Archive for the ‘writing’ Category

Standing on the stool stirring the cookie dough.

Drawing the face on the pumpkin to carve.

Ripping open the first present under the tree.

Blowing out the birthday candles.

Clipping playing cards to your bicycle frame with wooden cloths pins and taking off.

Sitting in front of a fan with a friend saying silly things in funny voices.

Connecting the top of the orange hot wheels track to the dinning room table and letting em fly.

Sneaking up, and kicking the can as hard as you can, releasing your friends from captivity.

Taking your mother’s sheets and blankets and turning your room into a secret hideaway.

Pumping that BB gun one last time with all your might.

Sitting on the floor with your best friend with Barbie doll cloths as far as the eye can see.

Looking over the top of your red Battle Ship holder willing the location of their destroyer into your brain.

Walking through the neighborhood in 8 inches of snow to the bus stop, and taking part in the biggest snowball battle in the history of the neighborhood.

Chasing Lightening Bugs around the back yard with a mason jar in one hand and a gold lid in the other.

The entire family sitting down for a home cooked meal in the evening with everyone talking and laughing.

Friday nights at the skating rink.

Playing Monopoly for four hours.

Having a sleepover at your house with 10 of your closest friends.

Being the fastest at Pong in your family.

Sitting in the middle of the street marking out the hopskip lines.

Laying on the floor reading the funnies on Sunday afternoon.

Remembering back to when your Mother, your Father, your two brothers and you, were actually a family.


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The heavy weighted door swings
Singing from ages of exertion
Waning not from duty
As the passageway to fulfillment
Crossing through, sparks renewal
A myriad of alternatives lie beyond
Absconding from the daily ritual
Of life the driving force
Options come as flashes of color
Discrimination lends a touch
Spurring guidance down
The perfect corridor
Walls climb rich all around
Tragedy and drama teeter on the edge
Blurring the vision to choose
Pulse quickens with expectation
Overwhelmed by the abundance
Fingertips brush the hands of time
Holding back the urge
To seize the now and savor
The enormity of collective thoughts
Stabs the mind with incomprehension
Milling through the prevalent scads
Anticipation surges forward
Greeting the end of dilemma
The perfect book has been found.

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Was that a cat I heard
It could be coming from the alley way
Almost sounds like a woman screaming
Must be a cat

Such a sweet little girl
Her blonde ringlets bouncing so
Are those bruises on her arm just there
No, must be mud

So much black that boy wears
Those things in his face must be painful
Eyes black as night shine red like fire
Must be the pollen

That man is so dirty
Those clothes surely need a good washing
Why is he holding that cup towards me
He must be mistaken

How can a car be so stuffed
That family must be moving to a new place
There are only two tires on that car
They must be moving

Gracious, that lady is so thin
I wish I could be that same size
There sure is a lot of food on her plate
Must be a model

Those children are sleeping
What a cute teddy bear she is holding
It must be cooler in the backseat of that car
It must be cooler

The storm is really blowing now
He’ll be home in time for dessert, I’m sure
I can’t hear my show for that noisy fire whistle
They must be joking

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My guiding light

I saw a light shining
A pinpoint of gold
A mere speck of brilliance
Floating within my mind’s eye
Was it a thought about to come to me
Maybe an idea of grandeur
I think perhaps I shall follow
Skip along to see where it leads
It makes me happy
I feel all glad inside because of it
Is it here for a purpose
To lead me in the right direction
Doubt unfolds into purpose
Negativity fades away
I am fulfilled
My aura shines bright blue
Warmth radiates out from every pore
Reaching beyond the cold darkness
The tempest within has been subdued
My mind raging no longer
I see the first stepping stone before me
Illuminated by my guiding light of hope.

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Well, tonight is the night. I’m going to start work on my first poem to send in for publishing. Oh my, I am so nervous. Do I go simple, majestic, powerful, cute…so many choices. Then again, I think I might just stick with what I believe is my tried and true nature…creating an image in one’s mind and wrapping a story around it…adding a little emotion to tie up the loose ends. I’m stoked. Everybody cross your fingers…and other available parts. LOL!

Taking a deep breath and jumping in…

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Just one more.

What a crazy place to meet. Going under that pier to retrieve the dog’s toy. Wasn’t the dog supposed to do that? Then running into him like that. Oh my word! So handsome. He was just so handsome. Hard to believe he was doing the exact same thing, getting his dog’s toy. And both red squeaky balls. How funny is that. My God that seems like a million years ago. So young.

I don’t even remember what I was wearing. Isn’t that silly? Such a silly thing to try to remember. What was I wearing? A two piece? Yes, it must have been. He must have been temporarily blinded by my head butt if I had on that hideous orange thing. I guess that’s what Mothers are for, to buy us ugly clothes. Too funny.

That first date. His cologne. I smell it now. He took my hand as I got out of the car and didn’t let go of it. He’s holding it now. Strong, hardworking hands. Such a long time ago. So many years. Together.

What about that car? The GTO. Oh, we had some times in that car. He loved that car. His high school graduation gift from his father. I would kid him that I wasn’t really his first love, the car was. He did ask me to marry him instead of the car though, so that was a good sign. He regretted selling it. But, it was his decision. I told him he could keep it, but with the baby coming.

It is too quiet! Why is it so quiet? I should hear beeping! I need to hear beeping! What is going on? I have to look. Eyes are so tired. Oh, okay, there’s the nurse. I see her. It’s okay. Everything is okay. Let me lay my head back down and listen to the thumping. It keeps me going. It keeps me alive. Keeps him alive.

We didn’t know what it was going to be, boy or girl. Daddy’s little man. That look on his face. When he held his son the first time. Our son. He just cried. He cried just like a little baby himself. I almost died when he pulled out “the box”. He had gone shopping. On one side of the box was a brand new Barbie doll, a little pink dress with matching bloomers, white patent leather shoes and a heart-shaped locket that said Daddy’s girl. On the other side was a little pair of Brogan boots, the smallest leather tool belt you’ve ever seen in your life, a shaving razor and a brand new Hot Wheels GTO. I was overwhelmed. Speechless. Moved to tears. This big, imposing, rugged looking man showing such utter and honest love.

My back. Ouch! It hurts so bad. Time. What time is it? What day? Beeping. Good. Tired. So very tired. Did I call Race? Yes, yes I called him earlier. Update. Nothing new. So dark in here. I hate that stupid overhead light. It keeps flickering. You’d think they’d fix that for God’s sake! Aggravating son of a bitch. Let me get a hold of one of those bulbs and I’ll stick it up someone‘s ass. Stop! Stop it! You’re just tired. Just tired.

There was one time and one time only I saw this man crumble. This man. This pillar of marble. Invincible. I knew he was invincible. But when your best friend, your companion, your constant…dies. He would have been 98 in people years, at least I think I remember the calculation. Seven years to one, right? Not sure. The dog’s name was Piston. How appropriate. And black as oil just drained from a motor. Two peas in a pod. Piston could tell time just like a twenty-one jewel watch. He knew exactly when his Daddy would be home from work. He would sit at the bay window. Patiently. Never moving a muscle. Listening. Straining to hear. Those ears would be a twitchin’ just like a bat. And then he’d hear it. The motor. From miles away. The very tip of that dog’s tail would start a waggin‘. Just the tip, not the whole thing. When the truck pulled in the driveway, you would witness the purest form of unconditional love. Sometimes I couldn’t tell who was smiling bigger him, or the dog. It left a hole in his heart when Piston died. A hole that can never be filled. One year later I did my very best to patch that hole when I handed him a solid white lab puppy, which he named Primer.

Meant to be. He and I were just meant to be. Family. Pride. No regrets. We’ve done our best. Isn’t that all anyone can do? You just keep moving forward. With your life. He has always been there. By my side. My hero. What if? What if? Oh God! I can’t think like that! I can’t. Stay strong. Be strong. He needs me. He can’t make it without me. How the hell will he find his clean underwear if I’m not around?

That time in the mountains. The motel. Sitting in rocking chairs outside the room with our coffee. Early morning. In the valley with mountains all around. Watching a veil of white. Ever so slowly the layers of mist danced up the mountain. Fingers of fog would hang in the folds of the mountain refusing to make their way up. My God that was wonderful. Quiet. It was so quiet. Rays of gold started warming our cheeks as the sun broke through. Revealing. Birds started signing, telling the world hello.

This doesn’t sound right. The thumping doesn’t sound right. His chest is moving to quickly under my head. Dear God! What does this mean? Why? Please No! Please stay with me! So much life left to live. What do I do? This is happening so fast. Were is the nurse? I don’t see anybody. Don’t move your head. Keep it down here where you can listen. Is he still breathing? Yes, there was one. In. Out. His hand is squeezing mine so tightly. I’m loosing him! Someone help me! Someone save him! Why aren’t they coming? His chest is filling. Rising. Breathing. Falling. Still falling. Empty. Silence.

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He said, she said

Is it just me, or do most writers have trouble introducing dialogue into their stories? I really do not understand why it is so difficult for me. I am fine with the descriptive aspect, but when the conversation has to start……I just sit there. Any suggestions? Or, is it even possible to give a suggestion for this afflication? *throwing hands up now, but not walking away*

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