Voyage Denver Interview

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Hey everyone,

Check out my first interview with Voyage Denver and leave a comment below, and please share. Love and light, Trish.

http://voyagedenver.com/interview/meet-patricia-l-meek-patricia-l-meek-writer-teacher-therapist-alamosa/

Pink Moon by Patricia L. Meek

Dialogue with Georgia O’Keeffe II: Ghost Ranch: has been accepted into the 20th Annual Santa Fe Film Festival

New Publication in The Paragon Journal. “Dialogue with Georgia O’Keeffe II :Ghost Ranch,” by Patricia L. Meek

Please follow the link below to read my poem, “Ghost Ranch.”

“Canyon Road Santa Fe.” Photo Credit: Patricia L. Meek, 2018.

https://www.theparagonjournal.com/current-issue

 

 

 

 

New Poetry Publication: Practicing in The Slag Review.

 

Practicing

by Patricia L. Meek

Let the lazy take you where it wants because you never know.

-Shaman Jim |

Widen your eyes as if in dying,

as if in death.

Surrender

your struggle

like the newborn

seal surrenders its first

hours to the blinding

tundra,

freeze,

and arctic light.

READ THE REST OF THE POEM BY FOLLOWING THE LINK TO SLAG REVIEW CURRENT ISSUE 10.

https://slagreview.com/2019/01/02/practicing/

 

 

 

Photo by Patricia L. Meek, 2018.

 

 

 

2018 Shortlists Congratulations to all the finalists! This is the list of the year – below are the films that will be screened at Rabbit Heart Poetry Film Festival 2018.

https://doublebunnypress.com/2018-shortlists/

Honored that my video poem, “Dialogue with Georgia O’ Keeffe I: Chimney Rock” will be screened at Rabbit Heart Poetry Film Festival. Thank You, Rabbit Heart!!

“Rabbit-heart-poetry-film-festival-reveals-competition-nominees”

Chimney Rock: Dialogue with Georgia O’Keeffe I written by Patricia L. Meek and produced by Jack Rabbit Hollow productions has made another year of being long-listed. Thank you, Rabbit Heart!!!   Please read the announcement below.

http://www.telegram.com/entertainmentlife/20180906/rabbit-heart-poetry-film-festival-reveals-competition-nominees

 

 

photo credit: Patricia L Meek, 2018

 

 

My new short story release: Hot Springs. Published by CSU SAN BERNARDINO’S Ghost Town Literary Magazine.

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http://ghosttownlitmag.com/patriciameek

HOT SPRINGS

Mary Ellen Stahl sat in the back of the old Lincoln, watching the silver Airstream follow behind, quietly pounding her chest so her grandparents wouldn’t hear the sound over the country music station. Of course, they’d already discovered her secret. It was the reason they’d decided to take the long trip from Pine Grove, Texas, to Hot Springs, South Dakota, to cure what they called an infliction with the healing powers of the water there.

The day after Mary Ellen had turned thirteen, she decided she would not grow breasts. Like many of her past birthdays, she celebrated by blowing out the multicolored candles on her frosted cake and by opening her gift. This year, she’d gotten a blue sweater, dotted with tiny rosebuds; “perfect for church” was what Grandmother Kay had said. The next morning while she was still lying in bed, she looked at the sweater draped over the chair and thought about the present her mother would have picked. If it had been a sweater, her mother would have picked red—something tight and fuzzy. She would have said something like: “The more plush, the better to hug,” or “Little Miss Mary, you just wait. You’ll have those boys admiring that figure of yours before too long.”

Mary Ellen was what her mother had affectionately called a late bloomer. Only recently had she noticed that her chest, which had been as flat as a boy’s, was beginning to grow, forming what looked like robin’s eggs. Mary Ellen had stared at the sweater, a size too big, when she imagined the rosebuds forming into a pattern, then swirling into a pool of colors. She’d cried then, and a few minutes later, she’d made a fist and brought it squarely down on her chest, hoping that her shells would crack. Although she knew there wasn’t much hope, she’d imagined that with time, and a little patience and determination, she could retard the growth and—with a little luck—avoid puberty.

Mary Ellen struck herself again and looked over at the front seat. She had to make sure that she would not be discovered. She knew all too well her grandparents’ response.

NEW POETRY VIDEO RELEASE: Dialogue with Georgia O’Keeffe I: Chimney Rock.

Video

NEW POETRY PUBLICATION: “UP FROM SMALL”

UP FROM SMALL
by Patricia L. Meek

For Emily Carr

I was born enlarged,
more complete
than my polite culture
could contain.

In order to survive,
I consented to fit
into a teacup.

I dwelled in that dark,
as small as I could
for one having such an ancient heart—
a mighty drum, drum.

Night Creatures @ euphonyjournal.org

https://euphonyjournal.org/2018/02/18/fiction-night-creatures-by-patricia-meek/

We’re parked in the middle of a snow-packed lane where treetops threaten telephone lines. Branches on both sides of the truck are knuckle-twisted and braided in ice. The headlights cushion my father’s draped body, but somewhere down the dark road, light, trees, and wire disappear. It’s midnight and Dad is taking pictures. He’s buried under a darkcloth as if that were enough to keep him warm.

Mom keeps track of time, and worries. The Ford pickup has gone dead before, so she hastily looks over to the dash as the light dims, then revives—bright, yellow, and safe. This is Utah and it’s cold in winter, especially winter at midnight. Even I know how fast a person can die from exposure and I’m just a kid. The heater doesn’t work so well, and the passenger side window has a crack in the glass, big enough to hear the mournful wind whistle. I am mostly warm except for my feet—which I’ve given up on—and my face, which I can sink into Mom’s lap anytime. She is not patient and firmly presses my shoulder back toward the seat so I’ll go to sleep. I get bored, pop up. She warns me with a clamped-jaw sigh, an airy whistle from her nose, and I lie down to be good. I stare at the pedals, which I know are dirty from my father’s boot. I am restless and can’t help myself: Pop-goes-the-weasel.

Follow the link above to continue reading.