King of Blue

Original painting by Mary Grace van der Kroef, on 8″ by 8″ canvas board.

In the early morning gray,
I see you.
In the trees that shed their leaves,
I see you.
King of birds of blue.

You’re a brightness in the morn,
clouds are filling up with scorn.
As bits of white fall,
you’re the brightest blink of all.

Heaviness is falling down.
Let it fall.
Building on the pointed posts.
Let it fall.
You’re still a king through it all.

Blue because of shifting light,
magnificent through winter white.
Unafraid to face the chill,
that amplifies your royal thrill.

Don’t fly away my Kind of blue.
I’ll look for you.
For the frozen months, remain.
I’ll look for you.
Jay of Blue, my morning view.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Six Word Stories (4)

The words I write every day are so often about how I am feeling in the moment. Sometimes I feel strong, sometimes I feel vulnerable, sometimes I am unsure what I am feeling.

I try to understand all my emotions and cherish them.

Weather I am happy or sad, the ability to feel at all is a gift I am thankful for.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Photos sourced from Unsplash.ca

I Chose To Keep Creativity Alive

My kids were watching Brain Child the other day. The show was talking about creativity. I caught the part about how as you age you can lose it. “Now don’t you feel bad for your Mom and Dad?” I asked. They answered with a resounding, “YES!”

It’s true that “adulting” is not always conducive to living a creative life. It can drain us of our energy. Bills to pay, responsibilities to take care of, expectations to live up to.

Later, I was still thinking about it. I asked myself, “so what are you going to do about it?” It’s my creativity, it’s my job to make sure I don’t let it die.

See, I know what it is like to go for years, unable to create. Do you? Those were painful years. My head was in a terrible place. I stayed there way too long. I hadn’t written or drawn anything for years. Then a friend invited me to a paint night at a local artist’s gallery. I can never thank that friend enough. The joy I experienced that night while pushing paint around on a canvas was painful. I was like a dead thing coming back to life.

I loved it so much I asked all my sisters and closest friends to go with me again for my birthday. The night we went I was exhausted, cranky, and had a migraine. When I left I felt alive. My headache gone. Now the weeks and months I don’t get to paint regularly, I feel the activities absence. It becomes an ache inside of me.

Every human being is capable of creativity. Not only capable, but it is part of what makes us human. I believe creativity lives inside of YOU. Do you?

After finding my love of painting, suddenly the words inside of me came back to life. I have been writing like a mad woman ever since. Creativity lights the human spirit. It gives us wings. When we feed it, it grows and multiplies.

In the middle of a global pandemic, the entire world is tired, lonely, and stressed. I want to encourage you to be creative. If you don’t think your creative, your wrong. Get out the paper and crayons. Or maybe going for a walk outside and collecting leaves to make a collage is more your style. Go to the beach and make pictures in the sand. Do you live somewhere, where winter is blowing in like I do? Get or make a zen garden to play with. Make a snowman or crochet a scarf. There are so many ways to let your creativity shine.

Do you know what my favourite part of being creative is? It’s the part where it’s okay to be terrible at what you’re doing. Being good at it really doesn’t matter. It’s the doing that’s important.

So today or tomorrow make something. Then come back and tell me about it. I want to know what you did. Let’s stay creative together, and in doing so, let’s shine on this lonely earth.

When we are creative, I believe we are walking in God’s footsteps. I believe whether or not you share my faith, you where created in the image of God, the very essence of creativity. I can feel his presence when I create. Can you?

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Photo by Dragos Gontariu on Unsplash

Six Word Stories (3)

A collection of six word stories.

Fog might obscure our path from time to time, but I am choosing to remember the path is still there and won’t move.

Not only that, but mist is proof of the moisture that hangs in the air. The proof of life giving water. Proof of the cycle that water takes from lake to atmosphere and back again.

Freedom to make that choice is the key, isn’t it? We are all giving ourselves to something or someone. May it ever be a free choice.

Photos sourced from unsplash.com

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Six Word Stories (2)

My second small collection of six word stories.

Sometimes I search for a photo to match the words rolling around in my head. Sometimes I see a picture first, and it speaks to me.

I am trying to teach myself to find words and emotions in places picture that do not always naturally speak to me.

What about you? Do you find words popping up as you look at these images? I would love to know what they are. Let me know by leaving a moment.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Photose sourced from unsplash.com

Searching

Infinite scroll
while you’re searching.
To fill the black hole
you’re searching.
She gave you a like
in friends, there’s a spike.
You’re searching.

“Time to have lunch?”
“No, I’m searching.”
“In a time crunch?”
“Ya, I’m searching.”
Not sure how to stop,
on comments eavesdrop,
while you’re searching.

Are you numb to the loss
while you’re searching?
It comes with a cost,
all this searching.
The people out there
could never compare
to the ones who still wait,
while you’re searching…

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Six Word Stories (1)

I find briefness powerful, yet elusive. In the last few weeks, I have taken to trying to cultivate it in my own work by writing six word stories.

It’s an exercise I am enjoying.

Do you write six word stories? Or some other kind if micro fiction?

What form of short prose do you find most impactful? I would love to know the answers to these questions, and what you think of the three I share with you today.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Photos sourced from unsplash.com

Mud River Monster

I have been finding it difficult to write this week. So I will share a blast from the past with you this morning. I wrote Mud River Monster in either 2009 or 2010, my notes are sketchy on the date I finished. It’s the first piece of any length I completed. Though I have been writing since I was fourteen, I have always had dreams of finishing large projects that never quite work. It was a blessing to be able to look back and see how much I have grown in the last 2 years since taking my writing more seriously. I hope you enjoy the fun read. (I grew up in a family with 8 children and my early inspiration is pulled from those memories.)

Mud River Monster

Jay was Lord.
Nea was Queen.
Over the bank of
Mud River they leaned.


Nea had her staff
Jay had his bow
but little May cried,
“I don’t want to go!”


She sat in the grass
jeans stained green
thinking her brother
and sister QUITE mean.


“But we can not beat him here!”
They said again, and again,
Then through the sparse leaves
HE began to descend.


A grey gunny sack was
thrown over his large head,
and eyes darted wildly as
he passed the flowerbed.


As he stepped off the deck
May jumped up with a shriek,
and cleared the Mud River
in one quick, desperate leap.


Jay and Nea now
hot on her tail
splashed through the water
their faces ghostly pale.


Then he began howling as
he raced through the garden,
and the children knew he
would give them no pardon.


They reached the tree line
on the opposite shore,
but he gained ground while through
some piled leaves he tore.

As he charged the mud river
Jay turned to ready his bow,
Eyes shining brightly as he
prepared to meet his foe.


Nea stood behind Jay
her staff held so tight.
May hid behind a tree
overcome by the sight.


Jay loosed an arrow;
it flew straight through the air
to land in the muck,
missing by a hair!


While the monster’s great boots
splashed onto the shore
Jay and Nea hurried
to retreat once more.


They grabbed little May’s hand
as they passed by her tree,
but in one step she tripped
and grazed her tender knee.

Her small tears sounded
so loud through the air,
while up puffed the monster;
OH it was so…SO unfair!


Nea knelt down, took
May in her arms,
then turned her back
to shield her from harm.


But as Jay fumbled
to reload his bow
the monster’s advance
had begun to slow.


He huffed a great sigh,
and sat with a loud thump,
on the cool moist dirt
before the tree clump.


“I’m tired and hungry.
Is it dinner time yet?
Oh little May I would
never hurt you, don’t fret.”


At the sound of his voice
Jay’s bow just vanished,
Nea’s staff became a stick
May’s tears were banished.


The grey gunny sack he
now pulled off his head,
and in that moment, Jay’s
cheeks turned a bright red.


“The game can’t be over
until the monster’s dead!”
Jay exclaimed as
reality spread.


The monster shrunk
right before their eyes,
to their own brother Jo,
no longer in disguise.


His pants were muddy,
his hair stuck on end,
with a runny nose
to sum up the trend.


“My boots are full of water,
my socks go squish when I walk.
I think it’s about time
we started a peace talk.”


Jo looked up at Jay
Jay then looked to Nae;
they weren’t quite sure
now what they should say.


“I guess the monster
doesn’t have to die.
We could always say he
turned in to an ally.


Oh, he was just chasing us
to warn of an Evil King…
Who wants Nea for,
his brand new queen!”


“Then we better run home.”
Nea jumped to her feet.
“I KNOW I won’t marry HIM.”
And she led the retreat.


Back down to Mud River
just a ditch and a stream,
and up through the garden.
They made quite a good team.


For on the way home they
had to battle a bear
that once soundly defeated
turned into a lawn chair.


Little May sighed as
they reached the front door.
“I DO like Jo better this way,
always running is such a bore.”


So the four went inside
where was spread.
They ate like Kings,
and that’s all to be said.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Present

How difficult to just be present,
live in the moment unrepentant.

Struggle to not look back or ahead,
but hold a single experience instead.

How difficult to turn off noise,
of a mind overwhelmed by toys.

Really hear the words you say,
have the desire to join your play.

Difficult, but impossible? Not,
when freedom is truly taught.

A conscious choice to carve out space,
from modern glitz, words that race.

A present self, a soul in place.
Let my mind be touched by grace.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020