| Georgia Mae's Homepage |
| Welcome, come sit down and read. Lose yourself in a world of my making. I am the writer. Upon the next few pages I hope that you can immerse yourself within my writing. I originally began these pages to showcase my poetry that focuses on The American Midwest, but as life influences our talents and our outlooks, my focus has become a varied thing. I have no theme or underlying consideration; I write solely for myself. Even so, I hope that you will enjoy some of it, and possibly think about it, or the message it may be attempting to convey, long after you have closed this link down and continued on your journey through life. Life is but a journey in which we find ourselves; be it in love, in peace, or in success. A few lucky souls have found all that they have sought during their journey, while the rest of us attempt to figure out what exactly is going on in our crazy lives. Every piece that I write is a step along in my journey, a step that I have felt compelled to share, to enlighten or comfort those who might be receptive. My thoughts, my efforts, and my feelings are in every word, so please do not disregard my writing. As I ask this of you, I shall return the favor. If you feel compelled to comment on what you have read, even if it is critical, I do hope that you will contact me. I am always open to interpretations and considerations of my writing, as long as it is done with an open mind. With that having been said, I do hope that you will read on and enjoy. Thank you. -----Georgia Mae C. |
| Always a prayer of thanksgiving, a smile upon a mother's lips...a child is but a dream destined to happen, a life more beautiful than you or I can imagine...it is the world through their eyes that I long to live in...a world of hope and delight...let us not forget that such a world is still there. |
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| You would dream a million dreams before finding a place such as this. It is the realization of a childhood dream of ice palaces with fanciful mists. An untrodden land in which to trace your travels; a white sea awaiting new paths to echo into history. Above the clouds, I found that sunrise was a sea of vivid dreams; wispy traces just beyond the seeking fingertip. The soft curve of fading clouds, looming pinnacles of forming storms - the ice queen of days long past has declared her fury. There's an undercurrent of dreams once fulfilled, flowing beneath the belly of this steel machine. Do the dreams truly linger at the horizon, beyond where the eagles dare to fly, or are they left upon the lips of your lover during your last goodbye kiss? We part the clouds as though we retain the right to alter this course where angels trod. Fleeting glimpses of the land so many miles below show outline tracings of a child's fingertip; the highways and byways we, as man, created in our infancy of urban development. An ebbing tide embraces us, strokes the wings in a lovers' caress with the dew of a morning kiss. The world soon falls away as we sink into an ivory abyss, jostled by the unseen hand that holds the fate of so many. Is it The Creator who blankets us so completely that our lives seem but a distant memory? Perhaps this is the reality. A dance with fate, a glimpse of former dreams and forgotten sunrises. Suddenly the sun is near, white shores fall away to reveal a dazzling blue ocean and the clouds dare not come quite so near again. An ivory sea soon beckons from beyond;we travel onward as the mammoth once did when the Ice Age created a vast temptation, much like this. Such untouched purity and endless moments. As my eyelashes flutter in sleep's embrace, I dream that I can share this fairytale land with you and sigh with true love's contentment. --Georgia Mae C. |
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| An excerpt from my chronically unfinished novel... Lightning flickered through dirty windows of a rundown trailer, illuminating papers scattered across rust-colored carpet. Page after page lay strewn from living room to bedroom, whispering with the slight wind of the storm through the open windows. Pictures, mere doodles to the untrained eye, fill each page; their ominous meaning known only to him. An old man sat on the couch, hunched over a semi-automatic rifle. An oil-spotted rag was pushed from barrel to clip, barrel to clip, until the metal shone from obsession with every flash of lightning through the windows. The man's white hair stood up in patches, nearly gray with grime, and a week's worth of stubble darkened his slackened jaw. His eyes stared out into the living room, haunted, waiting to catch a glimpse, a clue that the enemy had finally found him. Oil spotted trousers pulled tight over his knees as he fished a lighter from his pocket. Without looking away from the darkness he pulled a package of Reds out of his flannel. His hands trembled as he shook a cigarette out of the pack and three fell onto the floor. As he searched through the rubble his fingers grazed upon the worn edges of a photograph. Another flash of lightning revealed a black and white snapshot of the man with a beautiful woman, their arms around each other. Her wedding ring twinkled in the sunlight, her smile was radiant, and their smiles were of utter happiness. The man looked down at the picture and clenched his jaw in anger. A murderous gleam filled his eyes as he brought the picture to rest on top of the gun in his lap. With a deliberate flick of his wrist he sent the picture flying and resumed his search for his lost cigarettes. He found one and cinched his thin lips around the butt, then lit the end with a flick of the wheel. As smoke joined the stale haze over his head, his eyes turned back tot he darkness of the shadows, waiting for the tell-tale sign. His mind drifted back to the picture and he pulled the gun tightly to his chest. She had been so happy back then, and yet, after thirty years, she had walked out without a single look back. He sat forward, suddenly obsessed with the darkness outside the windows. He released the safety and waited for the enemy to make their way inside. As the storm laced through the night he waited, the image of his wife's face mixing with that of the enemy...georgia mae c. |
| I have found you in my dreams with whispers soft upon my skin, your words as strong and tender as a lover's hand would be. I am vulnerable to you as I speak my most personal thoughts to you alone. I feel compelled to share with you all of the things that have made me... me. Only a teenager should be so flushed, breathing fast closing eyes to savor that moment when the world pauses for two hearts to meet. How could this happen to me when the blush of youth has long since faded? I only know that I long for you, not in a fleeting way but in a yearning to share our souls, our dreams. So I will bite back my sigh and lay back down, for I will sleep however long it takes to find you in my dreams again. --georgia mae c |
| Your fists didn't leave the scars that I cannot heal but you succeeded in tearing apart my heart and my spirit, in taking the innocence of first love and shattering every girlhood dream of love and happiness. Everyone deserves a happy ending and a fairy tale, but your happy ending took a toll on mine. How could you kiss me one moment and strike me the next, how could you be happy only when I was destroyed, laying at your feet? Your legacy was one of fear- that you would find me, shadows contain nightmares, and that I will never give my heart fully to anyone again. You were stronger than you thought, I guess. |
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