The sky was dull, dar, and cloudy over the misty, empty field. Mihitabel trudged across the depressing scene, pulling her fleece jacket close to her throat. "Walking against the wind is hard," she thought. "No! My hat!" she screamed as it tumbled away. She turned, reaching out with splayed fingers to grab at her hat, but it remained just out of her reach. Suddenly, a gale swept the hat up and took it far beyond her vision. It became lost in the ever-suppressing mist. Mihitabel sighed and continued on - without her hat.
That was my grandmother's hat... what will Mom do when she finds out I lost it? I know it's simply a hat, bur Grandma just died, and mom is a fanatic about keeping everything Grandma owned. God, she's going to make me come back out here and search for it. Or sort through Grandma's stuff, organize it, put it into new boxes, and on and on. I can't stand the way she cleans and organizes and adjusts everything ALL THE TIME! She can't even stand the attic being in disarray. I mean, it's an attic... you put junk up there... it's supposed to be junky. I would love to get a room, trash it, and just leave it that way. That would be wonderful. I need messiness in my life. Untidiness, trash, muck, confusion; somehow it clears my head. Which is why I'm out in this soggy field in the first place. I need to clear my mind so I can think. I need to think so that I can figure out how to get rid of my mother.
All in bold was written by members of 3rd period creative writing.
Friday, December 4, 2009
The Walk
In dark, gloomy shades of gray, blowing in from the North, a small group of children walk silently and apprehensively.
The wear black robes, but glow in the darkness nonetheless. With bolts of lightening and shattering booms, jungle noise fill the night, heard but not seen. Pellets of water come crashing down, and little lights drift in the mist. The group keeps walking.
The Professor appears from the faded blankets of gray. She slowly makes her way to the head of the group. The all fall to the earth, down, down, then are tossed up again by the playful wind of the North. Now they all have small candles, lighting the way, so soft, so silent. Hearts race, spirits flutter, as they breath this air.
They glide to the top of a steep hill. The rain is hurling down, this torrent from the North, but the sky is getting a bit lighter as the group ascends. It is blue and purple, though the dark clouds still remain. They lend an ear to the lamenting booms as they reach the top. Four, stark white pillars rise before them, 50 ft. high, in the shape of a square, topped with a flat roof. On and on, splish, splash, flash, and boom.
The structure twists and sags - an eerie stillness claims the air. Silence creeps in from the North as they glide under the roof. Lightly the drops come down, down, tapping the elaborate structure, sprinkling the air. The Professor inhales the sweet, clear, stormy air, and raises her candle to the fathomless gray. The children follow suit, and jungle sounds rise up from below.
The wear black robes, but glow in the darkness nonetheless. With bolts of lightening and shattering booms, jungle noise fill the night, heard but not seen. Pellets of water come crashing down, and little lights drift in the mist. The group keeps walking.
The Professor appears from the faded blankets of gray. She slowly makes her way to the head of the group. The all fall to the earth, down, down, then are tossed up again by the playful wind of the North. Now they all have small candles, lighting the way, so soft, so silent. Hearts race, spirits flutter, as they breath this air.
They glide to the top of a steep hill. The rain is hurling down, this torrent from the North, but the sky is getting a bit lighter as the group ascends. It is blue and purple, though the dark clouds still remain. They lend an ear to the lamenting booms as they reach the top. Four, stark white pillars rise before them, 50 ft. high, in the shape of a square, topped with a flat roof. On and on, splish, splash, flash, and boom.
The structure twists and sags - an eerie stillness claims the air. Silence creeps in from the North as they glide under the roof. Lightly the drops come down, down, tapping the elaborate structure, sprinkling the air. The Professor inhales the sweet, clear, stormy air, and raises her candle to the fathomless gray. The children follow suit, and jungle sounds rise up from below.
Friday, November 13, 2009
There was Chaos... 3
There was chaos in a small place inside,
In a small place it did reside,
And there it did hide,
For quite a long time,
Until it snuck out,
And ran all about,
Now the chaos is on the outside.
In a small place it did reside,
And there it did hide,
For quite a long time,
Until it snuck out,
And ran all about,
Now the chaos is on the outside.
There was Chaos... 2
There was Chaos in a small place,
Screaming, flinging, desperate for escape.
It showed in the rambling words of the homeless,
The wild brushstrokes of modern art,
The gunshots and explosions of endless battle,
The empty prayers of fervent religion.
There was chaos in a small place inside,
Which means the worst is yet to come.
Screaming, flinging, desperate for escape.
It showed in the rambling words of the homeless,
The wild brushstrokes of modern art,
The gunshots and explosions of endless battle,
The empty prayers of fervent religion.
There was chaos in a small place inside,
Which means the worst is yet to come.
There was Chaos... 1
There was chaos is a small place inside her heart, but it did not rule her mind. This might have been a good thing, if the chaos was insanity, but the chaos was not insanity. The chaos was conflict, and her mind was clear. She shot him through his heart with no remorse.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Bloody Twist
Abby was frantic now. Blood was spilled all over path and splattered on the nearby rocks and trees. She'd been following this red trail for days now and had found no body. She stumbled as pain shot through her leg; it had been doing this for hours, but it wasn't too bad. She assumed she just had a leg cramp, nothing to stop and worry about. She moved on. The person must still be alive, but severely crazed and lost, Abby noted, why else would the track be so long and random? Whoever was the cause of this mess was not far in front of Abby, and was in serious need of help.
Abby continued down the path hurriedly, hoping to hear or see who was leading her. Pain attacked her leg again and this time she fell. She clutched her ankle because it throbbed the most and wouldn't stop. This was ridiculous, she had to keep moving, she couldn't let a little discomfort in her ankle distract her. As she brought her hands away to get up, she realized that they were wet and slimy. She looked at them and saw blood. Her eyes shot toward her ankle and her scream filled the woods. Her foot was chopped in half and what was left was shredded to the bone. Her blood was spilled all over the path behind her and splattered on the rocks and trees nearby.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Pumpkin Carving
P unctured and sliced
U nderneath the vines
M urdered in the night
P utrid, rotting flesh. The
K nife lay on the ground, not so
I nnocently,
N estled among the gore.
C arried out of the garden
A rranged around a flame
R ipped and torn
V iciously carved
I nto
N ightmarish,
G hastly, grinning faces.
- Roberta Moore and Mary-Margaret Greene
Horror
H orrice Minkle went walking
O ne dark and murky night;
R ippling shadows crept behind
R ushing to take his life.
O ne scream rang out and died -
R igor Mortis set in the night.
- Roberta Moore and Mary-Margaret Greene
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The Slasher Flick of 1862
The rising sun cast upon the trees a flickering orange light. Long shadows concealed our faces and the morning mist hid our bodies. All 2,000 of us crept down the hillside to the edge of the opposing camp. These men sleeping here, guilty of theft and manslaughter, participants in the abuse of other human beings, deserved to die. But in the silence of the early morning, these soldiers already seemed dead, still and defenseless. A snore and a sigh was heard here and there, and we were ordered into the mass of sleeping bodies. As I edged past sprawled legs and heads, my eyes fell upon a man, a child really, who couldn't have been more than 14 years old. He lay with his arm tucked under his head and his blanket snug around his chin.
"Aim." The sergeant spoke, his voice low and cracked with disuse. The boy shifted and awoke at the clicks of our rifles being cocked. His eyes widened once they focused on the barrel of my gun a his head. He started to pant and his eyes began to water. He licked his lips nervously and looked into my eyes; his face was pleading. He found his voice.
"Don't - "
"Fire."
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Up All Night (song lyrics)
3 AM with the lights still burning
The thoughts in my head keep on churning
That paper is due and the dog needs out
It's past my curfew but I'm up and about
chorus:
There's no time left
Yet so much to do
My eyes are getting bleary
Just gotta get through
A couple more minutes
Into the wee hours
But there's no time left
And I've lost my willpower
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Children's Book (Beck)
It was a sunny, blustery, Fall day. All the leaves were red, yellow, and orange, and the air was cool.
All the children in Ms. Beck's class couldn't sit still! They wanted to go outside and enjoy the weather.
"I want to splash in the leaves!" said Ben.
"I want to sit outside and watch the cars go by," stated Griffin.
"OK class, I'll tell you what," said Ms. Beck, "We're going to stay outside today - it's just such a pretty day!"
"YAY!" The class quickly lined up at the door.
Once they got outside, everyone ran off in different directions. There was just so much to do!
Amelia, Emily, Daniel, and Isaiah gathered together to jump into a HUGE pile of leaves. Leaves flew everywhere and they giggled as they jumped in again and again.
Kenya F. and Chelsea swung through the cool air on the swings. The wind rushed through their hair and made their noses cold!
Jacob and Ian sat down to read books. The sun warmed their backs and soon they were so comfy that they laid down and took a little nap.
Poppi and Isabella played hide and seek. They hid between thick bushes, in tall, brown grass, and behind giant trees.
Nahshon ran around, catching the leaves as they fell from the trees. He caught a lot - almost twenty!
Zoe M. and Priyanka built fairy houses in the grass. They used leaves, acorns, and twigs. Soon they had a whole village.
Tyler skipped along the sidewalk and through the field. He landed on big, dry, brown leaves - CRUNCH!
"Where? Where are we going?" someone asked.
"Wait and see." Ms. Beck smiled. They walked to a big stadium and went through the gates. "We're going to see a football game!" Ms. Beck announced.
"YAY!" The class was so excited. They bought popcorn and candy and drinks and sat down to watch the game.
Phew! It had been a long day and it started getting dark, but the fun was just beginning.
"We have one more thing to do class. Line up and follow me; we're going on a walking field trip! Your parents will meet us when we get there." Ms. Beck said, waving them forward.
"Where? Where are we going?" someone asked.
"Wait and see." Ms. Beck smiled. They walked to a big stadium and went through the gates. "We're going to see a football game!" Ms. Beck announced.
"YAY!" The class was so excited. They bought popcorn and candy and drinks and sat down to watch the game.
It was so much fun - both of the teams were very good, but Decatur was the best.
"OK guys, it's getting pretty late," said Ms. Beck as Decatur scored the winning touchdown, "Let's go meet your parents."
The children walked out of the stadium to their parents. One by one, each parent asked their child about their day. "Did you have any fun?" they asked.
"Oh, it was the best day ever!" they replied, "You won't believe what we did!"
THE END
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Children's Book (Cruz)
It was a sunny, blustery, Fall day. All the leaves were red, yellow, and orange and the air was cool.
Callia and Fadumo watched the leaves change colors. There were pretty golds, lively reds, and bright oranges. There were some not so pretty brown ones, but they were fun to crunch!
Nelson pretended to be a lion and played with Sophie on the field. They ran around and around and around - it seemed like they would never stop!
Kai swung on the swings so high he touched the trees with his feet. The wind rushed through his hair and the leaves tickled his toes.
Rachael and Carrie talked about the apple picking trip they were going to take with their families. They planned on bringing back a fresh apple for everybody.
"Where? Where are we going?" someone asked.
"Wait and see." Ms. Cruz smiled. They walked to a big stadium and went through the gates. "We're going to see a football game!" Ms. Cruz announced.
"YAY!" The class was so excited. They bought popcorn and candy and drinks and sat down to watch the game.
All the children in Ms. Cruz's class couldn't sit still! They wanted to go outside and enjoy the weather.
"I want to splash in the leaves!" said Andrew.
"I want to sit outside and watch the cars go by." stated Keegen.
"OK class, I'll tell you what," said Ms. Cruz, "We're going to stay outside today - it's just such a pretty day!"
"YAY!" The class quickly lined up at the door.
Once they got outside, everyone ran off in different directions. There was just so much to do!
Guy, Celia, Eric, and Jaden rushed over to a HUGE pile of leaves and jumped in. Leaves flew everywhere and they giggled as they jumped in again and again.
Guy, Celia, Eric, and Jaden rushed over to a HUGE pile of leaves and jumped in. Leaves flew everywhere and they giggled as they jumped in again and again.
Mekhi skipped around and caught leaves as they fell from the trees. He caught a lot - almost twenty!
Francesca and Juliette collected the biggest, most colorful leaves off the ground. Francesca was going to give hers to her old Pre-K teacher. Juliette thought her Mimi and Papa would like hers.
Talia and Lonnitra played hide and seek with Harrison. They hid between thick bushes, in tall, brown grass, and behind giant trees.
William played "birds" with his friends. They pretended to fly through the colorful trees and make nests out of pine straw.
Callia and Fadumo watched the leaves change colors. There were pretty golds, lively reds, and bright oranges. There were some not so pretty brown ones, but they were fun to crunch!
Nelson pretended to be a lion and played with Sophie on the field. They ran around and around and around - it seemed like they would never stop!
Rachael and Carrie talked about the apple picking trip they were going to take with their families. They planned on bringing back a fresh apple for everybody.
Phew! It had been a long day, but the fun was just beginning.
"We have one more thing to do class. Line up and follow me; we're going on a walking field trip! Your parents will meet us when we get there." Ms. Cruz said, waving them forward.
"Where? Where are we going?" someone asked.
"Wait and see." Ms. Cruz smiled. They walked to a big stadium and went through the gates. "We're going to see a football game!" Ms. Cruz announced.
"YAY!" The class was so excited. They bought popcorn and candy and drinks and sat down to watch the game.
It was so much fun - both of the teams were very good, but Decatur was the best.
"OK guys, it's getting pretty late," said Ms. Cruz as Decatur scored the winning touchdown, "Let's go meet your parents."
The children walked out of the stadium to their parents. One by one, each parent asked their child about their day. "Did you have any fun?" they asked.
"Oh, it was the best day ever!" they replied, "You won't believe what we did!"
THE END
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Her Reflective Essay
When I was younger, my youth group went up to Tennessee to work with impoverished families. We constructed homes around these families, and provided support in whatever way we could. It was very tiring work, but I gained a valuable lesson from it.
We were assigned to the Phillips family. Our job was to see if we could return running water to the one bathroom, add doors to the two bedrooms, replace warped paneling, and put flashing around the chimney on the roof (apparently, the reason the paneling was damaged was because they forgot to put the flashing on when they first built the house).
The first time I walked through the door of their shack, I thought to myself, "God, what disaster has happened here?" I wanted to just walk right back out. The entire house was packed in with useless junk that had a single trail made out so that one could walk through without tripping. This is when I truly grasped the fact that not everybody lives the same way I do, though if they did, the world would be a much better place. However, just as pity and disgust began to seep into my mind, I stepped over the threshold and smelled… fried chicken. And biscuits. Think of the best chicken biscuit you've ever had and multiply its goodness by ten. Then add three smiling, genuinely warm-hearted people into the mix and you've got contentment. Mr. Phillips, Ms. Phillips, and Patricia make up one of the happiest, most satisfied families you could ever meet.
That didn't make up for the hovel they called their house, but despite their not-so-perfect living condition, they had a great, organic, vegetable garden from which they got a majority of their food. Mr. Phillips, even though he was poor and dirty, gave away baskets of tomatoes and peppers to family and friends instead of selling them. As he put it, "I just feel like it's nice to do. I like giving away my tomatoes. People like them." They also had flock of chickens and kept a pig or two; not as clean and healthy, but overall they led a locally sustainable existence. I was amazed at how they could take such good care of these animals and garden, and not of their house or themselves.
What I learned is that these things are not what mattered the most. What was more important was how these people accepted what they had and didn't complain. I had expected this family to be sad and sorry for themselves. I had imagined ourselves as something like heroes coming in the nick of time to save their house and save their lives. I wasn't entirely wrong, but these people were happy, satisfied, and at peace with the world. They had their share of troubles just like anyone else and they needed help. That was our job; to fix the problems so that they could continue on with their lives. They didn't so much worry about the material things, but regarded life and love seriously and did not take them for granted. They were happy with their lives overall, just not with their house. Though their style of living was not ideal for me, there's nothing bad or wrong with the way they're living. I learned that material items do not matter as much as your life and the people close to you, but they are still important parts of our lives.
We were assigned to the Phillips family. Our job was to see if we could return running water to the one bathroom, add doors to the two bedrooms, replace warped paneling, and put flashing around the chimney on the roof (apparently, the reason the paneling was damaged was because they forgot to put the flashing on when they first built the house).
The first time I walked through the door of their shack, I thought to myself, "God, what disaster has happened here?" I wanted to just walk right back out. The entire house was packed in with useless junk that had a single trail made out so that one could walk through without tripping. This is when I truly grasped the fact that not everybody lives the same way I do, though if they did, the world would be a much better place. However, just as pity and disgust began to seep into my mind, I stepped over the threshold and smelled… fried chicken. And biscuits. Think of the best chicken biscuit you've ever had and multiply its goodness by ten. Then add three smiling, genuinely warm-hearted people into the mix and you've got contentment. Mr. Phillips, Ms. Phillips, and Patricia make up one of the happiest, most satisfied families you could ever meet.
That didn't make up for the hovel they called their house, but despite their not-so-perfect living condition, they had a great, organic, vegetable garden from which they got a majority of their food. Mr. Phillips, even though he was poor and dirty, gave away baskets of tomatoes and peppers to family and friends instead of selling them. As he put it, "I just feel like it's nice to do. I like giving away my tomatoes. People like them." They also had flock of chickens and kept a pig or two; not as clean and healthy, but overall they led a locally sustainable existence. I was amazed at how they could take such good care of these animals and garden, and not of their house or themselves.
What I learned is that these things are not what mattered the most. What was more important was how these people accepted what they had and didn't complain. I had expected this family to be sad and sorry for themselves. I had imagined ourselves as something like heroes coming in the nick of time to save their house and save their lives. I wasn't entirely wrong, but these people were happy, satisfied, and at peace with the world. They had their share of troubles just like anyone else and they needed help. That was our job; to fix the problems so that they could continue on with their lives. They didn't so much worry about the material things, but regarded life and love seriously and did not take them for granted. They were happy with their lives overall, just not with their house. Though their style of living was not ideal for me, there's nothing bad or wrong with the way they're living. I learned that material items do not matter as much as your life and the people close to you, but they are still important parts of our lives.
Factual Fiction
He had been gone four hours. She would be worried, or suspicious. How was she to know what he had been up to? The balloon was his only proof. He had gone with his friend, Matt to the fair because Matt wanted to visit the kissing booth, but didn't want to go alone.
"Look Matt, I have a lot to do today - "
"Come on buddy! I need you there! Gimme some support."
"Dude, it's just a kissing booth, it's not like you need a wingman. This sort of thing is for 10-year-olds and old men who can't get any action. Go to a bar and see what you find there."
"Look, it's for reminiscing, you know, looking back to the good ol' days. Just for fun, man! Come with me, you'll enjoy it."
"You mean you'll enjoy it."
"Whatever, you can feed off the glow of my experience."
So he went. The line was very long. While he waited for Matt, he bought a bright pink balloon because he thought, "She will like this." He hadn't gotten a chance to tell her that he was going out - she had been yelling at a telemarketer on the phone. She would be in a bad mood when he got home so better bring something nice back.
Matt finally got through the line and got his smooch. Now it was raining. It would take him an extra hour to get home because of the weather. It started coming down in torrents and by the time he dropped Matt off, it had already been an hour and a half. She would be extremely anxious now. He realized he had left his cell phone on the counter when he was leaving earlier that day. She would be furious - how many times had she told him to ALWAYS take his phone with him wen he left the house?
10 minutes away and the rain had stopped, but it had become quite gusty outside. He could now see the porch light shining through the mist - it was already 8:00 pm. It had been 6 hours. She would be pacing, biting her nails, debating whether or not to call the police. The balloon would cheer her up - it bobbed safely in the back seat.
He pulled into the driveway and shut off the car. He sat and took a deep breath, bracing himself. He opened the door - WHOOSH - a blast of wind swept through the car, grabbed the balloon, and breezed out again. He stood there gaping, his arms stretched out in an empty grasp - zero balloon. And he stood there with nothing to show for the day; he stood there and thought, "Oh dear."
Ominous thoughts swirled around in his head - what would she do? What would she say? How would she react when he entered the house, hours after supper, with no valid reason for being away so long. His single shred of evidence that would have proved where he had been was gone. He stood there empty-handed, his clothes sagging with the mist, watching the balloon meander through the sky, pitching back and forth in the turbulent bursts of wind.
He turned toward the house and considered it with the fear a child has before entering a haunted mansion. Gray clouds swirled and tumbled with the wind and the naked trees in the yard creaked and swayed, making the house appear more foreboding than before. The piles of leaves he'd forgotten to bag the day before now lay scattered across the lawn, occasionally being thrust into the air with a sudden poof of wind. The sharp breeze bit his cheeks so they turned red and his eyes watered with the deepening chill.
A light flickered on in the front room and his eyes shifted to that window, unwillingly attracted to the yellow gleam. He saw a divide appear in the blinds, a space that was shortly conquered by his wife's beady eyes and her shrewd glare. He quickly gathered up his coat and umbrella and hastened to the house. The door was opened before he could lay his hand on his keys and he found himself face to face with that penetrating stare.
"Where have you been?" she asked steadily, "It's ten past eight and you missed supper."
"I'm sorry, I - "
"And you left your phone on the counter, again." Her voice went up an octave.
"I know, I feel - "
"And you didn't leave a note or anything, you had me so worried," the words began flowing out quicker and closer together, "I didn't know what to do, whether I should call the police or wait it out or what. I was going to call the police in ten minutes if you hadn't gotten back, " a whine had evolved out of her voice as they entered the house and walked down the hall, "What a mess that would have been, I mean, you're obviously OK, you finally made it home, but if I had called and you had arrived two seconds later, we would have had to waste hours explaining the situation to the police and no doubt they would have fined us for a prank call or something, like we can really afford that right now, especially with all these bills we have to pay because of the new furniture, and with your job, it's not like we're getting anywhere fast. Why couldn't you have just taken the accounting job? You'd make so much more money and we wouldn't have to buy wholesale all the time. What if we're still buying things from Wal-Mart when we have kids? Babies need good, organic foods! And so do I! I can't get fat and bloated by eating chemicals all day, do you know what that would do to my figure? How can I pay for - "
"Why do you worry so much?" Oops, he grimaced just as the last words fell out of his mouth. That wasn't exactly what he had meant to say and clearly the grimace was taken as a look of disgust.
"Why do I worry so much?!" Her pitch rose and the whine transformed into a snarl, "I worry so much because you do stupid things like take off in the middle of the day, without warning, and don't return until hours later, with no explanation of where you've been and why! I have to worry for the both of us because clearly you don't care enough to stay home and take on your share of responsibility, worrying included!"
"Look, I'm sorry, but you didn't even give me a chance to explain."
"Well do so then!" She had started using wild hand gestures and drops of perspiration had appeared just above her eyebrows - he knew she was on the brink of erupting.
"Well, OK, Matt wanted to go to the fair - "
"You put me through all of this just for a stupid kiddie fair?!"
"Let me finish! He didn't want to go by himself so I went with him to the kissing booth - "
"WHAT??"
"But I didn't - "
"You went to a kissing booth?! What do you think I am? A piece of lawn furniture? I am your wife!" Her cheeks were turning red and he felt spittle hitting his face, "Am I only good enough to cook your food and wash your clothes and you can't even come to me for a kiss?!" He figured it was time to start fighting back. This was ridiculous, he hadn't even gotten in line, much less kissed another woman.
"Look, I didn't even get in line - "
"But you were there!"
"Yeah but I didn't kiss anybody!"
"But you could have! Why can't I trust you?"
"Good question, why?!" They glowered at each other for a minute before she stalked off into the kitchen. He felt the heat of her anger dissipate as she left, but his cheeks were still warm from the fight. He watched her grab a knife out of the knife block and proceed to mutilate a green pepper. Her knuckles were white with the force of which she clung to the knife; the muscles in her arms rippled with a purpose under her skin as she violently sliced through the vegetable. Her face was hidden under her thin, brown hair, straight and plain, the only thing that seemed lifeless and indifferent in this moment of livid hatred. He saw her bangs fly up in a huff of frustration, and he could see a single tear clinging to the gentle curve of her cheek, but her eyes still glowed red hot, and they flashed in the reflected light of the knife. Her jaw was set, solid, and clamped shut in fierce determination to keep silent. He followed her, not finished with his argument.
"I promise you, I have never kissed another women since we got married. I simply was doing Matt a favor by going with him. I just stood by, watched, and then we left. I'm mostly late because of the storm. I bought a balloon while I was there because I wanted to bring something nice back to you, but the wind caught it and it blew away. You should only be mad at me because I got home late and didn't let you know where I was and I'm sorry for that, OK? Just give me a break."
"That's all you did?"
"Yes, and it was really boring."
"And you bought me a balloon?" She peeked at him through her bangs.
"Yeah, I though it would be nice and I thought you'd like it."
"What color was it?"
"Pink, your - "
"Favorite." A small smile appeared on her face and she carefully set down the knife. She looked up. "I love you."
"Wait, you're not mad anymore?"
She circled her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. Then she looked into his eyes and whispered, "Why would I be? You're so sweet."
"God, you go through emotions like a chain smoker," he said, a little annoyed, "Why do I put up with you?"
"Let me see if I can remind you..." she pressed her lips to his and they were locked in a passionate kiss. As she pulled away, he understood.
"Look Matt, I have a lot to do today - "
"Come on buddy! I need you there! Gimme some support."
"Dude, it's just a kissing booth, it's not like you need a wingman. This sort of thing is for 10-year-olds and old men who can't get any action. Go to a bar and see what you find there."
"Look, it's for reminiscing, you know, looking back to the good ol' days. Just for fun, man! Come with me, you'll enjoy it."
"You mean you'll enjoy it."
"Whatever, you can feed off the glow of my experience."
So he went. The line was very long. While he waited for Matt, he bought a bright pink balloon because he thought, "She will like this." He hadn't gotten a chance to tell her that he was going out - she had been yelling at a telemarketer on the phone. She would be in a bad mood when he got home so better bring something nice back.
Matt finally got through the line and got his smooch. Now it was raining. It would take him an extra hour to get home because of the weather. It started coming down in torrents and by the time he dropped Matt off, it had already been an hour and a half. She would be extremely anxious now. He realized he had left his cell phone on the counter when he was leaving earlier that day. She would be furious - how many times had she told him to ALWAYS take his phone with him wen he left the house?
10 minutes away and the rain had stopped, but it had become quite gusty outside. He could now see the porch light shining through the mist - it was already 8:00 pm. It had been 6 hours. She would be pacing, biting her nails, debating whether or not to call the police. The balloon would cheer her up - it bobbed safely in the back seat.
He pulled into the driveway and shut off the car. He sat and took a deep breath, bracing himself. He opened the door - WHOOSH - a blast of wind swept through the car, grabbed the balloon, and breezed out again. He stood there gaping, his arms stretched out in an empty grasp - zero balloon. And he stood there with nothing to show for the day; he stood there and thought, "Oh dear."
Ominous thoughts swirled around in his head - what would she do? What would she say? How would she react when he entered the house, hours after supper, with no valid reason for being away so long. His single shred of evidence that would have proved where he had been was gone. He stood there empty-handed, his clothes sagging with the mist, watching the balloon meander through the sky, pitching back and forth in the turbulent bursts of wind.
He turned toward the house and considered it with the fear a child has before entering a haunted mansion. Gray clouds swirled and tumbled with the wind and the naked trees in the yard creaked and swayed, making the house appear more foreboding than before. The piles of leaves he'd forgotten to bag the day before now lay scattered across the lawn, occasionally being thrust into the air with a sudden poof of wind. The sharp breeze bit his cheeks so they turned red and his eyes watered with the deepening chill.
A light flickered on in the front room and his eyes shifted to that window, unwillingly attracted to the yellow gleam. He saw a divide appear in the blinds, a space that was shortly conquered by his wife's beady eyes and her shrewd glare. He quickly gathered up his coat and umbrella and hastened to the house. The door was opened before he could lay his hand on his keys and he found himself face to face with that penetrating stare.
"Where have you been?" she asked steadily, "It's ten past eight and you missed supper."
"I'm sorry, I - "
"And you left your phone on the counter, again." Her voice went up an octave.
"I know, I feel - "
"And you didn't leave a note or anything, you had me so worried," the words began flowing out quicker and closer together, "I didn't know what to do, whether I should call the police or wait it out or what. I was going to call the police in ten minutes if you hadn't gotten back, " a whine had evolved out of her voice as they entered the house and walked down the hall, "What a mess that would have been, I mean, you're obviously OK, you finally made it home, but if I had called and you had arrived two seconds later, we would have had to waste hours explaining the situation to the police and no doubt they would have fined us for a prank call or something, like we can really afford that right now, especially with all these bills we have to pay because of the new furniture, and with your job, it's not like we're getting anywhere fast. Why couldn't you have just taken the accounting job? You'd make so much more money and we wouldn't have to buy wholesale all the time. What if we're still buying things from Wal-Mart when we have kids? Babies need good, organic foods! And so do I! I can't get fat and bloated by eating chemicals all day, do you know what that would do to my figure? How can I pay for - "
"Why do you worry so much?" Oops, he grimaced just as the last words fell out of his mouth. That wasn't exactly what he had meant to say and clearly the grimace was taken as a look of disgust.
"Why do I worry so much?!" Her pitch rose and the whine transformed into a snarl, "I worry so much because you do stupid things like take off in the middle of the day, without warning, and don't return until hours later, with no explanation of where you've been and why! I have to worry for the both of us because clearly you don't care enough to stay home and take on your share of responsibility, worrying included!"
"Look, I'm sorry, but you didn't even give me a chance to explain."
"Well do so then!" She had started using wild hand gestures and drops of perspiration had appeared just above her eyebrows - he knew she was on the brink of erupting.
"Well, OK, Matt wanted to go to the fair - "
"You put me through all of this just for a stupid kiddie fair?!"
"Let me finish! He didn't want to go by himself so I went with him to the kissing booth - "
"WHAT??"
"But I didn't - "
"You went to a kissing booth?! What do you think I am? A piece of lawn furniture? I am your wife!" Her cheeks were turning red and he felt spittle hitting his face, "Am I only good enough to cook your food and wash your clothes and you can't even come to me for a kiss?!" He figured it was time to start fighting back. This was ridiculous, he hadn't even gotten in line, much less kissed another woman.
"Look, I didn't even get in line - "
"But you were there!"
"Yeah but I didn't kiss anybody!"
"But you could have! Why can't I trust you?"
"Good question, why?!" They glowered at each other for a minute before she stalked off into the kitchen. He felt the heat of her anger dissipate as she left, but his cheeks were still warm from the fight. He watched her grab a knife out of the knife block and proceed to mutilate a green pepper. Her knuckles were white with the force of which she clung to the knife; the muscles in her arms rippled with a purpose under her skin as she violently sliced through the vegetable. Her face was hidden under her thin, brown hair, straight and plain, the only thing that seemed lifeless and indifferent in this moment of livid hatred. He saw her bangs fly up in a huff of frustration, and he could see a single tear clinging to the gentle curve of her cheek, but her eyes still glowed red hot, and they flashed in the reflected light of the knife. Her jaw was set, solid, and clamped shut in fierce determination to keep silent. He followed her, not finished with his argument.
"I promise you, I have never kissed another women since we got married. I simply was doing Matt a favor by going with him. I just stood by, watched, and then we left. I'm mostly late because of the storm. I bought a balloon while I was there because I wanted to bring something nice back to you, but the wind caught it and it blew away. You should only be mad at me because I got home late and didn't let you know where I was and I'm sorry for that, OK? Just give me a break."
"That's all you did?"
"Yes, and it was really boring."
"And you bought me a balloon?" She peeked at him through her bangs.
"Yeah, I though it would be nice and I thought you'd like it."
"What color was it?"
"Pink, your - "
"Favorite." A small smile appeared on her face and she carefully set down the knife. She looked up. "I love you."
"Wait, you're not mad anymore?"
She circled her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. Then she looked into his eyes and whispered, "Why would I be? You're so sweet."
"God, you go through emotions like a chain smoker," he said, a little annoyed, "Why do I put up with you?"
"Let me see if I can remind you..." she pressed her lips to his and they were locked in a passionate kiss. As she pulled away, he understood.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Character...
They glowered at each other for a minute before she stalked off into the kitchen. He felt the heat of her anger dissipate as she left, but his cheeks were still warm from the fight. He watched her grab a knife out of the knife block and proceed to mutilate a green pepper. Her knuckles were white with the force of which she clung to the knife; the muscles in her arms rippled with a purpose under her skin as she violently sliced through the vegetable. Her face was hidden under her thin, brown hair, straight and plain, the only ting that seemed lifeless and indifferent in this moment of livid hatred. He saw her bangs fly up in a huff of frustration, and he could see a single tear clinging to the gentle curve of her cheek, but her eyes still glowed red hot, and they flashed in the reflected light of the knife. Her jaw was set, solid, and clamped shut in fierce determination to keep silent. He followed her, not finished with his argument.
Setting...
He stood there, empty-handed, his clothes sagging with the mist, watching the balloon meander through the sky, pitching back and forth in the turbulent bursts of wind. He turned toward the house and considered it with the fear a child has before entering a haunted mansion. Gray clouds swirled and tumbled with the wind and the naked trees in the yard creaked and swayed, making the house appear more foreboding than before. The piles of leaves he'd forgotten to bag the day before now lay scattered across the lawn, occasionally being thrusted into the air with a sudden poof of wind. The sharp breeze bit his cheeks so they turned red and his eyes watered with the deepening chill. A light flickered on in the front room and his eyes shifted to that window, unwillingly attracted to the yellow gleam. He saw a divide appear in the blinds, a space that was shortly conquered by his wife's beady eyes and her shrewd glare.
Reflective Essay
To be diverse is to have an absence of uniformity. With an absence of uniformity, we can experience traits, opinions, and situations other than our own, which help us to develop new traits, form new opinions, and encounter new situations. These changes are what keep our world progressing forward. The summer before my freshman year of high school, I came up against such a situation that altered my perspective on humanity. It was a situation of service that threw the meaning and importance of diversity in my face.
My youth group went up to Tennessee to work with an organization called the Appalachian Service Project, ASP for short. ASP works with impoverished families living in and around the Appalachian Mts. They help construct homes, literally and figuratively, around these families, providing support in whatever way they can. We were assigned to the Phillips family. Our job was to see if we could return running water to the one bathroom, add doors to the two bedrooms, replace warped paneling, and put flashing around the chimney on the roof (the lack of flashing is what damaged the paneling in the first place).
The first time I walked through the door of their tiny, rundown dwelling, I thought to myself, "What disaster has happened here?" The entire house was packed in with useless junk that had a single trail made out so that one could walk through without tripping. This is when I truly grasped the fact that not everybody lives the same way I do. However, just as pity began to seep into my mind, I stepped over the threshold and smelled… fried chicken. And biscuits. Think of the best chicken biscuit you've ever had and multiply its goodness by ten. Then add three smiling, genuinely warm-hearted people into the mix and you've got contentment. Mr. Phillips, Ms. Phillips, and Patricia make up one of the happiest, most satisfied families you could ever meet.
Despite their not-so-perfect living condition, they have a superb vegetable garden from which they get a majority of their food. Mr. Phillips, even though he is dreadfully poor, gives away baskets of tomatoes and peppers to family and friends instead of selling them. As he put it, "I just feel like it's nice to do. I like giving away my tomatoes. People like them." They also boast an impressive flock of chickens and keep a pig or two. I was amazed at how they could take such good care of these animals and not of their house or themselves.
What I learned is that these things are not what mattered. What was important was how these people accepted what they had and were thankful for it. I had expected this family to be sad and desperate. I had imagined ourselves as something like heroes coming in the nick of time to save their house and save their lives. But I was wrong. These people were happy, satisfied, and at peace with the world. They simply have their share of troubles just like anyone else and occasionally they might need help. That was our job; to give them the boost they needed so that they could continue on with their lives. They didn't so much worry about the material things, but regarded life and love seriously and did not take them for granted. They were happy with their lives overall, just not with their house. There's nothing bad or wrong with the way they're living, it's solely our perception of what is good and what is bad that is wrong. I learned that material items do not matter nearly as much as how you lead your life and appreciate the people close to you.
My youth group went up to Tennessee to work with an organization called the Appalachian Service Project, ASP for short. ASP works with impoverished families living in and around the Appalachian Mts. They help construct homes, literally and figuratively, around these families, providing support in whatever way they can. We were assigned to the Phillips family. Our job was to see if we could return running water to the one bathroom, add doors to the two bedrooms, replace warped paneling, and put flashing around the chimney on the roof (the lack of flashing is what damaged the paneling in the first place).
The first time I walked through the door of their tiny, rundown dwelling, I thought to myself, "What disaster has happened here?" The entire house was packed in with useless junk that had a single trail made out so that one could walk through without tripping. This is when I truly grasped the fact that not everybody lives the same way I do. However, just as pity began to seep into my mind, I stepped over the threshold and smelled… fried chicken. And biscuits. Think of the best chicken biscuit you've ever had and multiply its goodness by ten. Then add three smiling, genuinely warm-hearted people into the mix and you've got contentment. Mr. Phillips, Ms. Phillips, and Patricia make up one of the happiest, most satisfied families you could ever meet.
Despite their not-so-perfect living condition, they have a superb vegetable garden from which they get a majority of their food. Mr. Phillips, even though he is dreadfully poor, gives away baskets of tomatoes and peppers to family and friends instead of selling them. As he put it, "I just feel like it's nice to do. I like giving away my tomatoes. People like them." They also boast an impressive flock of chickens and keep a pig or two. I was amazed at how they could take such good care of these animals and not of their house or themselves.
What I learned is that these things are not what mattered. What was important was how these people accepted what they had and were thankful for it. I had expected this family to be sad and desperate. I had imagined ourselves as something like heroes coming in the nick of time to save their house and save their lives. But I was wrong. These people were happy, satisfied, and at peace with the world. They simply have their share of troubles just like anyone else and occasionally they might need help. That was our job; to give them the boost they needed so that they could continue on with their lives. They didn't so much worry about the material things, but regarded life and love seriously and did not take them for granted. They were happy with their lives overall, just not with their house. There's nothing bad or wrong with the way they're living, it's solely our perception of what is good and what is bad that is wrong. I learned that material items do not matter nearly as much as how you lead your life and appreciate the people close to you.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Dialogo
He had been gone an hour. She would be worried, or suspicious. How was she to know what he had been up to? The balloon was his only proof. He had gone with his friend to the fair because his friend wanted to visit the kissing booth, but didn't want to go alone.
"Look Matt, I have a lot to do today - "
"Come on buddy! I need you there! Gimme some support."
"Dude, it's just a kissing booth, it's not like you need a wingman. This sort of thing is for 10-year-olds and old men who can't get any action. Go to a bar and see what you find there."
"Look, it's for reminiscing, you know, looking back to the good ol' days. Just for fun, man! Come with me, you'll enjoy it."
"You mean you'll enjoy it."
"Whatever, you can feed off the glow of my experience."
So he went. The line was very long.
"Look Matt, I have a lot to do today - "
"Come on buddy! I need you there! Gimme some support."
"Dude, it's just a kissing booth, it's not like you need a wingman. This sort of thing is for 10-year-olds and old men who can't get any action. Go to a bar and see what you find there."
"Look, it's for reminiscing, you know, looking back to the good ol' days. Just for fun, man! Come with me, you'll enjoy it."
"You mean you'll enjoy it."
"Whatever, you can feed off the glow of my experience."
So he went. The line was very long.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Sarah's Situation
Sarah was drifting in and out of consciousness by the second; why couldn't she hold onto reality? She couldn't take it anymore and she let go and the blackness took over. It was hours later when she finally awoke with a monster headache. She whimpered and slowly sat up. Her head throbbed and she soon loss her sense of balance and crumpled to the ground. What had happened? She'd simply gone out to the woods to find Brownie, her cat, before dark; she was always worried that he would get lost in the night. She'd taken her flashlight with the baggy of extra batteries, just in case the light died while she was out. She wore her thick, rubber, rain boots (never know what you might step in in those woods) and carried out an umbrella (what if there was a sudden monsoon?). She'd been walking along when she heard a small noise - maybe that was Brownie. She took a few steps off the path, but not too many, she didn't want to get lost. Then it happened - a hard, blunt object hit her head. She stumbled and fell to her knees - she was too shocked to scream. She fought maddeningly to hold onto consciousness to see who would do such a thing, but there was no one around, and she couldn't stand it much longer, and that's when she gave in to the darkness.
Now she was awake, unable to do anything but lay on the ground. She realized it was dark and she shivered. Where was her flashlight? She hated the dark, she didn't want to move, afraid she's roll on top of a snake or squirrel or whatever other creepy-crawlies lived on the floor of the forest. She tried searching with her eyes, but that didn't matter, all she wanted to do was get off this dirty ground and find some light.
Now she was awake, unable to do anything but lay on the ground. She realized it was dark and she shivered. Where was her flashlight? She hated the dark, she didn't want to move, afraid she's roll on top of a snake or squirrel or whatever other creepy-crawlies lived on the floor of the forest. She tried searching with her eyes, but that didn't matter, all she wanted to do was get off this dirty ground and find some light.
Her Monologue
Where have you been? You were gone so long! And you didn't leave a note or anything, you had me so worried. I didn't know what to do, whether I should call the police or just wait for you or what. I was going to call the police in ten minutes if you hadn't gotten back; what a mess that would have been, I mean, you're obviously OK, you finally made it home. But if I had called and you had arrived two seconds later, we would have had to waste hours explaining the situation to the police and no doubt they would have fined us for a prank call or something, like we can really afford that right now, especially with all these bills we have to pay because of the new furniture and the appliances and the car, and with your job, it's not like we're getting anywhere fast. Why couldn't you have just taken the accounting job? You'd make so much more money and we wouldn't have to buy wholesale all the time. What if we're still buying things from Wal-Mart when we have kids? Babies need good, organic foods! And so do I! I can't get fat and bloated by eating chemicals all day, do you know what that would do to my figure? How can I pay for a gym membership with the money you make? I'm on my feet 4 hours a day, 3 days a week, dealing with irritated linen buyers left and right, and I get such awful headaches - and then I have to come home and take care of you, which is not easy, but if you come home late all the time, how can I depend on you? What am I going to do?
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Don't think of water...
She was wriggling and shifting, she couldn't sit still; the seconds seemed to take minutes to pass and the flabby lady next to her was slurping through her straw like an elephant would its trunk, it was disgusting and it just made her more nervous; she didn't know if she could do it or wait any longer, what if no one ever came, what if she was just left standing here, left to live in this agitated state; the men were walking in and out as consistently as the clock ticks, but the women were made to wait; some of them looked as bad as she did, all curled up, rocking back and forth, waiting... and then finally! The janitor removed the broken lock and she surged forward into the bathroom.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Part 2
Ominous thoughts swirled around in his head - what would she do? What would she say? How would she react when he entered the house, hours after supper, with no valid reason for being away so long. His single shred of evidence that would have proved where he had been was gone. He stood there empty-handed, his clothes sagging with the mist, watching the balloon meander through the sky, pitching back and forth in the turbulent bursts of wind.
He turned toward the house. A light flickered on in the front room and he a saw a divide appear in the blinds, a space that was shortly conquered by his wife's beady eyes and her shrewd glare. He quickly gathered up his coat and umbrella and hastened to the house. The door was opened before he could lay his hand on his keys and he found himself face to face with that penetrating stare.
"Where have you been?" she asked steadily, "It's ten past eight and you missed supper."
"I'm sorry, I - "
"And you left your phone on the counter, again." Her voice went up an octave.
"I know, I feel - "
"And you didn't leave a note or anything, you had me so worried," the words began flowing out quicker and closer together, "I didn't know what to do, whether I should call the police or wait it out or what. I was going to call the police in ten minutes if you hadn't gotten back, " a whine had evolved out of her voice as they entered the house and walked down the hall, "What a mess that would have been, I mean, you're obviously OK, you finally made it home, but if I had called and you had arrived two seconds later, we would have had to waste hours explaining the situation to the police and no doubt they would have fined us for a prank call or something, like we can really afford that right now, especially with all these bills we have to pay because of the new furniture, and with your job, it's not like we're getting anywhere fast - "
"Why do you worry so much?" Oops, he grimaced just as the last words fell out of his mouth. That wasn't exactly what he had meant to say and clearly the grimace was taken as a look of disgust.
"Why do I worry so much?!" Her pitch rose and the whine transformed into a snarl, "I worry so much because you do stupid things like take off in the middle of the day, without warning, and don't return until hours later, with no explanation of where you've been and why! I have to worry for the both of us because clearly you don't care enough to stay home and take on your share of responsibility, worrying included!"
"Look, I'm sorry, but you didn't even give me a chance to explain."
"Well do so then!" She had started the wild hand gestures and drops of perspiration had appeared just above her eyebrows - he knew she was on the brink of erupting.
"Well, OK, Matt wanted to go to the fair - "
"You put me through all of this just for a stupid kiddie fair?!"
"Let me finish! He didn't want to go by himself so I went with him to the kissing booth - "
"WHAT??"
"But I didn't - "
"You went to a kissing booth?! What do you think I am? A piece of lawn furniture? I am your wife!" Her face was turning red and he felt spitle hitting his face, "Am I only good enough to cook your food and wash your clothes and you can't even come to me for a kiss?!" He figured it was time to start fighting back. This was ridiculous, he hadn't even gotten in line, much less kissed another woman.
"Look, I didn't even get in line - "
"But you were there!"
"Yeah but I didn't kiss anybody!"
"But you could have! Why can't I trust you?"
"Good question, why?!" They glowered at each other for a minute before she stalked off huffing into the kitchen. He followed her, not finished with his argument.
"I promise you, I have never kissed another women since we got married. I simply was doing Matt a favor by going with him. I just stood by, watched, and then we left. I'm mostly late because of the storm. I bought a balloon while I was there because I wanted to bring something nice back to you, but the wind caught it and it blew away. You should only be mad at me because I got home late and didn't let you know where I was and I'm sorry for that, OK? Just give me a break."
"You bought me a balloon?" She peeked at him through her bangs.
"Yes, I though it would be nice and I though you'd like it."
"What color was it?"
"Pink, your - "
"Favorite." She was looking at him with awe, like she'd never seen anything more beautiful than him before.
"I love you." She skipped toward him and squeezed him tight. Then she looked into his eyes and whispered, "You're so good to me." Geez, he thought, she's so emotionally unstable, why do I put up with her? But he couldn't complete his thought, she pressed her lips to his and they were locked in a passionate kiss. As she pulled away, he understood.
He turned toward the house. A light flickered on in the front room and he a saw a divide appear in the blinds, a space that was shortly conquered by his wife's beady eyes and her shrewd glare. He quickly gathered up his coat and umbrella and hastened to the house. The door was opened before he could lay his hand on his keys and he found himself face to face with that penetrating stare.
"Where have you been?" she asked steadily, "It's ten past eight and you missed supper."
"I'm sorry, I - "
"And you left your phone on the counter, again." Her voice went up an octave.
"I know, I feel - "
"And you didn't leave a note or anything, you had me so worried," the words began flowing out quicker and closer together, "I didn't know what to do, whether I should call the police or wait it out or what. I was going to call the police in ten minutes if you hadn't gotten back, " a whine had evolved out of her voice as they entered the house and walked down the hall, "What a mess that would have been, I mean, you're obviously OK, you finally made it home, but if I had called and you had arrived two seconds later, we would have had to waste hours explaining the situation to the police and no doubt they would have fined us for a prank call or something, like we can really afford that right now, especially with all these bills we have to pay because of the new furniture, and with your job, it's not like we're getting anywhere fast - "
"Why do you worry so much?" Oops, he grimaced just as the last words fell out of his mouth. That wasn't exactly what he had meant to say and clearly the grimace was taken as a look of disgust.
"Why do I worry so much?!" Her pitch rose and the whine transformed into a snarl, "I worry so much because you do stupid things like take off in the middle of the day, without warning, and don't return until hours later, with no explanation of where you've been and why! I have to worry for the both of us because clearly you don't care enough to stay home and take on your share of responsibility, worrying included!"
"Look, I'm sorry, but you didn't even give me a chance to explain."
"Well do so then!" She had started the wild hand gestures and drops of perspiration had appeared just above her eyebrows - he knew she was on the brink of erupting.
"Well, OK, Matt wanted to go to the fair - "
"You put me through all of this just for a stupid kiddie fair?!"
"Let me finish! He didn't want to go by himself so I went with him to the kissing booth - "
"WHAT??"
"But I didn't - "
"You went to a kissing booth?! What do you think I am? A piece of lawn furniture? I am your wife!" Her face was turning red and he felt spitle hitting his face, "Am I only good enough to cook your food and wash your clothes and you can't even come to me for a kiss?!" He figured it was time to start fighting back. This was ridiculous, he hadn't even gotten in line, much less kissed another woman.
"Look, I didn't even get in line - "
"But you were there!"
"Yeah but I didn't kiss anybody!"
"But you could have! Why can't I trust you?"
"Good question, why?!" They glowered at each other for a minute before she stalked off huffing into the kitchen. He followed her, not finished with his argument.
"I promise you, I have never kissed another women since we got married. I simply was doing Matt a favor by going with him. I just stood by, watched, and then we left. I'm mostly late because of the storm. I bought a balloon while I was there because I wanted to bring something nice back to you, but the wind caught it and it blew away. You should only be mad at me because I got home late and didn't let you know where I was and I'm sorry for that, OK? Just give me a break."
"You bought me a balloon?" She peeked at him through her bangs.
"Yes, I though it would be nice and I though you'd like it."
"What color was it?"
"Pink, your - "
"Favorite." She was looking at him with awe, like she'd never seen anything more beautiful than him before.
"I love you." She skipped toward him and squeezed him tight. Then she looked into his eyes and whispered, "You're so good to me." Geez, he thought, she's so emotionally unstable, why do I put up with her? But he couldn't complete his thought, she pressed her lips to his and they were locked in a passionate kiss. As she pulled away, he understood.
The Shaggy Dog
Poor pup, outside in the rain, all alone. His name was Spot and he was smelly, dirty, and had a shaggy coat of fur, but it was mainly his stench that drove people away. However, he had a friendly disposition, and people took pity on him. They fed him food scraps and occasionally gave him a safe place to sleep (depending on how well they could tolerate the odor), but no one could ever take the smell long enough to keep him. They tried bathing him, they tried perfumes; one lady even completely shaved him, but the stink seemed to radiate out of his skin. So he would always end up back in the streets, begging for food and companionship.
It was a rainy Thursday when Spot met Johnny. Johnny, a small nine-year-old who lost his sense of smell at birth, saw Spot curled up under a tiny overhang in front of an abandoned restaurant. Spot was fast asleep, but awoke to find a tiny boy patting his head.
"Come on boy." Johnny held out his hand and Spot licked it. Spot got up and he and Johnny walked down the street to the townhouse where Johnny lived.
"Quick, get inside! If dad sees you, you'll get thrown out!" Spot trotted inside like any happy dog would when invited into a warm, dry home. He and Johnny ran upstairs, just as Johnny's dad walked through the door.
"Hi Johnny! Ugh, what is that smell??"
"Don't know what you mean dad!" Johnny yelled back.
"What have you been doing all day? Playing in the dumpster?"
"I don't smell anything." Johnny mumbled sarcastically.
"What?"
"I don't know what you smell, sorry!" Johnny took Spot into his room and shut the door.
"Stay here and I'll bring some food up for you later." Johnny left the room. Spot didn't really understand what was going on, but the bed looked soft and cozy so he curled up on that and went to sleep. Johnny didn't return for an hour or so, but the smell of supper woke Spot up.
"Here you go puppy. You look hungry. Oh, look, you have a tag." Spot was gobbling up the food and slobbering all over the bed sheets.
"It says, 'SPOT.'" Spot paused and looked up. The boy knew his name.
"That must be your name then," said Johnny. Spot went back to eating.
"There's no address or anything else on here. I wonder why no one owns you..." Johnny sat thinking, absentmindedly stroking Spot's mangy head. Spot had finished eating and was looking at Johnny with soft eyes, his eyelids fluttering - being petted felt so good and so comforting! He could rest his head in this boy's lap for eternity and be content.
"Johnny! What is this?" Johnny's dad had come in. Spot looked around, surprised, and pricked up his ears. Johnny looked startled.
"He's just a dog dad! He's really sweet and tame. He was alone and hungry out in the ran. His name is Spot."
"He smells like a pig barn! Get him out of the house!"
"I don't smell him."
"That's enough smart comments from you, now get him off of your bed and downstairs." Spot whimpered, not out of sadness, just out of exasperation. Here we go again, he thought, back outside - at least I got a good meal and a nice place to nap a bit this time. He leaped off the bed and started down the stairs.
"No Spot!" Spot stopped, confused. He thought he was supposed to leave. Johnny looked at him with pleading eyes.
"Go Spot!" A bigger voice rang out, more authoritative and menacing. Johnny's dad was coming toward Spot with his face screwed up due to the stench. So Spot continued down the stairs, Johnny's dad right behind him and Johnny trying to push past his dad. At the bottom of the stairs, Johnny's dad opened the front door.
"Out Spot," he said, pinching his noise.
"No Spot, stay!"
"Johnny cut it out! We can't afford a dog, much less live with one that smells like this!"
"We can wash him! He can eat my leftovers - "
"No Johnny! Out Spot, out!" Spot turned toward the door and started to leave, but felt a hand grab his tail. He spun around and found himself face to face with Johnny. Johnny planted a kiss on Spot's head.
"See you 'round Spot," he whispered.
Johnny's dad, pushed to his limits shouted, "Out damned Spot, out!"
It was a rainy Thursday when Spot met Johnny. Johnny, a small nine-year-old who lost his sense of smell at birth, saw Spot curled up under a tiny overhang in front of an abandoned restaurant. Spot was fast asleep, but awoke to find a tiny boy patting his head.
"Come on boy." Johnny held out his hand and Spot licked it. Spot got up and he and Johnny walked down the street to the townhouse where Johnny lived.
"Quick, get inside! If dad sees you, you'll get thrown out!" Spot trotted inside like any happy dog would when invited into a warm, dry home. He and Johnny ran upstairs, just as Johnny's dad walked through the door.
"Hi Johnny! Ugh, what is that smell??"
"Don't know what you mean dad!" Johnny yelled back.
"What have you been doing all day? Playing in the dumpster?"
"I don't smell anything." Johnny mumbled sarcastically.
"What?"
"I don't know what you smell, sorry!" Johnny took Spot into his room and shut the door.
"Stay here and I'll bring some food up for you later." Johnny left the room. Spot didn't really understand what was going on, but the bed looked soft and cozy so he curled up on that and went to sleep. Johnny didn't return for an hour or so, but the smell of supper woke Spot up.
"Here you go puppy. You look hungry. Oh, look, you have a tag." Spot was gobbling up the food and slobbering all over the bed sheets.
"It says, 'SPOT.'" Spot paused and looked up. The boy knew his name.
"That must be your name then," said Johnny. Spot went back to eating.
"There's no address or anything else on here. I wonder why no one owns you..." Johnny sat thinking, absentmindedly stroking Spot's mangy head. Spot had finished eating and was looking at Johnny with soft eyes, his eyelids fluttering - being petted felt so good and so comforting! He could rest his head in this boy's lap for eternity and be content.
"Johnny! What is this?" Johnny's dad had come in. Spot looked around, surprised, and pricked up his ears. Johnny looked startled.
"He's just a dog dad! He's really sweet and tame. He was alone and hungry out in the ran. His name is Spot."
"He smells like a pig barn! Get him out of the house!"
"I don't smell him."
"That's enough smart comments from you, now get him off of your bed and downstairs." Spot whimpered, not out of sadness, just out of exasperation. Here we go again, he thought, back outside - at least I got a good meal and a nice place to nap a bit this time. He leaped off the bed and started down the stairs.
"No Spot!" Spot stopped, confused. He thought he was supposed to leave. Johnny looked at him with pleading eyes.
"Go Spot!" A bigger voice rang out, more authoritative and menacing. Johnny's dad was coming toward Spot with his face screwed up due to the stench. So Spot continued down the stairs, Johnny's dad right behind him and Johnny trying to push past his dad. At the bottom of the stairs, Johnny's dad opened the front door.
"Out Spot," he said, pinching his noise.
"No Spot, stay!"
"Johnny cut it out! We can't afford a dog, much less live with one that smells like this!"
"We can wash him! He can eat my leftovers - "
"No Johnny! Out Spot, out!" Spot turned toward the door and started to leave, but felt a hand grab his tail. He spun around and found himself face to face with Johnny. Johnny planted a kiss on Spot's head.
"See you 'round Spot," he whispered.
Johnny's dad, pushed to his limits shouted, "Out damned Spot, out!"
Sunday, September 13, 2009
For What It's Worth
It was a drizzly day in the town of Persopolis. Carl was bored; he couldn't go outside and play catch with his friends. He had been so excited to show Davy, Mike, and Seth his new, autographed baseball. But he woke up this morning to see the gray blanket of clouds that lay across the city that caused the pitter-patter of raindrops against his window.
So Carl simply sat on his bed, wearing his baseball has, just in case the sun came out. He turned the ball in his hands, reading the names of the players written there. Occasionally he would toss it up and down a few times before examining the cursive letters once more.
Carl's stomach rumbled. He suddenly realized that in his haste to get dressed this morning (so that he could run out as soon as the rain stopped) he'd forgotten to eat breakfast. Sighing, he slid off the bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
His mom had gone to get a haircut, but she'd left out some food for Carl: bread and butter for toast and orange juice to drink. Withing minutes Carl had devoured these but his stomach still begged for food. Something was missing from the meal... then it hit him. Carl was missing his apple. Every morning Carl had one piece of fruit and the only fruit he really like was an apple. He looked all around the kitchen, searching for the finishing touch to his breakfast, but the fruit bowl was no where insight. It occurred to him that his mom must have forgotten to take it down from the shelf, and sure enough, he could barely see the lip of it sticking out over the top shelf.
Grumbling, he stared up at it, tapping his foot impatiently. He then approached the counter and climed on top of it. He stood on his tippy-toes and stretched upward. Even then only his fingertips touched the bottom of the bowl. Disappointed, he climbed back down and started thinking again... he could use a stool from the bar in the basement. He trudged downstairs, grabbed a stool and lugged it back up to the kitchen. Standing on top of it he couldn't even reach the shelf - another failed attempt.
He sat down on the the stool puzzled... how could he get up there? His stomach made another pitiful moan - he had to get that apple. Then he remembered: there was a stepping stool in the laundry room - it was taller than the counter plus he could get on top of it easily. He retrieved it and placed it directly under the bowl. Slowly he climbed up the steps until, still one step from the top, he was able to reach the bowl. He placed his hands around it and lifted, but it didn't budge. He tried again, pushing underneath it, but to no avail. It was too heavy for Carl to pick up.
No matter, he thought, he could simply take the apple back down with him - that would save him the trouble of having to put the bowl back later anyway. He started to grab the apple but felt the bowl begin to tip so he let go and the apple fell back into the bowl; it steadied. Carl tried rolling the apple out the side but the bowl continued to rock so he stopped. Clearly the bowl was off balance; what could he use to replace the weight of the apple? His stomach growled - he needed that apple, and soon.
Then it came to him, though it was an unfortunate thought. His baseball, his priceless, autographed baseball, was the same size, same shape, and roughly the same weight as the apple. He slowly pulled it out of his pocket and stared at it. Could he give this up? Could he sacrifice something so valuable to him? His belly reminded him at that moment that sometimes food is of more worth than material things. Carefully Carl held the baseball slightly above the bowl with one hand and placed the other hand on the apple. With one fluid movement he swapped the two without the bowl rocking an inch. At last, he had his apple. He stared at it with admiration and pride as he made his way down the step stool. When he made it to the bottom he took one, huge bit out of the apple, causing juice to run down his chin. Licking his lips, he glanced back up at the fruit bowl, wondering if it was worth it. Sucking the juice out of the second bite, he decided yes.
So Carl simply sat on his bed, wearing his baseball has, just in case the sun came out. He turned the ball in his hands, reading the names of the players written there. Occasionally he would toss it up and down a few times before examining the cursive letters once more.
Carl's stomach rumbled. He suddenly realized that in his haste to get dressed this morning (so that he could run out as soon as the rain stopped) he'd forgotten to eat breakfast. Sighing, he slid off the bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
His mom had gone to get a haircut, but she'd left out some food for Carl: bread and butter for toast and orange juice to drink. Withing minutes Carl had devoured these but his stomach still begged for food. Something was missing from the meal... then it hit him. Carl was missing his apple. Every morning Carl had one piece of fruit and the only fruit he really like was an apple. He looked all around the kitchen, searching for the finishing touch to his breakfast, but the fruit bowl was no where insight. It occurred to him that his mom must have forgotten to take it down from the shelf, and sure enough, he could barely see the lip of it sticking out over the top shelf.
Grumbling, he stared up at it, tapping his foot impatiently. He then approached the counter and climed on top of it. He stood on his tippy-toes and stretched upward. Even then only his fingertips touched the bottom of the bowl. Disappointed, he climbed back down and started thinking again... he could use a stool from the bar in the basement. He trudged downstairs, grabbed a stool and lugged it back up to the kitchen. Standing on top of it he couldn't even reach the shelf - another failed attempt.
He sat down on the the stool puzzled... how could he get up there? His stomach made another pitiful moan - he had to get that apple. Then he remembered: there was a stepping stool in the laundry room - it was taller than the counter plus he could get on top of it easily. He retrieved it and placed it directly under the bowl. Slowly he climbed up the steps until, still one step from the top, he was able to reach the bowl. He placed his hands around it and lifted, but it didn't budge. He tried again, pushing underneath it, but to no avail. It was too heavy for Carl to pick up.
No matter, he thought, he could simply take the apple back down with him - that would save him the trouble of having to put the bowl back later anyway. He started to grab the apple but felt the bowl begin to tip so he let go and the apple fell back into the bowl; it steadied. Carl tried rolling the apple out the side but the bowl continued to rock so he stopped. Clearly the bowl was off balance; what could he use to replace the weight of the apple? His stomach growled - he needed that apple, and soon.
Then it came to him, though it was an unfortunate thought. His baseball, his priceless, autographed baseball, was the same size, same shape, and roughly the same weight as the apple. He slowly pulled it out of his pocket and stared at it. Could he give this up? Could he sacrifice something so valuable to him? His belly reminded him at that moment that sometimes food is of more worth than material things. Carefully Carl held the baseball slightly above the bowl with one hand and placed the other hand on the apple. With one fluid movement he swapped the two without the bowl rocking an inch. At last, he had his apple. He stared at it with admiration and pride as he made his way down the step stool. When he made it to the bottom he took one, huge bit out of the apple, causing juice to run down his chin. Licking his lips, he glanced back up at the fruit bowl, wondering if it was worth it. Sucking the juice out of the second bite, he decided yes.
Fast Food
Sirens blaring, lights flashing, they raced down the street.
"This was a 36PZ2 call?"
"Yup."
"Damn, punch the gas!"
The firetruck whizzed through a stop light causing drivers to slam on their brakes. They pulled in front of Poppy's Pizza - it was ablaze with light.
"It's still hot!"
"Good."
They drove away with their dinner.
"This was a 36PZ2 call?"
"Yup."
"Damn, punch the gas!"
The firetruck whizzed through a stop light causing drivers to slam on their brakes. They pulled in front of Poppy's Pizza - it was ablaze with light.
"It's still hot!"
"Good."
They drove away with their dinner.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Inconceivable Situation
He had been gone an hour. She would be worried, or suspicious. How was she to know what he had been up to? The balloon was his only proof. He had gone with his friend to the fair because his friend wanted to visit the kissing booth, but didn't want to go alone. The line was very long. While he waited for his friend, he bought a bright pink balloon because he thought, "She will like this." He hadn't gotten a chance to tell her that he was going out - she had been yelling at a telemarketer on the phone. She would be in a bad mood when he got home so better bring something nice back.
His friend finally got through the line and got his smooch. Now it was raining. It would take him an extra 30 minutes to get home because of the weather. It started coming down in torrents and by the time he dropped his friend off, it had already been 45 minutes. She would be extremely anxious now. He realized he had left his cell phone on the counter when he was leaving earlier that day. She would be furious - how many times had she told him to ALWAYS take his phone with him wen he left the house?
10 minutes away and the rain had stopped, but it had become quite gusty outside. He could now see the porch light shining through the mist - it was already 8:00 pm. It had been 6 hours. She would be pacing, biting her nails, debating whether or not to call the police. The balloon would cheer her up - it sat safely in the back seat.
He pulled into the driveway and shut off the car. He sat and took a deep breath, bracing himself. He opened the door - WHOOSH - a blast of wind swept through the car, grabbed the balloon, and breezed out again. He stood there gaping, his arms stretched out in an empty grasp - zero balloon. And he stood there with nothing to show for the day; he stood there and thought, "Oh dear."
His friend finally got through the line and got his smooch. Now it was raining. It would take him an extra 30 minutes to get home because of the weather. It started coming down in torrents and by the time he dropped his friend off, it had already been 45 minutes. She would be extremely anxious now. He realized he had left his cell phone on the counter when he was leaving earlier that day. She would be furious - how many times had she told him to ALWAYS take his phone with him wen he left the house?
10 minutes away and the rain had stopped, but it had become quite gusty outside. He could now see the porch light shining through the mist - it was already 8:00 pm. It had been 6 hours. She would be pacing, biting her nails, debating whether or not to call the police. The balloon would cheer her up - it sat safely in the back seat.
He pulled into the driveway and shut off the car. He sat and took a deep breath, bracing himself. He opened the door - WHOOSH - a blast of wind swept through the car, grabbed the balloon, and breezed out again. He stood there gaping, his arms stretched out in an empty grasp - zero balloon. And he stood there with nothing to show for the day; he stood there and thought, "Oh dear."
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Sestina Storm
Dark, gloomy, shades of gray
Blowing in from the North.
Suppressing my space, clouding my air,
With bolts of lightening and shattering booms,
And pellets of water come crashing down
Making an outdoor day indoors.
By the window indoors,
I fade into the blankets of gray.
They fall to the earth, down, down,
Then tossed up again by the playful wind of the North.
So soft, so silent, then jolted by a crash and boom.
It makes my heart race, my spirit flutter, breathing this air.
Looks thick and sticky, yet it's surprisingly crisp, invigorating air.
Easy to breath outside, but hard to get indoors.
The house shakes, the beams creak after the resounding boom.
The monsters roll in, darker and darker gray
Rolling in from the deep, dark North
To catch us off guard, speeding down.
The rain is hurling down,
This water is stealing my air.
The snowmelt from the North,
Icy and wet, luckily cannot penetrate indoors.
By the cozy fire I simply admire the gray,
And lend an ear to the lamenting booms.
On and on, splish, splash, flash and boom,
The day is now winding down.
The sky's not quite black, but fathomless gray,
An eerie stillness claims the air,
One that one can even feel indoors,
Though wind's still whipping 'round the house, pulsing from the North.
Then silence creeps in from the North.
Fading away are those once faithful booms.
Rest comes upon me, soothing, I am safe indoors.
Lightly the drops come down, down,
Tapping the windows, sprinkling the air.
All is encompassed in gray.
Snug and warm indoors, I lay down.
Night falling from the North, gone are the booms.
Inhale the sweet, clear, stormy air, and my eyes close to gray.
Blowing in from the North.
Suppressing my space, clouding my air,
With bolts of lightening and shattering booms,
And pellets of water come crashing down
Making an outdoor day indoors.
By the window indoors,
I fade into the blankets of gray.
They fall to the earth, down, down,
Then tossed up again by the playful wind of the North.
So soft, so silent, then jolted by a crash and boom.
It makes my heart race, my spirit flutter, breathing this air.
Looks thick and sticky, yet it's surprisingly crisp, invigorating air.
Easy to breath outside, but hard to get indoors.
The house shakes, the beams creak after the resounding boom.
The monsters roll in, darker and darker gray
Rolling in from the deep, dark North
To catch us off guard, speeding down.
The rain is hurling down,
This water is stealing my air.
The snowmelt from the North,
Icy and wet, luckily cannot penetrate indoors.
By the cozy fire I simply admire the gray,
And lend an ear to the lamenting booms.
On and on, splish, splash, flash and boom,
The day is now winding down.
The sky's not quite black, but fathomless gray,
An eerie stillness claims the air,
One that one can even feel indoors,
Though wind's still whipping 'round the house, pulsing from the North.
Then silence creeps in from the North.
Fading away are those once faithful booms.
Rest comes upon me, soothing, I am safe indoors.
Lightly the drops come down, down,
Tapping the windows, sprinkling the air.
All is encompassed in gray.
Snug and warm indoors, I lay down.
Night falling from the North, gone are the booms.
Inhale the sweet, clear, stormy air, and my eyes close to gray.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Little Red Love
Why do I love thee? Let me explain it.
I fell in love with your soft rosy cheeks
I could sit still and stare at you for weeks
But could I keep control of both my mitts?
Alas, I do not think I could stand it
Not caressing your smooth, sweet, plump, red cheeks.
They call to me with small delicious squeaks
To this dear love, my life I must submit.
Forever then you'd disappear, be gone.
Once I give in to this deep desire.
Your color lost, your taste and scent did go.
But if I can wait, your life will go on.
Then my spirits will be so much higher
For I love thee, garden-grown tomato.
I fell in love with your soft rosy cheeks
I could sit still and stare at you for weeks
But could I keep control of both my mitts?
Alas, I do not think I could stand it
Not caressing your smooth, sweet, plump, red cheeks.
They call to me with small delicious squeaks
To this dear love, my life I must submit.
Forever then you'd disappear, be gone.
Once I give in to this deep desire.
Your color lost, your taste and scent did go.
But if I can wait, your life will go on.
Then my spirits will be so much higher
For I love thee, garden-grown tomato.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Story of a Departed Loved One
What a lovely, little Chevy,So small and so divine.
From my parents on my birthday,
It is red and it is mine!
For a spin, we went out,
My Chevy and I.
Round a corner, couldn't see,
Into a tree we did fly.
Oh dear Chevy, what happened?
There you are, all blown to bits.
You look awful, you may be dead,
Looks like you came from the London Blitz.
Grounded for a month or two,
But license's gone for a year.
And my Chevy, cute, red Chevy,
Will never reappear.
Phobias...
I have a fear
Actually quite a few it seems
Many a phobia I hold dear.
Claustrophobia is not so queer
But Allodoxaphobia makes me scream
I have a fear.
My Arachnephobia won't disappear
Nor my Aulophobia that is quite extreme
Many a phobia I hold dear.
Didaskaleinophobia is very severe
Worse than an Altophobic dream
I have a fear.
Genuphobia, Novercaphobia, cannot appear
More difficult than Metrophobia, which made my eyes stream
Many a phobia I hold dear.
Mnemophobia I can't stand to hear
Chronophobia makes me rip at the seams
I have a fear
Many a phobia I hold dear.
• Claustrophobia – fear of small, tight spaces
• Allodoxaphobia – fear of opinions
• Arachnephobia – fear of spiders
• Didaskaleinophobia – fear of school
• Altophobia – fear of heights
• Genuphobia – fear of knees
• Novercaphobia – fear of your step-mother
• Metrophobia – fear of poetry
• Mnemophobia – fear of memories
• Chronophobia – fear of time
Actually quite a few it seems
Many a phobia I hold dear.
Claustrophobia is not so queer
But Allodoxaphobia makes me scream
I have a fear.
My Arachnephobia won't disappear
Nor my Aulophobia that is quite extreme
Many a phobia I hold dear.
Didaskaleinophobia is very severe
Worse than an Altophobic dream
I have a fear.
Genuphobia, Novercaphobia, cannot appear
More difficult than Metrophobia, which made my eyes stream
Many a phobia I hold dear.
Mnemophobia I can't stand to hear
Chronophobia makes me rip at the seams
I have a fear
Many a phobia I hold dear.
• Claustrophobia – fear of small, tight spaces
• Allodoxaphobia – fear of opinions
• Arachnephobia – fear of spiders
• Didaskaleinophobia – fear of school
• Altophobia – fear of heights
• Genuphobia – fear of knees
• Novercaphobia – fear of your step-mother
• Metrophobia – fear of poetry
• Mnemophobia – fear of memories
• Chronophobia – fear of time
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
One on one with tea...
I am sitting on a large mug at the end of my street.
A colorful, festive, but a strangely quiet parade boils a liter of water and sends me to an entirely different mug.
In this place I fill the mug with boiling hot wheat field.
A light down the hill steeps for three minutes and I head toward it.
Oh, to squeeze out a single-bulb porch light for an old, gray teabag.
May as well throw away the house and knock on the door.
A sweet, kind clover answers and gets out to show me in.
She gets out one rusty, wrought-iron teaspoon from the drawer next to the other half of the house.
We weren't allowed into the teaspoon with honey.
Until her father is a tiny, crazy man, just starting to overflow, put her mother in the cabinet next to a large crowd.
"Put a large bug or bizarre sea creature away my friend," I say.
Teaspoon, how brown and dead it looks.
The store has become tea, old, bleak, and dark.
Now, pour lots of explosions of light and loud bangs into the tea until answered with cheers completely full.
The craziness dies down and, stirring my tea, I sit silently, confused.
A colorful, festive, but a strangely quiet parade boils a liter of water and sends me to an entirely different mug.
In this place I fill the mug with boiling hot wheat field.
A light down the hill steeps for three minutes and I head toward it.
Oh, to squeeze out a single-bulb porch light for an old, gray teabag.
May as well throw away the house and knock on the door.
A sweet, kind clover answers and gets out to show me in.
She gets out one rusty, wrought-iron teaspoon from the drawer next to the other half of the house.
We weren't allowed into the teaspoon with honey.
Until her father is a tiny, crazy man, just starting to overflow, put her mother in the cabinet next to a large crowd.
"Put a large bug or bizarre sea creature away my friend," I say.
Teaspoon, how brown and dead it looks.
The store has become tea, old, bleak, and dark.
Now, pour lots of explosions of light and loud bangs into the tea until answered with cheers completely full.
The craziness dies down and, stirring my tea, I sit silently, confused.
American Wine Society
Monday through Friday they drink,Dressed in their tuxes and minks.
On Sat. they're a mess,
On Sunday they rest,
Then they start all again and don't think.
Friday, August 14, 2009
On the Occasion of My Brother's Birth
Running to my dad yelling, "Is he here?!"
After days, weeks, months of waiting,
I was no longer alone.
Through the door, up the elevator we went,
Through doctors and nurses and crowds of patients.
But I was impatient, I wanted to run ahead,
But my dad held my hand, so I skipped instead.
Finally! After miles of bleak halls we arrived.
Walking in I heard a coo and a cry and a sweet hush,
Then I saw him.
Small, red, wrinkly, and frail,
He was perfect, my own little brother.
I touched his head, it was soft.
I touched his hand, he grabbed my finger,
And didn't let go.
So cute, so sweet, so I kissed him,
Which apparently was a bad idea.
My parents said, "No!" but I didn't care.
I was a big sister now!
I had a pin and a shirt that said so,
Not to mention my very own little brother.
After days, weeks, months of waiting,
I was no longer alone.
Through the door, up the elevator we went,
Through doctors and nurses and crowds of patients.
But I was impatient, I wanted to run ahead,
But my dad held my hand, so I skipped instead.
Finally! After miles of bleak halls we arrived.
Walking in I heard a coo and a cry and a sweet hush,
Then I saw him.
Small, red, wrinkly, and frail,
He was perfect, my own little brother.
I touched his head, it was soft.
I touched his hand, he grabbed my finger,
And didn't let go.
So cute, so sweet, so I kissed him,
Which apparently was a bad idea.
My parents said, "No!" but I didn't care.
I was a big sister now!
I had a pin and a shirt that said so,
Not to mention my very own little brother.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
On the Occasion of the Stolen Dessert
'Tis a decadent thing,
Saved for a special occasion.
Layers of cake, a savory sauce,
And a handful of the best raisins!
Bread pudding, my love,
Set upon its dish,
Glowing in the fridge door light,
My desire, my wish.
The day of consumption arrives,
And to the fridge I head.
Only, aghast, I discover
My pudding has fled.
The dessert has gone,
Disappeared into thin air.
Even the plate and the fork,
Are no longer there.
So an investigation ensued,
to unveil the greed
That would cause someone good
to do this bad deed.
The clinking of china,
Reaches my ears.
Into the next room I look
And the story is clear.
My Father, my Pop, my sweet Daddio,
could not ignore his stomach's plea.
He needed a snack and what should he find,
But my little piece of heaven and glee.
Now all that are left,
I am shameful to say,
Are the crumbs of stolen dessert,
And my maddening dismay.
Saved for a special occasion.
Layers of cake, a savory sauce,
And a handful of the best raisins!
Bread pudding, my love,
Set upon its dish,
Glowing in the fridge door light,
My desire, my wish.
The day of consumption arrives,And to the fridge I head.
Only, aghast, I discover
My pudding has fled.
The dessert has gone,
Disappeared into thin air.
Even the plate and the fork,
Are no longer there.
So an investigation ensued,
to unveil the greed
That would cause someone good
to do this bad deed.
The clinking of china,
Reaches my ears.
Into the next room I look
And the story is clear.
My Father, my Pop, my sweet Daddio,
could not ignore his stomach's plea.
He needed a snack and what should he find,
But my little piece of heaven and glee.
Now all that are left,
I am shameful to say,
Are the crumbs of stolen dessert,
And my maddening dismay.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
My Mélange of Colors
Blue is my medium,My constant stream of emotion.
Calm, controlled, never ruffled,
Always flowing.
But then a spark,
A spurt of yellow.
Gleeful, grinning, never still,
Always running.
An interruption of my quiet ways,
A welcome distraction from my work,
Life's call of duty.
Like a sparkler I will glow,For a moment or two,
And then slowly I will fade
back into blue.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Goody Goody
Goody Goody
- Matty Malneck & Johnny Mercer (1936)
So you met someone who set you back on your heels,
Goody goody!
So you met someone and now you know how it feels,
Goody goody!
Well you gave her your heart too,
Just as I gave mine to you
And she broke it in little pieces,
And now how do you do?
So you lie awake just singing the blues all night,
Goody goody!
And you found that love's a barrel of dynamite!
Hurray and halleluyah, you had it comin' to ya
Goody goody for you! Goody goody for me!
And I hope you’re satisfied you rascal you!
Companion Poem:
Walking through town I found a hundred dollar note,
Goody, goody!
So I took it along and put into my tote,
Goody, goody!
Oh all the things I'll buy,
And then they'll all be mine.
Jewelry, dresses, heels, and purses,
My spirits couldn't be so high!
Walking through town I spent my hundred dollar bill,
Phooey, phooey!
The purchased items have long been through the mill.
Where has the money gone?
I guess I must walk on.
Goody, goody for them! Phooey, phooey for me!
And I hope you're satisfied you merchants you!
- Matty Malneck & Johnny Mercer (1936)
So you met someone who set you back on your heels,
Goody goody!
So you met someone and now you know how it feels,
Goody goody!
Well you gave her your heart too,
Just as I gave mine to you
And she broke it in little pieces,
And now how do you do?
So you lie awake just singing the blues all night,
Goody goody!
And you found that love's a barrel of dynamite!
Hurray and halleluyah, you had it comin' to ya
Goody goody for you! Goody goody for me!
And I hope you’re satisfied you rascal you!
Companion Poem:
Walking through town I found a hundred dollar note,
Goody, goody!
So I took it along and put into my tote,
Goody, goody!
Oh all the things I'll buy,
And then they'll all be mine.
Jewelry, dresses, heels, and purses,
My spirits couldn't be so high!
Walking through town I spent my hundred dollar bill,
Phooey, phooey!
The purchased items have long been through the mill.
Where has the money gone?
I guess I must walk on.
Goody, goody for them! Phooey, phooey for me!
And I hope you're satisfied you merchants you!
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