2018 Poetry Goals

It’s been a long while since I kicked myself in the bum and said “Get to work.”

But I’m ready.

ECRGHN poetry word in mixed vintage metal type printing blocks over grunge wood

My 2018 poetry goal is to complete drafts of at least 3 poems a week.

Not 3 masterpieces. Just 3 drafts.

I’m giving myself permission to write crap if crap is all that comes out.

But if I allow myself to get out of the way and just write, the truth is, there is usually something salvageable there.

One way to get out of my own way and give myself permission to write is to do writing exercises.

Writing exercises have a wonderful way of short circuiting my critical voice, and taking me from “planning mode” into just writing in the moment.

Here’s to all of us writing more and more freely in 2018!

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Red Riding Hood’s Real Life — My new book is here!

Excited to officially announce the publication of Red Riding Hood’s Real Life: a novel in verse.

Makes a great holiday gift. 😉


If you’d like an autographed (or personally inscribed copy) please email me through the contact form on this website. $20 includes US Priority shipping.

Or, if you’d like both Red Riding Hood and Four Quarters: an homage to T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, $35 gets you both books with US Priority shipping.

Or you can order from Amazon, B&N, or IndieBound

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Beyond the Eclipse

It was foggy where I was. Such a disappointment, to be in the path of totality and miss the coolest show on earth. And who knows if I’ll still be kicking around on earth when the next total solar eclipse rolls by. My next big wish is to see the Northern Lights.

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America, January 27, 2017 or We Are the Germans

© Lana Hechtman Ayers


Terror, anger, shame.


I wonder If this is how
the German people felt—
the ones who cobbled shoes,
the ones who rose early
to bake bread,
the ones who rocked
babies in their arms
and sang guten Morgen—


I wonder if this is how
the German people felt
when they saw
what they had done,
chosen a monster
to lead their country.


Instead of yards full of chickens,
and pockets full of deutsche marks,
the German people were treated to
streets swept clean of their unclean
neighbors, and courtyards
full of dust and darkness,
uniformed men with brutal
hands to patrol the land with pride.


I wonder if those Germans
who tended their gardens,
or who kept books
for the mom and pop markets,
or who constructed those fine
Mercedes Benz limousines
piece by elegant piece—


I wonder if this is how
those Germans felt,
the way Americans do now,
only a few days after our
new leader has assumed office
and signed the proclamation
stating Muslims aren’t welcome
on our American soil.


Terror, anger, shame.


I wonder if those Germans
bit their tongues to blood,
or worried their knuckles raw.
Did they feel any sorrow at all,
or did they simply lay
their heads on pillows
and wind the alarm clocks
for another day?

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