D.M. Denton's Blog, page 34

To Give Hearts Ease

Copyright 2013 by DM Denton

Look up, look down

for what is found

to ease the cares

and catch the tears:

little pansy,

Mary’s mourning

gave you color

but left you pure;

or, if you please,

to give hearts ease

like fairies dance

Copyright 2012 DM Denton

upon the sense

that renewal

is hope’s pupil.

Writer’s note: The violet/spring fairy in the center image at the top of the poem is one I have left from a series I made in the early 90′s.

Writer’s apology: To the blogs I follow – please accept my apologies for being behind on your posts. I just started a new ‘day’ job and am on the last stretch of the sequel I am writing to my novel, A House Near Luccoli (for which marketing endeavors take up a lot of my time, too). I know I am missing some wonderful writing, artwork, photography, and more, and hope to catch up as I can. Blessings to all.

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton . Thank you.

Historical Novelists’ 4 Day Book Fair April 12 – 15

Welcome to my ‘table’ at the

and to
A House Near Luccoli

A House Near Luccoli focuses on chance encounters, beautiful music, and the paradox of genius through an imagined intimacy with one of the most legendary and undervalued figures of Italian Baroque music.
Published by All Things That Matter Press
Available at
Amazon.com
Barnesandnoble.com
in Paperback, Kindle, and NOOK Book editions.
Soon to be released as an audio book!

Over three years since the charismatic composer, violinist and singer Alessandro Stradella (1639 – 1682) sought refuge in the palaces and twisted alleys of Genoa, royally welcomed despite the alleged scandals and even crimes that forced him to flee from Rome, Venice, and Turin, his professional and personal life have begun to unravel again. He is offered, by the very man he is rumored to have wronged, a respectable if slightly shabby apartment and yet another chance to redeem his character and career. He moves in to the curiosity and consternation of his caretakers, also tenants, three women whose reputations are of concern only to themselves.
Donatella, still unmarried in her mid-thirties, is plainly irrelevant. Yet, like the city she lives in, there are hidden longings in her, propriety the rule, not cure, for what ails her. She cares more for her bedridden grandmother and cats than overbearing aunt, keeping house and tending to a small garden, painting flowers and waxing poetic in her journal.
At first, she in awe of and certain she will have little to do with Stradella. Slowly, his ego, playfulness, need of a copyist and camouflage involve her in an inspired and insidious world, exciting and heartbreaking as she is enlarged by his magnanimity and reduced by his missteps, forging a friendship that challenges how far she will go.

Excerpt from A House Near Luccoli:

It was a Sunday morning when she tried to return the folder with the copy included. Golone wouldn’t have it, leaving the house in a hurry.  She might take advantage of Nubesta’s day off, as well, if Signor Stradella returned directly from whatever service his music attended while Despina napped after going to mass. Donatella trailed her aunt down small streets and across the square named for the closest church open to her faith even when she had none. For once she wished she wasn’t late. Santa Maria Maddalena was filled with music as sacred as its interior; a modest congregation settling amid its garlanded pillars and gilded moldings, nearer to heaven anticipated in the ceiling of the main altar. Her aunt looked for her to slide into their usual pew but Donatella’s skirt didn’t completely leave the aisle and she ignored a whispered objection more adamant as heads turned, putting herself forward as she never did except for communion.

It wasn’t her intention to be seen reverent in the ritual of silk and linen vestments and covers, golden chalice, paten and tall tapers, or kneeling nearer the graceful pain of the crucifixion, to be overheard less than fluent in echoes of Latin. She sat back and it was obvious why she was there: not for the usual madrigalists shielding the altar and taking direction from the pulpit, but an almost heretical performance in the small gilded gallery to her left, a stone rolled away, resurrection in the pleasured expression of strings and a man to whom every passion was necessary.

It wasn’t the place for bows except in prayer. Signor Stradella’s attention soon moved to the young lady by his side who had sung with sweetness, not strength.

On the way home one of the better houses was inviting. Despina sent her niece on, Donatella only minding the weight of her veil and skirt in the May shower that wasn’t unexpected either.

“Artemisia.”

She didn’t turn around.

By the time she hurried across the via Luccoli to face Saint George and the courage she lacked, the pavement was steaming and her resolve changing as quickly as the weather. Signor Stradella pushed the gate for her to go first, his rain-scented shrewdness surrounding her as he opened the front door.

“My aunt will be home soon.”

“Ah. We have a secret.” He slid his violin case from under his coat. At least they weren’t alone in the house, Cook singing without Despina there to mind, and Nonna calling. He tapped Donatella’s arm and asked how the assignment was coming along.

“It’s finished.”

“Bravissima. Let me see.”

“We could use the breakfast room.”

“Or less prudenza.”

Nonna just wanted to know she was back. “And Signore Stradella?”

“I haven’t seen him today.”

“I think you have.”

“Well, for a moment—”

“In the rain?”

“Oh. I should change.”

“No. You look as you must,” her grandmother smacked her lips, “caught off guard.”

Besides the folder of music, Donatella carried up a tray of limonata and anise cake, another of Nonna’s suggestions.

“At last.”

She smelled a candle burning, but it didn’t light the short hall. In the main room a window was open, with the settee moved closer to it, Signor Stradella a masterpiece resting there. One dark leg was stretched and falling over the back of the couch, a ruffled hand on its knee; the other bent to the floor and, even without stocking and shoe, appeared ready to walk away. He had also undressed to his shirt still buttoned high and wrinkled softly because it was made of the finest linen. A slight breeze blew his hair over his face. As he realized her burdened entrance, his right shoulder pillowed a half-smile and he reached out lazily.

“Did you bring bavareisa?”

“What’s that?” She clumsily laid the tray down on the gray marble hearth, not wanting to bend with her back to him.

“Cioccolata and caffè.”

“We don’t have coffee. It’s too expensive.”

“I’ll pay for it.” He swung into sitting, hunched and rubbing his neck. “I’m getting one of my headaches.”

“It’s the weather.” Donatella offered him a drink.

He accepted it, the tips of his fingers friendlier than they should have been. “A veil over the sun, like a woman at Messa.” He tasted it. “Ah. Fresco.”

“Squeezed this morning. Nonna says it’s good for clearing the voice.”

“Cara Nònna.” He raised his glass, then emptied it with a kiss on its rim. “I’ve heard she was very rebellious. I wonder you didn’t become the same.”

“I wasn’t meant to.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it didn’t happen.”

She was still holding the folder.

“I believe that’s why you’ve come?”

He moved slowly to make space on the table where his inventions were layered and sprawled, so many at once. By the time she placed the copy there he was sitting once more, leaning forward, his head in his hands.

“You can let me know.” She felt intrusive. “I’ve never seen you at Maddalena before.”

He rose, admitting his rudeness. “I was testing the sound for a wedding there.”

“It must be a special one.”

“Ah. I’ll make it so.” His teeth showed. “Così.” He leaned over the table, the side of his face long and angled, eyelashes still and mouth taut, the first page flipped for the second, the second for the third, every one after that as unremarkable.

“I’m untrained.”

He looked at the first page again, his index finger, chin, and muted hum following the stanzas. “Ah. You see. Just a little more space here and this note a little higher, the words not quite aligned.”

Her hope of impressing him was gone.

“No, no.” He showed sensitivity to being misunderstood. “Even my last copyist, a priest, cursed my sloppiness.”

“I did my best.”

“Ah. Anyway, there are many arie in the serenata, besides duetti and trii and sinfonie. I need copies of each by—you saw the date; barely a month away. Before that for rehearsal.” He closed the folder, falling back on the settee. “And only so-called musicisti in Genova, too quick or too slow or distracted by ambizione. Will you do more for me?”

She had to consider. His reputation. Her motivation. She couldn’t sign her name to the work, freely spend any payment, or even show some pride. Sneaking around, her aunt would eventually find out and put a stop to it anyway.

“Is that cake?”

“Yes.”

“For the flies?”

“Oh.” She rescued the plate.

He took a slice, eating it almost without chewing. “As we live dangerously opening windows.” He reached for another, nodding for her to take what was left.

“All right,” she answered.

“Bene allora.”

“I mean … I will help you.”

“Mangia.”

“Oh, yes.” She broke a corner of the last piece on the plate.

He got up to pour her a glass of limonata, staring as her lips, covered in crumbs, finally took a sip.

 

My Bio:
I am a native of Western New York State, where I currently reside. My writing life began as a child retreating into the stories and poems that came to me. Early on I developed an interest in history, especially European history, while myparticipation in and appreciation of music was encouraged through memories shared about my maternal grandmother, who was a concert pianist in Chicago in the 1920′s. Some of the most defining years of my adult life were while she was studying and living in rural England, in a yellow-stoned village with thatched cottages, a duck pond, and twelfth century church and abbey turned Jacobean manor house. In addition to writing, music, art, and cats, I am passionate about nurturing nature and a consciousness for a more compassionate, inclusive, and peaceful world.
A House Near Luccoli is my first published novel. I am currently working on a sequel set in late Restoration England, and have also published an illustrated poetry book, A Friendship with Flowers .
I recently did an interview with Unusual Historicals about the the writing of A House Near Luccoli and more.
I also invite you to visit my website: http://www.dmdenton-author-artist.com, where you can find more information on my publications, view her prose and poetry portfolio and artwork.
You can also find me on:
Facebook Twitter Goodreads Library Thing Pinterest Lulu Google Plus

Thank you to Francine Howarth for hosting this virtual book fair.

I encourage you to go to Romancing the Blog

where you will find links to the sites of all the other authors who are participating.
Have fun browsing the fair!

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton . Thank you.

Written in the Stars

A secret I kept

with the stars overhead

and a friend not a friend

who stole me from you;

for I would’ve gone on

sitting there on damp grass,

amid lightning bugs,

and hope in the night;

not drinking the wine,

but knowing it flowed.

Copyright 2013 by DM Denton

No secret it was

with the journeys I took

and a hope not a hope

that looked for each sign

as the music went on

and the show knew its end

of once-again love

unable to grow

by right of what was,

at last, only right.
That secret I keep

with you among the stars

and a heart not a heart

that begs me: forget

as, yet, I would go on

sitting there in your sight

with unspoken words

for stories to tell;

not meaning to lie,

just hiding the truth.

Written in the stars and, especially, for April 9, 2013
“Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow.”

― J.M. Barrie

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton . Thank you.

My Guest Spot on Unusual Historicals

Another post from me in record time! But I offer something I hope you will enjoy, including the chance for a giveaway copy of my novel, A House Near Luccoli!
Last week and this I have been featured on Unusual Historicals, a blog which regularly showcases historical fiction authors who ‘brave the wilds of unusual settings and

times to create distinctive, exciting novels just outside of the mainstream.’
On Thursday, the site featured a blurb about my novel as well as an excerpt – one that I haven’t posted before: Excerpt Thursday: A House Near Luccoli by DM Denton
Today, Unusual Historicals features an interview with me regarding the novel and more.  Thanks to Lauren Scott, Christine Moran, Ina Schroders-Zeeders, Kim Zollman Rendfeld, Angela Nevitt, and M.M. Bennett for their excellent questions.
Drawn from among them, the winner of a free Kindle or NOOK Book copy of the novel is M.M. Bennett!
There’s another opportunity to win a free copy (in whatever format – Paperback, Kindle or NOOK Book edition - that works best for you). But you must visit Unusual Historicals and leave a comment (brief or otherwise) on the post containing my interview (remember, e-books can be given as gifts!). While you are there, check out other guest author posts. It’s a great site!

Unusual Historicals Q & A with DM Denton:

When and how were you first introduced to Alessandro Stradella?

I first heard Stradella’s story and—knowingly—his music while driving to work in 2002 and listening to a Canadian classical music radio station show called In the Shadows. By the time I arrived at work, I could only remember his first name! Don’t tell my former boss but as soon as my computer booted up I Googled composers named Alessandro, scrolling down all the entries for Scarlatti to finally find a few mentions of … Alessandro … Stradella!

In time I found out why Stradella—a celebrity in his time who produced a body of work that set him alongside the greatest Baroque masters—was, at best, a footnote in music history. Unfortunately, in the decades and centuries after his death, Stradella’s alluring ‘story’ took on an almost exclusively cloak-and-dagger slant in novels and operas, eclipsing his importance as a composer until his music was rarely performed. Only recently, thanks to a dedicated biographer and cataloger and some enlightened musicians, has that begun to change. In fact, I just discovered that Stradella’s “Sonata in D Major for Trumpet and Strings” was included in the soundtrack for the movie, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

How did your interest in Alessandro Stradella grow to the point of wanting to write about him?

From the first, I was drawn to him because of the contradiction between the discipline of his work and recklessness of his behavior. It evoked a special connection for me, for I had personally seen the potential of talent and purpose sabotaged by incautious, even self-destructive behavior. The more I learned about Stradella’s triumphs and failures, and all the hard work and missteps in-between, the more I became fascinated by a personality at once charming and creative, intelligent and indulgent, cultivated and itinerant—an adventurer who made a few messes but also many masterpieces along the way.

Finally, in the summer of 2005, I really met Stradella in the intimacy my imagination created: observing him behind the scenes in great and small ways, surrendering to his charisma, and enjoying his self-determination while exploring why he so often put his career and life at risk. I often thought how much easier it would have been if there were more details available about his appearance, personality and the events of his life, but I also realized his obscurity offered an opportunity to discover him in less public ways: through his letters, even his handwriting, and especially his music that knew the ‘rules’ but pushed the boundaries.

Is the house near Luccoli of the novel’s title an actual residence?

There is the possibility that the last place Stradella lived in Genoa was a house near the Luccoli district. The house was most likely owned by Guiseppe Maria Garibaldi, one of the Genoese noblemen who supported Stradella. I couldn’t find any specific details regarding this house—such as its exact location or whether it still existed—but for the purpose of the novel put it on the map and set to ‘building it’ based on what my research and imagination came up with. I knew from the beginning that I wanted to create a domestic setting for the meeting and developing relationship between Donatella, my fictional female protagonist, and Stradella; one that allowed the reader behind the scenes of his career and persona. The novel does, at times, escape such close quarters into the magnificence and mayhem of Genoa; but, I think, essentially remains an interior study of character and circumstance.

What surprised you the most in your research for the novel?

One of the most surprising things was discovering Genoa as a fascinating place and perfect setting for the story I wanted to write. Up until then I knew it as Christopher Columbus’ birthplace, otherwise—if most travelogues of Italy were anything to go by—for passing through on the way to somewhere else or avoiding altogether. La Superba (The Superb One) is a vertical city, back-dropped by the Apennine Mountains, surrounding a bay looking out past its famous Lanterna (lighthouse) and the Ligurian Sea towards the eastern Mediterranean. It has splendid churches, palaces and villas; but, also, in its medieval center, a labyrinth of narrow caruggi (alleyways) full of poverty, danger and sudden beautiful entrances to half-hidden palazzi. It is a conflicted place with, as Stradella’s chief biographer, Carolyn Gianturco, wrote, “a climate of public puritanism and private crime.” The novel is about human contradictions, too: Stradella’s, of course, but also Donatella’s. Genoa has been called “the most English city in Italy”, and so proved an apt location as Donatella is a ‘daughter’ of both countries. 

Were you tempted to write yourself into any of the characters?

I was more than tempted. I knew I was there from the opening lines, disguised and revealed in the character of Donatella. Like me, she is Italian and English, a writer and artist, gardener, companioned by cats, wrapped up in solitude, contradictions, moods, and memories, and addicted to music’s presence in her life. Certainly, I could understand her struggle with surrendering to Stradella’s charm, talent and impetuosity; how it felt to be amazed, flattered and bewildered by such an attraction; and that in the end so much and so little changed for her through knowing him. This was a very personal story for me to write. Even more so once it was published, life imitating art when Donatella’s quiet grief and onward journey became my reality, too.

How did you write about music and are you a musician yourself?

I knew the most important thing to do was listen—constantly listen, Stradella’s music a soundtrack to the conceptualizing, researching, and writing of the novel until I was living with and even haunted by it like an invisible presence. Of course, I did refer to academic sources, and the notes on CD sleeves were also a great help. I used some musical terminology as it offered imagery the poet in me found too lovely to resist!

I have played the piano, guitar and Celtic harp, and sung a little. The pleasure I find in trying to translate music into words might come from my regret at not having pursued a musical career. I suppose writing about music is another way of participating in it. I found it very satisfying. I never set out to try to imitate, explain or even describe music, but somehow convey its elusive existence in the heart and spirit.

This question makes me think of the 1991 French movie about the 17th century composers Marin Marais and Sainte-Colombe, Tous les Matin du Monde that asks: “What is music?” Sainte-Colombe insists words cannot describe it—that it is the sound of the wind, a painter’s brush, wine pouring into a cup, or just the tear on a cheek. I agree that it is impossible to express the essence or the effect of music in words, but I hope my readers experience something of its beauty and power through what I have written, especially as it is inexpressible.

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

How long did it take you to find a publisher for the novel, and what are you currently working on?

From completion to publication of A House Near Luccoli took about four years. Initially, I had submitted to literary agents for a year or so, but—perhaps sooner than I should have—gave up; except for creating a website which was eventually noticed by the novelist Mariana Julia Neary who was influential in my signing with All Things That Matter Press. My affiliation with this small publisher has proved to be one of the best things that has ever happened to me, not only because of their willingness to publish the novel, helping me to make it the best it could be while honoring its vision and voice even to the extent of using my own artwork and design for the cover; but also because of the dedication and ongoing patience and encouragement they extend to all their authors.

I am currently working on a sequel to A House Near Luccoli which I hope to have completed by late spring or early summer. I continue to write poetry and small prose pieces accompanied by artwork for my blog, and have just published an illustrated poetry journal entitled, A Friendship with Flowers.

A House Near Luccoli is available in Paperback and Kindle Edition at amazon.com and as a NOOK Book at barnesandnoble.com; soon to be an audio book.

Diane invites you to visit her website: http://www.dmdenton-author-artist.com/, where you can find more information on her publications, view her prose and poetry portfolio and artwork.

You can also find her on:
Facebook Twitter Goodreads Library Thing Pinterest Lulu Google+

Thank you for taking the time to read and hope you have put your word in over at Unusual Historicals for the giveaway!

 

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton . Thank you.

How to Handle Worry

Copyright 2013 by DM Denton

It’s snowing!

April fools!

Though I’m not fooling

and not fooled;

anymore than the budding daffodils,

or the growing grass,

or the crocuses

already full-grown,

closed for warmth

and, maybe, so they won’t worry.

Writing note: I tell a lie – it isn’t snowing today, but it was April 1st, so posting a few days late. Actually, today is lovely: songbird sunny and pleasantly expectant. Hope it is for you, too.

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton . Thank you.

Announcing A Birthday and Book Fair

Happy Birthday
Alessandro Stradella
extraordinary Baroque Composer
born April 3, 1639





Before her was a gracious creature, especially his hands composing in mid-air and eyes shifting slowly in observation and expression. His hair was an admission of the recklessness that got him in trouble, the vagrancy of his genius making him too accessible. Without music’s influence he might not wander like a prince among his subjects, although who could think that was all there was to him?
From A House Near Luccoli by DM Denton
Here are some more upcoming dates to note:
April 12 -15

My novel, A House Near Luccoli, published by All Things That Matter Press, will have ‘a table’ there. At this time 36 novelists have signed up to participate!

This book fair is graciously hosted by Francine Howarth at Romancing the Blog and is for authors and readers who ‘love stepping back in time’.  I encourage you to ‘attend’ between April 12th and 15th to tour the blogs of its participants.
If you are an author who would like to sign up, you can still do so on Francine’s blog.
You can be sure that I will be reminding everyone about this virtual book fair nearer the time. And watch this space for the winner - from among those who submitted excellent questions for my upcoming interview with Unusual Historicals - of a kindle or NOOK Book edition of my novel!
For now, let the celebrations begin!

“In the bay there was no limit to Genovese showing off, shared with every curious civilian like the sunset painting a backdrop to the parade shaping the porto out as far as the Lanterna and back to where most … weren’t welcomed aboard the hall of barges. The construction was at first as impressive as its company in silk and ornaments and flowers, soon too warm for fashionable wigs and not seaworthy for heels and top heavy trestles of food. Large layered skirts concealed the spread of feet, made-up faces masked any nausea while gloves refined the drinking and fanning that could have been seen as coarse and flirtatious. So it wasn’t just the floating hall that swayed the signori familiarly close to the belle signore they did and didn’t apologize to.

“The flat boats rocked, the guests wouldn’t be seated, and everyone and everything sweated. For one reason and another, the servers were frustrated and most attentive to swarms of flies landing on the festa. It was a ridiculous evening.

“ Then my musica began. A mixture of harmonious voices, poetry and fine instrumentalists,” Signor Stradella read from his palms, “a signor importante wrote.”

From A House Near Luccoli by DM Denton

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton . Thank you.

The Shepherdess – A Copy

I remember
 the silence
the solitude
the softness of lambs
looking for their mothers
the world
somewhere else
the youth
of my dreams
the peace in my heart.
 
I was not original
copying another’s vision
how was it wrong
to be so serene
as I learned
the technique
and satisfaction
of being an artist
long ago
and faraway
still within sight
every day.

I am breaking my ‘rule’ and posting this poem after writing it very spontaneously, very quickly. I wanted to post something for Easter to go along with this painting that I did many many years ago, that hangs in our living room. You may recognize it as a likeness of The Shepherdess (1866) by Johann Baptist Hofner. I used to copy other artists a lot in the ‘old’ days – it is a great way to develop, I think, like a lamb learning from its mother, all innocence and belief .

The Shepherdess by Johann Baptist Hofner

Blessings for Easter, Passover, and Spring!

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton . Thank you.

Repost: Wrestling with Love

Originally posted November 2011 (Just haven’t had time to come up with anything new … but hope you enjoy whether you have seen this one before or not.)

Wrestling with Love
The rug was a rink

in front of the fire,

its design hooked

in roses

and thorns;

each to a corner

fringed on desire,

hearts ready to fight

in poses

and throws.
The match was a show

of how they did play,

rolling and rolling

then pausing

to part;

back to their places

for rules to obey,

one not the other

fostering

the pact.


A blow from behind

turns trust on its head,

perverting the game

to cheating

for fun;

forgiveness is hard

her faith all but dead,

hope losing hope of

defeating

its fate.


Time is the stealer

of heartaches to face,

prospects laid to dust

in roses

and thorns;

more and less fondness

alive in each case,

the show going on

that closes

this thought.
 

Copyright 2011 by DM Denton

Writing note: This poem was inspired by two cats I brought from England in 1990. They were a year apart and cousins. They are, of course, long gone…but, equally of course, not forgotten. The younger gray one, Sophie, was very carefree as a kitten but grew into a self-centered even schizophrenic creature (she never forgave me for putting her on a plane). On the other hand, Heidi, the black and white one, was the loveliest most balanced spirit I’ve ever known, a soulmate for sure, my best friend and protector through difficult times (no doubt the trip from England to the US was traumatic for her too, but when she looked around her new home and saw my mom and me that was all she needed–home was truly where her heart was!). 

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

To Éire with Love

I know a few of you will remember these pieces, but I thought they were worth reposting because they reflect my experience of Ireland. Both were written on trips I made to Southern Ireland in the 1980′s. (There are also some allusions to a couple of traditional Irish folksongs…curious if anyone knows what they are) The ‘Iris’ painting was actually never quite finished. I decided to leave it so.

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

I traveled there a woman
and came back a child
with my eyes full of the clouds
coming over the mountains
so I could never tell
how high they were;
the rivers going on
forever,
the irises
floating down to the sea,
the fuchsias so wild,
but not really.
All along the way
cowslips lived
where meadows survived
and milkmaids didn’t mind
the rain
so sudden
as suddenly gone.

The fields were greener than any
in France
through the glass of our visit
going down to the sea,
everywhere surrounding,
only my heart brave enough
to go on
into the waves,
a lonesome boatman calling me
to come live with him
forever.
1983

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

This time the blackberries were ripening, seed pods cracking, rose hips shining in the sun blowing in and out of the sky. There was honeysuckle in the hedges, like the bloom in our cheeks as we rode along. And in the gorse and heather, again and at last. The moss was a carpet laid for our steps through a wood-and-wonder-land, dark oak, grey ash (red-berried too), silver birch and airy fern. And bluebells imagined, like a strawberry tree. Elsewhere there were mushrooms, surprising us like rabbits. While jackdaws were expected at the end of a shorter day, a silent peat fire making the night and reason we were together familiar.

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

We lived day to day; what else was there to do? Waking to the rain that misted our view. Though it was something to see the crows claiming a chimney. To warm their hearts? Or dry their wings? By the time we ate our pink bacon the mountains were rising again. So we took to the road that still sounded wet, passing the jaunters as they passed us sympathizing or gloating as we walked up another hill. Sometimes we abandoned our wheels for the slowness of our step. To stray. Even from each other. And meet like the waters where time stood. But not too still, the water boatmen as busy as we weren’t, a fat robin flirting nearer and nearer until flying away, the light always changing.
So much time. To do nothing. But eat cream cakes and salads and sandwiches. And look at the mountains surrounding us more noticeably than the sea. It seemed all the same, being in love with each other and the place; at the end of the day going the same way as the jaunters who couldn’t see us either as we climbed gates and crossed fields, trespassing where we felt welcome.
1985
And as a bonus, from St. Patrick’s ‘Breastplate’ Prayer:

I bind unto myself today

The virtues of the starlit heaven,

The glorious sun’s life-giving ray,

The whiteness of the moon at even,

The flashing of the lightning free,

The whirling wind’s tempestuous shocks,

The stable earth, the deep salt sea,

Around the old eternal rocks.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

What Would You Like to Know?

This post is a little different for me, but I am hoping some of you might be able to help.
Regarding my novel, A House Near Luccoli published by All Things That Matter Press: I will be doing an interview in early April for Unusual Historicals, a blog where historical authors brave the wilds of unusual settings and times to create distinctive, exciting novels just outside of the mainstream.
For those who don’t know, the novel imagines a fictional intimacy with one of the most legendary and yet obscure composers of the 17th century, Alessandro Stradella. Set in Genoa where Stradella seems to have made a new start after being involved in scandals that forced him to flee Rome, Venice and Turin, his professional and personal life have begun to unravel once more. The novel begins as he moves into a new apartment to the curiosity and consternation of its caretakers. At first, one of them, Donatella, is in awe of and certain she will have little to do with Stradella. Slowly, his ego, playfulness, need of a copyist and camouflage involve her in an inspired and insidious world, exciting and heartbreaking as she is enlarged by his magnanimity and reduced by his missteps, forging a friendship that challenges how far she will go.
Of course, if you have read the novel or are reading it, I would love to know what you would like to know about it.
Even if you haven’t read it, I would greatly appreciate any suggestions on the kind of questions you might like to ask an author about their work specifically or generally or otherwise. (You can read more about the novel at its page on my website.)

Just put any suggestions in a comment to this post. All those who do offer interview questions will go into a draw for a free Kindle or NOOK Book edition of the novel. (If you already have a copy, it would make a great gift!)
I look forward to your ideas! Thank you in advance.

PS: Likes, Ratings, and Reviews are always welcomed, whether on amazon.com, barnesandnoble, Goodreads, or all three – and don’t forget my Facebook Author Page! (I am always willing to return the favor.)

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton . Thank you.