Can You Hear Our Voices?
The Pentimenti Women's Writing Group
About Us
We are a group of writers based in Dorchester, Massachusetts.
In art history, pentimenti are painted-over images which reappear once the surface layer begins to fade. These ghostly images tell a story about the artist's evolving thought process.
We as writers mine our pasts, imaginations, and experiences to uncover our own pentimenti, the images that we paint over and hide but which eventually resurface one way or another. We come from different places and generations, but share a belief in the power of writing to challenge, heal, delight, and inspire.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Pentimenti Affirmations for Writers
With the start of a new year comes a chance to pause and reflect on where we've been and where we're going. Over the past year, the Pentimenti Women have been compiling a list of affirmations: things we find ourselves repeating to each other over and over. Writing is hard work - finding the time, reliving emotional experiences, facing self-doubt, quieting the voices in each of us that tell us what we have to say is no good. When those voices start to get too loud for us to write on, we repeat the affirmations below. Together they form a sort of Pentimenti Manifesto.
1. Don't worry if it's right. Just write!
2. Listen to the silence - pay attention to your speaking silent voice.
3. You are the author. You decide.
4. Let yourself feel the joy, but also remember that writing takes time. Give yourself that time.
5. Asking questions helps you open up.
6. Rewrites are not desecrations.
Other writers out there, leave a comment to let us know what affirmations help you put pen to paper when the going gets tough. Happy 2013 to all!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
This Thing Called Love
What is this thing called love? Is it the best thing that ever happens like Gladys Knight and the Pips say, or is it like a cool breeze that brushes across your face?
Perhaps love is that thing that causes one not to be too proud to beg - or is loving you easy because you’re beautiful?
What is this thing called love? Is it the color of amethyst or black diamonds and pearls? Does it taste like sweet chocolate and cream? It is a love jones? Is it the feel of your hand on the small of my back? Like the sound of your voice. Is it like when I argue just to hear you speak? Is it the sweetest thing I’ve known? Perhaps it’s that thing that Stephanie sang about? Sweet Sensation, or is it Fire and Desire? Is it Ooo La la la? Is it simply giving you something you can feel?
What is this thing called love? Is it like a black butterfly, soaring across the waters? Is it the thing that causes life to have direction now and a clear point of view? Is it that thing makes it easy because you love me, baby?
What is this thing called love? Is a secret rendezvous? It showed up during a time when nobody is supposed to be here. I tried that love thang, for the last time I said. So here it is. What is this thing called love? How did it get here? Am I trapped by this thing called love?
March 31, 2012
(Excerpt from ‘Beautiful Black’)
Trinidad
The rhythmic sound of a nation, black faces, red faces, white faces. A melting pot. The center of the earth. The gathering place for many.
The rhythmic sound of a nation, dialects, slang, secretly coded messages that make up the fabric of the people.
The sound of the music. The beat, the pounding of the drums. The piercing sound of the horns almost becomes deafening. The rhythmic sound of a nation. The sound of the horns, the chatter, clang, bang, bang!!! Such noise from the disquiet in the soul of the fabric of a nation.
The hustle, the bustle, smells of spices, urine, people sleeping in the streets. The scream of a nation.
The sudden quiet that overcomes the rhythmic sound of a nation. Another day passed, another day experienced.
Tomorrow comes again. The rhythm continues. The rhythm continues, the rhythm continues.
(March 24, 2012)
(Excerpt from ‘Beautiful Black’)
Wonderful ME!
who am i that i should think
that i should be
or even smile
what gives me the right
to dance and twirl
to dip my hip
to feel the sensuous beat
to see the sunlight skip across the dawn
who am i that i should think
that i should be
or even smile
what gives me the right
to sing and crescendo
and sound like crystal
who am i that i should think
that i should be
or even smile
what gives me the right
to lift my eyes
and spread my arms to embrace myself
who am i?
i am just me
wonderful me, flawed though i may be
i have the right to be just me
Selah!
(March 2011 - Excerpt from ‘This is Me’)
The Power of Three
They belong together, love in its purest form.
Three bodies born in the same sweet nectar
fearfully and wonderfully made
moving to soundless music, music in the key of joy.
Songs sung, a chorus of the days beginning and end
Magic made in the sharing
They belong together, love in its purest form
vivid in the color of mirth, laughter creating a thin place where
Past touches present exploding into the future.
Whispers of thankfulness, petitions of forgiveness are sent
To hope that embraces faith while greeting serenity.
Familiar souls wrapped in spirit stand guard
chasing pain into the abyss bringing light to hope
embracing faith while greeting serenity.
They belong together, love in its purest form
Small hands as warm as love, as safe as prayer
Creamy nutmeg, café au lait, milk-doused caramel
Gentle as untwisted soft silk carried from the
Flowery Kingdom to where home fires burn
They belong together, love in its purest form
Love dressed in its most brilliant hue
Three hearts beat happily
The power of three
Monday, April 9, 2012
Survivor
I am a survivor, from the past, present, and future.
I am from the legacy of strong women, determined to move
(from the outhouse to the big house).
I am from faith gained and nurtured dreams that soar like eagles.
I am from the name that means Rock, strong, unmovable, and unshakable.
I am a survivor
Life’s pains have caused me to ask a few questions, like:
“Who am I? Why am I here?”
Does my color define me?
Does my size cause me to be ignored?
Does my womanhood, strength, and determination offend thee?
I am the one who has walked quiet.
I am the one who has been forced to be invisible.
Forced to hold my peace.
Forced to suppress who I am and want to be so others could rise.
I am a survivor
The time has come for me to make a difference!
To rise up!
Be counted!
Be respected!
To silence the noise of the past and move ahead!
I am a survivor
In this season all misunderstandings will work themselves out.
In this season I will birth out the stored creativity that has been locked within me.
In this season I will forgive myself of mistakes, mishaps, and failures that will one day turn to successes.
Life is not a dress rehearsal; I must ask my self, “How will history remember me?”
I will leave a legacy of faith, strength and determination.
I am a survivor
Shattered dreams (like a glass broken into tiny pieces).
Divorce, “felt like a hot knife cutting through butter” but the river of living
water has come to put me back together again.I am from the legacy of strong women, determined to move
(from the outhouse to the big house).
I am from faith gained and nurtured dreams that soar like eagles.
I am from the name that means Rock, strong, unmovable, and unshakable.
I am a survivor
Life’s pains have caused me to ask a few questions, like:
“Who am I? Why am I here?”
Does my color define me?
Does my size cause me to be ignored?
Does my womanhood, strength, and determination offend thee?
I am the one who has walked quiet.
I am the one who has been forced to be invisible.
Forced to hold my peace.
Forced to suppress who I am and want to be so others could rise.
I am a survivor
The time has come for me to make a difference!
To rise up!
Be counted!
Be respected!
To silence the noise of the past and move ahead!
I am a survivor
In this season all misunderstandings will work themselves out.
In this season I will birth out the stored creativity that has been locked within me.
In this season I will forgive myself of mistakes, mishaps, and failures that will one day turn to successes.
Life is not a dress rehearsal; I must ask my self, “How will history remember me?”
I will leave a legacy of faith, strength and determination.
I am a survivor
Shattered dreams (like a glass broken into tiny pieces).
Divorce, “felt like a hot knife cutting through butter” but the river of living
Single, how will I raise my children so they will be a beautiful portrait and walk colorful in their gifts?
Cancer, stealing life from my brother and mother, “the foundation is gone who will lead the way?”
Lost, lonely but not alone.
Sad...
But I am a survivor
Emotions blowing around like a leaf in the wind.
I know now that I will have to:
Laugh because it’s good medicine.
Find Joy because it’s my strength.
Run to peace for it will sustain me.
When weak, God will make me strong.
When alone (God will not leave or forsake me).
When broke (I will give).
When troubled (I will pray).
When lost (God will guide me)
Weeping may endure for a night but joy will come in the morning.
It is morning time!!!
It is morning time!!!
It is my morning time!!!
It may feel and look like I am on the bottom, but I’m coming up real soon!
Because I am a survivor
I am the one who pain tried to silence.
I am the one whose troubles tried to kill.
I am the one where life almost lost its meaning.
I am the one who never fit because I was not white enough, not rich enough, not smart enough, not beautiful enough, not small enough.
I am the one whose voice will silence the pain; For me first, my children and then for others.
I am the one who stands before you now...
No longer broken...
BUT A SURVIVOR
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