Monday, October 27, 2014

~No limit kindness~ #Poem #Poetry


Judge me three times before Hephaestus
Judge me seven times before Aeglaeca
Judge me twenty one times before Abaddon
Many judgments hath unleashed upon my way
Great old voice reads the verdict out loud 
Alas! Does not generate the thinking
However, palm of hands execute the ruling
Until proven dirty, they're yet clean
Judge me thirty three times before Ravana
Judge me, treat me without mercy
For He the pure, above all evil gods
Forgive me seventy times seven
Unlimited I am!
© 2011 by _Patricia Etienne
All rights reserved

Monday, October 13, 2014

Ebola #EbolaPoem #Poetry #Poem


We are in a blind spot; we like to see across the veil. It seems like we are scrying for answers, but the sign is pointing nowhere. We sigh with magnitude of clueless. We all questioning… is pestilence at large? Halas! The puzzle remains broken on the board, while somewhere in Liberia is wiping off the map and the US nation is mourning by anxiety. Again… questions are flying like snow falling from a daunted sky. Considering “Bat soup” has been serving for ages in Liberia, which classifies Ebola as the convicted killer? Why now the incubation period is on the rise? Like an orchestrated pestilence, with no mercy on the human organs and tissues- that is killing by many. What will be the verdict eventually? How can we see from a bigger picture?
© 2014 by _Patricia Etienne
All rights reserved

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

On Writing #Writing #Revision

Revision is by far the golden stage in the writing process. The goal is to nip out parts that aren't connected and brings maximum effect.  

Sunday, August 24, 2014

On Writing #Writing

That’s the learning experience of it. Each time I write a new story, I find myself moving up the ladder. And from there, I’m able to trace my writing journey and identify my standard. With that being said  writing tool can be honed through recursive process, time and practice.

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Nurturing Bull #father'sdaypoem #poetry #happyfather'sday


As the Bull runs along the farm
Peace reigns over the barn
Privileged Bullock has no disarray on his pathway
Happy time is utterly meaningful
Sun rises like crystal diamond rock
Shadow dare not pause above horizon crest
The safe keeper works dusk till dawn
For his offspring to survive and succeed
As the Bull remains the theme of the piece
 And the puzzle keeps whole within the realm.




Friday, June 13, 2014

Paranormal/Supernatural/Thriller Writers #writing #onwriting


Today is Friday the 13th, considering a plethora of common superstitions that are connected with this day: Where all hell breaks loose, don’t circle around the electricity pole, wicked witches are parading on their brooms, shapeshifters could take your face to a crime spree, vampires are recruiting for their nest.  When the wind blows west and brings all the dark leaves to the east. Etc… Well, I’m planning to tackle on the rising action part of my story. (The Undercover of Darkness book 2)
 I feel it’s a day when your motivation juice can be on the rise; and ideas can swim down on the fictional lane.  Why not?  To all paranormal/supernatural/thriller writers, let’s sore this day with writing. As for me, I’m ready to bleed the words out of it with the tip of my pen. 
Happy writing all!!!



Monday, May 26, 2014

The cripple and The granted #multiplesclerosis #MS #poetry



All knit in the context of her own way.
The continuous unsatisfactory results
Whining, nagging about all
Nothing goes right by her.
~ ~
When she’s given gold, she rather have diamond
The stone is neither too big nor shine enough
Asking why the sun isn't shine enough.
Living in the illusion of her own fantasy
~ ~
She
 is born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
Yet, unable to taste a swell
 whipped cream
So miserable and self-center

She’s unable to spot life in one happy moment.
~ ~

At the entrance of the social club
 comes in a young woman in a wheelchair.
Breathtakingly beautiful with a cafe mocha complexion
All men in the alley are awestruck by her beauty.
~ ~
However, Multiple Sclerosis has crippled her down.
Nevertheless, her spirit, mind, and soul stay whole
laughing, joking, with no measure.
Certainly, a thrill of life appreciation
~ ~
This unappreciated being
Sitting on the other end witness it all.
Start to confront her own inner self
Now seeking within her soul.
~ ~
Questioning her inability to see the light
Then, she comes to realize her ungraciousness causes pain.
She found the conceivable answer.
And she's no longer taking life for granted.
© 2008 by _Patricia Etienne
All rights reserved.


Sunday, May 18, 2014

My great pride #poetry







O' this flag 
I live and walk under 
How my heart 
Eternally sings 
The song of bliss
When I watch it floats
High, so high
Below sky blue
Remembrance!
My brave ancestors…
Their nonpareil efforts
Vigorously fought for their country
So they did!
They so very did!
Breaking out of slavery
In vertieres 1803
Battle of freedom
And so independence was to initiate
In Venezuela, they sought for the cloth
Through heavy sea waves
Many perished at sea below
Brought on land the torn cloth
Lady Catherine Flon,
Heart of a great patriot
Heroine of forever time
With her last seed of strength
And through difficulties to greatness
She used strands of her hair as threads
to stitch the torn cloth.
So thought by
The Great Emperor
The disposition of colors and symbolization
Black for geographical parameters
Where sun rises and sets
Red for all blood shed
Which later changed to red and blue
Symbol of palm tree for endurance
Labor, devotion, freedom
With the motto “Unity is strength"
Floating flag
In the land of Haiti
On the account of victory!
So this flag continues to wave before my eyes
My heart pumps blood of joy
Each breath inhale, each breath a smile
I cherish my freedom.
I honor my ancestors.
My pride is all I have!

© 2009 by _Patricia Etienne
All rights reserved

Sunday, May 11, 2014

~* Love beyond the Limit*~ #happymother'sday #poetry





Repetitive nature of breathing
long hours of waiting
while labor is latent
It feels like a getaway with beautiful images
Wonder how it will look like
So unfortunate when the fully dilated cervix-
rises the pain level
Carries all imaginations to realness
Outrageous pain, almost unexplainable,
but associated with the consequences of women's sin
Nonetheless, the push, push
With many concerns:
Fear of fainting episodes,
Umbilical cord knots,
Bridge position,
and the sound of it cries-
eliminates the worry for a possible stillbirth.

Along arrives birth,
The glance at this little bundle
Amazingly, desensitized all the pain
An astonishing moment!
Begins the conjugation of love
The sense of pride
The glory mounts
The feeling of completeness
Nurture begins
Mother love
Unconditional that is
A story of dedication
A dazzling shield of light
Mother’s heart
Is as white as snow
Pure as always
Altruistic love, can't ever be doubted
Can't ever be questioned
The pearl below the deep blue sea
Mother love is beyond the limit.

© 2011 by _Patricia Etienne
All rights reserved

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Childhood #poetry





Always a pleasure,

never a dull moment,

yesterday pass quickly,

into a month, then to a year,

like a rose drifted away from its vase.

On the road of souvenirs,


the only place where we can get in touch.

There I get my ecstasy.

I have the excuse to be gullible.

The green light to see life in just black and white,

In the mirage, I see the old avocado tree.

I reach out to grab one,

and then stumble back to my adulthood. Merdum!!!

The sound of the carousel,

shifts me back to euphoria-

the land of no cross road.

Life is immaculately live dangerously.

No reason to think of doom day,

because it’s many years away,

as I gaze upon the sky,

suddenly, the mirage reappears.

Seeing the old house stands.

Grand-Mama is making sweet potato pie;

the allowance is on the table.

Sneaking in through the back door to join the crowds,

oh, my heart beats so hard.

The unstoppable boom-boom, boom-boom,

the swiftness of the blood flow,

swell up the joy of a perpetual reminiscence.

© 2009 by Patricia, Etienne
All right reserved

Thursday, April 24, 2014

On Writing #writing

Writing has its downhill moment-- upheavals in our life can cause poor concentration. It's a time when no ideas knock on the brain's membrane. And this temporary blanking out, completely occupies the frontal lobes area of the brain. Knowing the common rule for writers-- if you are not writing, then you must be reading at least. You can consider reading a new book from an author whom you admire and inspired by. That alone, can brainpower your low concentration, and put you right back on the writing scale.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

How I Met Writing #writing


How I met Writing
Inside each and every one of us have little voices that want to be heard. Depending on the level of our imagination, some of us choose to remain silent and others  bring their stories to life. As for me, the true meaning to being a writer is about making connection with words and writing stories that are generated from within the guts.  Real stories are strong and usually delivered with details, compassion, full captivation and abstract imaginations.
I started having the motive for writing right after the death of my father who was brutally murdered by a few dictatorship men. As a result of his death, my mother had to leave the country for safety purposes. I was just a young girl and witnessed such dreadful scene was not easily to process. In the same vein, I was grief-stricken over his death. That kind of took a toll on my daily activities, my schooling, my relationship with others; my childhood and you could name it all.
I literally became depress like the hollow child. Then, nothing seemed to interest me. I didn't see the purpose in living. I was always gloomy, uncontrollable crying under the veil.  Not wanting to get out of bed for no good reason. Coming from my culture and environment, people were not aware of depressive disorders. There wasn't any reach out for this kind of help. And I was not allowed to speak of such feelings. Otherwise, my Grand-Mama would wash my mouth with soap. This might sound like a convoluted metaphor. But seriously, she wouldn't want to see me looking down and under. She would say, “Little girl, don’t you bring shame to this family; and you too strong for that.”
 I do remember, being punished for reported feelings of depression and anxiety. On numerous times, she would keep me behind closed door for long hours. While being in locked down, scared and lonely, thoughts started racing inside my head. It felt like a wave of pressure travel to my inner ears. I remembered, having excruciating   headache; it felt as though my head was splitting in two. It was then; I started scribbling things down on paper. And overtime, I found myself dabbling in writing. I would write about everything: my anger, sadness, my concern for the world, from dark to light, slave narrative, named it all. That’s how I met writing and our relationship is still on the upswing.
My first poem titled “My archived friend” originally written in 1988 and later published in 2009.
 I have neither gold nor silver to give you
Neither one would serve your purpose
But...
I'm happy to be part of you.
~~~~~~~~~~``
I have no title or a background of the well-known
You accept me, as I am
In fact...
None of that is matter to you
~~~~~~~~~~``
When I met you I was bruised
My heart was grated from abused of the dear known
With your helped, I sustained my burdens
And I jotted down, all that bothered me on the inside.
~~~~~~~~~~``
Then when I trusted in my faux friends with secrets of the deepen treasures
They turned around and spreading them out like world glorified
My inside feels so worthless for having trusted such untrustworthy foes.
But what else can be done I'm not the kind that harboring grudges.
~~~~~~~~~~``
So to you I turn, within the pages my words are archived
They heal my worries each time I read back at them
They are as safe as angels above seven skies
And sable below deep blue sea
~~~~~~~~~``
For I have neither gold nor silver to give you
But you turn around and give me peace and protection
My relationship with you will remain always
As long there's pen around for me to cast my thoughts.
© 2009 by _Patricia Etienne
All rights reserved
My second piece of writing “The Boogeymen in the Black Boots” originally written in 1989 and made public in 2012.
On this foul terrain 

Even the very light blowing wind 

Bring the strongest man off balance 

Go figure the  heavy black boots predators 

who spread torture by buckets. 

They blow fire with burning pressure 

and oppression with no measure; 

attempting to meltdown those who are reluctant of their wrongdoings. 

Like the no kindest, no heart Apocalypses' laws 

Intimidation is ruled to win souls 

Rejeanne's father underwent the knife of oppression 

They totally drained out his activist blood 

Poor Rejeanne, she witnessed the entire reckless operation, 

and when her father’s last breath went flat-lining like a candle in the wind. 

Her mother escaped through the back wooden window

With little Rejeanne carried on her shoulder

Hours later she fled the country,

and left Rejeanne behind with her Grand-Mama.

Poor child has carried the cross of her time.

She felt short-changed to have lost her father,

and sort of abandoned by her mother.

She shed tears of broken memories;

especially, on father's day same for Mother's day.

Although, her Grand-Mama really tried to act as her parents,

but at times that didn't cut the drill.

She really needed someone to call Mom and Dad and she needed parenting love.

For Rejeanne, being a toddler and life without parents was very upheaval.

The many distressing dreams she always encountered,

Related to the traumatic event she has suffered.

Her nightmares content – the bogeymen in the black boots;

who were trying to break the door open.

Horrific dreams, that she often awoken with her heart pounding from fear.

Through many years Rejeanne spent each day of her life like a massive morn.

She grew into an anxious adult

Nonetheless compassionate...

Still with the long lasting emotional effects of traumatic experienced

© 2012 by _Patricia Etienne

All rights reserved


Sunday, April 20, 2014

His Execution (Happy Easter)



The moment of anguish
Alley of betrayal
Scene of suffering by one-man greed
Garden of lost hope
Awful, dreadful night
The beasts, unmerciful men, armed
Marched toward the pure, innocent soul
Gethsemane! Gethsemane!
He was tied with ropes and arrested
Accused for no known cause
Pilate, "for I find no fault in him"
Thus, he was flogged
His garment was torn
With the crown of thorns
His blood dripped from his forehead
Bathed his face, body and sweat
Put to shame, degradation, pain, and sorrow
Condemned and crucified
O Bethlehem! O Bethlehem!
The Lamb of God
He came to save us sinners
We gave him deception and death
O great virgin lady!
For your martyrs and torments
For witnessed the great sacrifice of the lamb
You stood the pain with fortress
And with great compassion
Blessed be! Blessed be!
O Jerusalem! O Jerusalem!
Sadness has overtaken your land
The deep dark sky cried of despair
For our saviour was sacrificed
We all are sinners!
With his compassion,
He took the part of a man for our sins
The prophecy has accomplished
He defeated death!
Maranatha!
© 2011 by _Patricia Etienne
 All rights reserved

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Happy World Book Day #HappyWorldBookDay


Happy World Book Day – Thursday 6th March 2014


"Believe in yourself and in your own voice, because there will be
times in this business when you will be the only one who does. Take
heart from the knowledge that an author with a strong voice will
often have trouble at the start of his or her career because strong,
distinctive voices sometimes make editors nervous. But in the end,
only the strong survive."
- Jayne Ann Krentz

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

On Writing

I just finished writing the general plot points of my upcoming project. “The undercover of darkness.” Book 2 of a trilogy. This work is not any easier. Even to create the plans were a bit gnarly. Well, I'll have to wear my determinate suit on. Here it goes again! Back to square one.

Friday, February 28, 2014

The Undercover of Darkness- Book one of a trilogy #ebay

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Friday, February 14, 2014

The Undercover of Darkness (Book One) #booklaunched in FIVE days

One woman’s chance to start over is marred with evil in Patricia Etienne’s adrenaline-pumping young adult novel, The Undercover of Darkness. Faced with a horrifying discovery, a young widow must fight for her life—and the lives of her children—to stop an unspeakable terror from taking over the town. Bonise-Ann is a recent widow just trying to get back on her feet. With her three young children in tow, she flees the heartbreaking memories that linger in her hometown of Norwalk, Connecticut, and sets out for a new destination: Gleeson, Arizona. A veritable ghost town, Gleeson is where Bonise-Ann is determined to start her new life. There she’ll stay in the house of her late husband’s relative, the devastatingly sweet Aunt Nellie. Upon arriving, the house Bonise-Ann expects turns out to be a sprawling mansion. Gorgeous but eerily empty feeling, the mansion gives Bonise-Ann a strange and unsettling feeling. Instead of leaving, however, Bonise-Ann struggles to make sense of her surroundings—all the while trying to keep calm for her children’s sake. But things take a turn for the bizarre when Bonise-Ann stumbles across a horrific secret: buried underneath the benign exterior of the lonely town lies an underground witch’s coven that has entranced most of the male population in Gleeson. This terrifying plot extends even to the authorities, who prove no help to Bonise-Ann at all. Having unearthed the coven’s identity, Bonise-Ann and her children are held hostage within the cavernous mansion. Denied some much needed medicine, Bonise-Ann must find a way to escape her makeshift prison or risk losing everything—and everyone—she loves. Can Bonise-Ann find a way to fight against the undercover of darkness? Or will she be doomed forever in a town wracked with evil? Find out in this taut thriller that will leave readers guessing until the very last page.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

"The Undercover of Darkness" ( Book 1) #soontobereleased

Antagonist character of the soon to be released Suspense/Thriller/Paranormal "The Undercover of Darkness" ( Book 1) authored by Patricia Etienne See what her character footpath is all about~ A villain psychopath, a male basher, she conducted an underground witch’s coven that has entranced most of the male population in Gleeson. she preyed on young boys who have no voice, or common sense to speak out. With ruse, power and money, she could retrieve their souls on the purpose to gain masculinity strength. Their auras of youth could be stolen and added to her body through using witchcraft.

Monday, January 27, 2014

The Undercover of Darkness- Book 1 (Meet the protagonist) #character

Bonise-Ann Taylor, played an outstanding character in this story- after she lost of her long-time position- the chief magazine. She underwent intensive rehabilitation inpatient for manic-depressive disorder. As misfortune continued to unfold, she endured greater financial strains, which led her to face a home foreclosure. Aunt Nellie was her safe haven. She offered Bonise-Ann and her three children hospitality into her mansion. Bonise-Ann— a widow, mother and a fighter. Under her thin nose, she could smell and sense the strange happenings in the mansion. Through light and heavy storms, she held onto her main goal, and axe out the root of all evil. All men were able to regain their masculinity strength and mental functions. Her bravery helped to re-establish lightness in the town of Gleeson Arizona.

Friday, January 24, 2014

Emphatic to Trap

As you make-believe to be innocent and neutral; yet under the magnetic glass your fingertips are found all over my pane. As light is to shine and night is to rest. Wrong… my life is rolling in an illusion box like a forgotten Cinderella in a midnight crisis. Seems like I'm lingering between past and present. We are neighbors, friends and shake hands like democratic, republic bureaucracies. As I am... still at Baby steps- Is this a sham? Shouldn't be! A viscous debt for my sovereignty; blood shed on the Republic soil. My wings shouldn’t be clipped off. Where’s the land of the free? Uh, my mistake! Cripple from the womb, absolutely no chance to thrive. Your twist , turn, barricade my path and bandage my view. Black tears run down my face and into my mouth- salty, bitter taste, Spit! The fire of revolt illuminates. Hearts are pumping blood unable to stop. As always stick with the popular chapter. "Pointing fingers at others..." Clearly that isn't the known fact. *Emphatic to trap* It’s like serving division and hatred on a spoon to aliment poverty and disarray. But… just before the shoe falls off the other foot- Let’s stand united, so we can clean up the air. For we’re a nation of Sang mĂȘlĂ©; hell-hole isn’t our destiny © 2012 by _Patricia Etienne All rights reserved

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Upcoming book


On writing #firstdraft



Don’t get stuck on the first draft by trying to horn it. You have to move forward. Most of the first drafts are dreadful. If you don’t take the next step- chances are you may never finish the product, or know how wonderful your book is.