Scribo Scribere
A Literary Blog
I am a writer based in New Jersey. I have a Bachelor’s degree from Harvard University and a Master’s degree from the University of Toronto. I have experience as a German to English translator, a technical writer, and a grant writer. In my writing, I explore myth, legend, and languages. This blog is devoted to my past and future writings. – Johanna Rodda
Category: Uncategorized
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Dear Friend, It was wonderful this week, to see and talk to you again. You’ll keep me in your thoughts, won’t you, as you go about your days in that far city while I ply my life many thousands of miles away? When I saw you on the corner, by our college, standing there just…
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This very night, late into the night, in my bed before sleep, after a meeting of friends, I lie keenly awake reading a book under the covers, not wanting the day to end. Because, tonight, I met someone who moved my soul. I know only his name and where he is from. All else is…
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The paintings stand as a testament to all the places he went, all the things he did in his life. There is an oceanscape: bright and true, the azurine blue, with ships and a lighthouse to shine the way to sailors on the sea. There is a young girl, dressed in a dress with flounces,…
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The harmony of life is such – I do not ask of it so much – that one must die while one must live, one must take and one must give. But why does God ordain it so? Is He above, and we below? Must we always then obey what God and World have set…
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I. He is columbus meus, my own, my dove. We are ensconced in a garden of love. Together we eat the manna of Eden. That a garden to plant a seed in. Follow me, oh follow, in this ‘verse: this my paradise, not my hearse. And so, through all this, I aver: From this green…
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Whenever I feel low, in blue, or else just slow, I think of him in whom my heart delights, think of our triumphs, not our fights. I think of him to lift my spirits. I want him to appear; it’s what powers me through my day. It makes red what once was gray. Him in…
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But because she would not go to Italy for him, their love foundered like a boat on rocks. Perhaps it was not so hale a love. And yet, she loved him well. She had since they first met, when he introduced her to duende, and all the beauty in the world around her. He was…
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When one day I walked into a Fellowship, searching for some way or form or fashion in which to find god, in whatever manner that is possible, I was greeted with a flaming chalice, and a singing bowl. The structure of this church – if church it can be called – is in form and…
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From coffee shop to far cafe, boulangerie to beer garden, in foreign cities with different ways than those which I have known, from bright of day to falling night, across the wide-set ocean, on the other side of a mountain, not knowing the language, being hard pressed to replicate the sounds on the menu, in…
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I shall call her, Ave Formossisma! Behold the most beautiful one! For that is what she is: most beautiful. What other guise would you have the mother of all mankind be under? Of course, by this, I mean no other than Eve, fair Eve, Eve who once lived in the Garden. Why should I not…
