Diane M Denton Portfolio

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A House Near Luccoli

Published by All Things That Matter Press, August 2012.
A novel set in 17th century Genoa, Italy; imagining an intimacy with the legendary and undervalued Baroque composer, Alessandro Stradella.

Alessandro Stradella (1639 - 1682): Out of the Shadows

Throughout his career, Stradella's output was versatile and copious, including operas, oratorios, serenatas, madrigals, and incidental music. He worked royally and nobly for the theater and church, for grand and domestica occasions, celebrating life and love, using allegory and heart and humor, challenging singers  and instrumentalist and the inventiveness of himself.

A Friendship with Flowers

This book was originally created by hand in a small journal while I was living in Oxfordshire, England in the 1980s. I am so pleased that I have been able to preserve it to share with a wider audience. It was done with gratefulness for the flowers that graced and healed me with their beauty, wisdom, and playfulness.

Essays

My Writing Life: A Planet in the Milky Way

Did I escape into my writing or did my writing escape into me? When did words I couldn’t speak begin speaking for me? How was the need to be lost and found fulfilled by my own heart? Of all the things I wanted to do, to be, to discover, why did solitude become the most productive, defining and enlightening way for me?

Shining on Appointed Sands

I can visualize her taking a break from late night writing to look out her bedroom window beyond swaying branches and sliding clouds at that moody orb begging to be personified. She sees its face but also its soul with a shape and light and purpose that illuminates her own.

Words and Music

I am listening to The Plaint: O Let Me Weep by Henry Purcell (1659– 1695), playing it over and over, a mantra while I’m writing. Even vocal music doesn’t distract me if it’s fluid and expressive, like the current under a boat, sending a narrative on its way.

Creative Writing for Creative Readers

Like many writers in“purgatory” (to borrow an apt word from James Herriot of All Creatures Great and Small fame) while trying to get published, I’ve encountered the question of which genre my novel belongs to.

Book Reviews

A Literary and Historical Treasure

Review of 'Martrys and Traitors', a novel by Marina Julia Neary

Entertaining and Enlightening

Review of ‘Veritas’, a poetry anthology by Ina Schroder Zeeders

Pure Artistry

Review of Between ‘Dusk and Darkness’, a prose-poetry anthology by A. Carder

Well-Researched and Interesting Story

Review of ‘Rebel Puritan (A Scandalous Life)', a novel by Jo Ann Butler

Fascination with Legends and Fairy Tales Shines Through

Review of 'The Cross and the Dragon, a novel by Kim Rendfeld

Bonds, Rivalries, Superstitions, and Consequences

Review of 'Orphan of the Olive Tree', a novel by Mirella Sichirollo Patzer

Creative Prose

The Fall of Summer

I’ve felt relief and regret in the last few days, the air cooling along with my gardener’s desire to keep summer flowering into autumn.

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Late May

The first greens acknowledge the heat and darken their thoughts, perhaps why the chestnut trees lift candles and the sky scatters blue with clouds to float upon a not yet summer’s day.

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Contemplation on Saint Cecilia

If music was a light, it would sound brighter in the dark. Like the glow around the moon, it would fade to illuminate the stars.

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To Eire with Love

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 and, also, a bloom in our cheeks as we rode along. And in the gorse and heather,  again and at last. 

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A Valentine Remembered

Daffodils like music can court the heart into stories that begin without end.

I followed the trail through mud and dust to walk mainly alone; the affairs of this life and others better recalled with imagination than regret.

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Crocus At Last (And Forever)

There is a memory here, planted moments before it was too late.

It’s not what it seems. These are not the spring variety, waking from frigid dreams, wooed by what is to come, green showing warily yet buds often opening too soon.

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Recalling Scarborough

Her first glimpse of the sea was from a room as small as the experience was vast. It wasn’t the best lodging in Scarborough, except as could be afforded; but there was a brightening view of the bay below the promontory where a castle crumbled ...

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Leaving Montreal

Still, I believe you knew what I knew.

The view from the bridge was a beautiful morning, lifting a city into a mountain of green and the sunlight of God. I floated across the river on my way to where you were waiting to say hello and goodbye.

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Cats Between the Lines

Cats must be there. Even as I wander long ago and faraway, they
follow me, rub my legs, curl on my bed and beg my attention without disturbing it.

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Too Many Tales

We waded into a sea of faces masked in markings of black and white, gray and ginger, eyes shining through from a galaxy all their own. There were jewels in each look, some sparkling, others sadder from losing their luster.

Published in the Buffalo News April 7, 2012

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Playing with Ambition

He makes a grab for my pen, puffing his cheeks, smiling if he could. It’s not that he wants me to stop writing, at least not in the long term, for it keeps me captivated and close to him.

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A Home for Oscar

What was your story before it became mine? Before each appearance out of the woods surrounding the yard where I also prowled, feeding the birds you respectfully glanced at and filling the little shell-shaped birdbath that had become your drinking habit.

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The Cove

She wandered away from a dream, not to escape the music but the baking sun and
choking dust ...

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Past Life

The snow is freshly fallen, connecting this place to every other,
blending past and present, enfolding me in the company of one who has come and gone. The colorless shapes through my window are as haunting as my heartache.

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© Copyright 2012 DM Denton. All rights reserved.

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