the seeds of my writing today.

I was in California at a hotel overlooking a huge field where tulip bulbs had previously bloomed in a glory of flowers and colors. The field now lay fallow, and pregnant with a message for me. I sat on a balcony overlooking the field and breathed in its spirit. The brown field looked bare and yet held all that was necessary to produce something beautiful. The field had power to receive seeds and bulbs and nurture their inbuilt power to bloom. That is what my writing is to me. I am fallow in the later years of my life and need do nothing more than write. The stories are imbedded in my feelings and memories. The words follow from my stories and do their magic to shape my thoughts into communication. I’ve learned that poetry is a gift of mine long buried. I love the economy of poetry. I see how one word demands another to create the warp, while meter makes the words march along to weave the woof of poetry’s fabric.

When my blog began, I hadn’t formed an idea of where I would end up. Writing 101 is my foundation. I’ve learned what works and what doesn’t by reading other bloggers’ posts and by taking in their Comments to each other and to me. I’ve learned to take a different perspective on assignments when my experience doesn’t yield inspiration on the subject. I’ve gone from day to day. Sometimes I feel self confident and affirmed in my writing. Also I’ve had moments of wondering if I’m at the end of this adventure and then I can’t imagine where I’m headed. Always there appears a breakthrough to get me going again – in someone’s Comment to me, through an experience or interaction in the “real world” that provides a story for at least one more day, or when the Daily Prompt presents something that unlocks my creative flow. I’m learning to trust that my gift lives inside. And I trust the presence of this community of bloggers to fertilize my imagination with their gifts and amazing writings and photos.

My sons planted the seed of my blog. Their belief that I have stories to tell and can write is being borne out. That’s a solid beginning. However, that’s only the beginning. None of us could have known that for me writing is pure joy. I have uncovered a purpose in my life that has lain dormant for a very long time. Writing centers me and gives meaning to who I am.


View From the Bottom of the Sea

The sea’s a mystic thing,
From ancient time the mother of us all.
Her children sailed abroad to search new lands,
Braving waves, wild storms and thirst of deadly calms.
Becoming students of her ways,
Receiving wisdom – fee paid in full.

Once I knew living’s Sturm und Drang,
And passion’s steamy dream
By love inspired.
Three times held new-born sons in wonderous joy.
Watched as lessons learned they wandered off
Beginning age-old cycles of their own.

Surprised, I learned new cycles, too.
With hours and days to savor things
Remembered yet unplumbed in younger years,
Charmed gift of words revived.
I am transported to another realm
Where I can create life anew.

I had not thought that calm and comfort lived
In lines I write, and stories told, as I have heard.
The seas above are challenging and rough.
I sailed them once upon a time.
My home lies now beneath the waves on quiet ocean’s floor.
And words I write reflect the view from here.