Showing posts from November, 2013

The Last Hour: A Poem


The last hour begins to near, Coming so quick and fast. Just when it’s beginning, Soon it is the last.
The blare of the alarm clock; Light breaking the windowsill. Slowly begins to weaken A strong and determined will.
The shoes and coat go on. A glass of water to drink. The suitcase by the door; An aching heart starts to sink.
Fighting tears, a hug is now, And strength starts to cower. As the door closes behind him, Tears fall in the last hour.

Written: by Renee Blare, Winter 1989 In dedication to my husband, James.
History of Poem:
     This poem was written in the early days of our marriage. My husband worked out of town. In the winter, we saw each other every other weekend for eighteen hours. He came home to wash his clothes, sleep, and pack again. Oh, and see me!

     We lived in Casper. James worked in Green River and Laramie. He went to class in Sundance on the other weekend as a part of his apprenticeship program. If he had time, he’d pop in and …

Pen to the Page: Advice

Rev 21:4 “And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”
The future…opportunity for the taking…or is it? A little hard for these weary eyes to see, at least at this particular moment in time. Sorry to sound so melancholy, but really…do you blame me? I strive each day to put my pen to the page. Sometimes, it feels like a losing battle. The people around me grow by leaps and bounds while I struggle every step of the way. When I ask for guidance, I’m offered well-intentioned but vague notions or advice. Such things as “keep writing,” “don’t give up,” or “find your voice.” Important for a writer? Yes. Constructive? I love to write so “giving up” or “not writing” aren’t options for me. I’d do it even if I wasn’t pursuing publication. As far as my “voice,” I’ve noticed one thing about breaking into the scene, and this may get me into tro…


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