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New Episode of Wendy Says Things is Out Now

I’m talking about creativity, vulnerability, and living a fully realized creative life on this episode of Wendy Says Things!

Give it a listen, hit that like button, and share far and wide.

Thank you so much for supporting me, and for being patient while I’ve been settling into a new life after moving!

Listen Here!

I had this framed, and gave it to my college roommate, who I’m staying with for a while, and it’s hanging on a wall in her kitchen! (At least until I move into my new place :P)
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Pencils, Ink, and Pencils: Something Like A Story

Feverish, I had walked through the heat

Antibiotics to fight the battle within me

Waited for me at a counter

I had never been there

And walked passed the stairs

What kind of drugstore has an upstairs

The security person redirected me

I got my medicine and looked around

Finding readers

I took them downstairs with me

After looking to see in every corner

What I might need in the future

It’s within walking distance

Easy to get to

Easy to pass by there coming or going

From the campus, the park, the wherever

Security guy approached

You don’t want to buy those here

He said as I looked at the set of colored pencils

In a back corner

I worked security and loss prevention

I know what he’s thinking

It’s the middle of the work day

I have a visible tattoo and wild hair

And a feverish sheen

From the fever

I’m in a back corner holding a paper bag

With my prescription in it

And readers he thinks I can’t afford

After having moved swiftly through

Every high value (and low value) area

Of the store

He gently takes them from my hand

The readers

I walk with him away from the colored pencils

He is a hero saving the store from theft

In his mind

And he has in reality thwarted the sale of both the readers

And the colored pencils

I let him play out his story

“I thought they were like just $3.”

I tell him

I’m feverish, but not above a little fun

We walk back upstairs where he shows me

The prices

“I must have been looking at the strength and thought

it was the cost”

I tell him

Go to another store, he names a competitor

You can get them there for less

I wonder if his managers know he is throwing sales away

He will tell them he prevented theft

I leave frustrated with no readers

Which I need if I’m to go swimming with one of my friends

And wear my contacts

No colored pencils to shade in my drawings

Full of regret and longing but needing to rest

And take my medicine and cool off

My roommate dropped by there a few days later

What did you need here? she texted

I tell her where the colored pencils are in the store

She brings home a 3-pack of readers too

Because we both need them at times

My fever is gone

The pencils are treasured now

And that guy, he may never know

How close he was to something wonderful

Someone valuable

He may never know that things are not always

What they seem

That sometimes we need readers

To see clearly

Sooner rather than later

Even if the cost is a little more

Graphite pencil, ink, and colored pencils from the drugstore

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There’s a story in the rings

Of lean years

And times of plenty

Some years you get

And some years you give

You lose all your leaves In the winter of life

And struggle against the cold

Lonely dormancy

Small comfort

That blanket of snow

Then the days lengthen

The air fills with bird song

A rising raising warmth

Swelling buds

Sunshine intermixed with rain

Here comes the green of a full life

Here comes the flowers in their

Glorious colors

Flamboyant or shy

They decorate the earth

With hope

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Dream House

Why have you been visiting

To whom do you belong

You bring your partially shaded patio

With a view of that partially hidden path

Leading to a garden shed

You bring your comfy couch

The big long kitchen table

And overladen shelves of books

Into my dreams

Across the lazy curving road

A hill arises

Further up the road

Around a bend – is that a garden center

Or an arbor nursery

Why have you come

If not to provide me welcome

For a visit not yet invited

A recurring teasing glimpse

Of a place I might end up


A time of laughter among friends

With the sunlight pouring into

Windows made of dreams

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Coffee Shop Christmas

The night before Christmas

We were walking

The night before Christmas

We were talking

We were falling in love

Christmas Eve

The lights hung from eaves

In the crisp winter night

Balloon Santa played in the yards

The deer were all right with their

Noses alight

We held hands as we walked

Down the street

We stopped for a drink at the

Local café

Sometimes it still feels like a dream

We sat in a café

We talked in that café

We fell in love over coffee that night

Now when winter begins

And the snow starts to fall

And the neighborhood lights are displayed

We walk down the street

Recall the present we found in each other

That Christmas Eve

On that Christmas Eve

Having known one another for years

That magical night everything shifted

Our eyes met in a way unexpected

Essentially seeing a future together

Our hearts to each other we gifted

Our hearts from each other accepted

On a cold winter

Bright winter

Night Christmas Eve

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The Letters – Daily Poem 10/27/2020

Write me into being one word at a time

Ink my hair in curls and wisps shining in the evening light

Type me in a soft pink dress hanging just below the knee

With a layer of cotton and one of lace

Erase the shoes from my bare feet that I might feel the earth

Compose music of harp and flute

Played by faeries in the forest

Fill the tree limbs with letters green

Pen bark upon their trunks

Slide paragraphs like rapids down the river there

Punctuate the sounds of water running over rocks

Edit out the midges, mosquitos, and the like

Unfold this scene in details

How my eyes search for your face

When my smile shines at your approach

Wrap your arms about me

Fold me closer to you

We’ll dance out of the pages

We’ll fly and never land

We’re a dream the muses sent

We’re pilgrims on a quest

In the end we must conclude

The ink has dried

The type’s been set

The paper’s in the printing press

Send me out into the world

Hard booked or paperbacked

When you sign the copies for your fans

Allow that it’s for me they Stan