where the writers are

Nancy Smith's Writings

"Fresh ink?" "Yeah, the souvenir of my trip," the youth said,   with a shy smile. "Very nice, truly cool." I meant it    (although tattoos are not my thing). Yet both of us have been ritually marked   --whether obvious or not,   by experiences in the land of the Maori.
       Summer haiku       crabgrass chelipeds reach for ankles on sidewalk             late summer     I usually leave my haiku untitled (in hopes that they speak for themselves), but I needed at least ten words to post.  Silly, isn't it? ...
asahi.com dated 3/16/2012
loss of family members with addition of new ones --lateral buds   This haiku came from the fact that although, one of the last remaining aunts died (I have only two from the generation of my parents remaining), but at about the same time, a grand-nephew was born to our family.  The family lives on...
Short Story
Red Room blogpost
Annie loved school and couldn’t wait for the new year to begin.  She was going to be a third grader, and taking the long walk up the stairs into the old part of the school.  At the door of the classroom was list of students and seating assignments. It was easy to find her seat. She was surrounded by old friends: Karen, Becky, the smartest girl in...
writing our way home blog site
a late snowfall after the ice cream stand opens spring ala mode
  Reduce, recycle, reuse, the bird, not celebrated,    (except in Hinkley) follows the premise.   Gliding, winging its way Clearing fields and highways- each spring returning  to winter's detritus.   Hulking forms tearing   at decaying flesh. ripping   from bones.   The reaper's shadow,   watches for death, gliding and soaring on thermals,...
Ohayo Haiku
     the soft white feathers    drift slowly down covering       the now silent earth    (in original 5-7-5 format )        soft white feathers drift slowly down covering            silent earth    (modified haiku from the Peace section of Ohayo Haiku)
Short Story
      Queen Anne's lace  remembrance of Grandma's         rhinestone brooch 
pumpkin pie still the best birthday cake
                             Come September   The sky's blue enough  to rival  a jay's   wing.   Trees greening  in the last  hurrah of  chlorophyll, Not yet eclipsed  by crimson, scarlet,    and gold.   Burgundy spears  of sumac  point in defiance,  not relinquishing   color.   More vibrant now,  the colors imprint on  the mind,  to stave off...