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Category Archives: REALITY
WRITING & REALITY: Time, Timing, Timer, Timed, Time..
I cannot let this first of August day go by. I must mark it somehow with myself as it has somehow left a mark on me. A word or two is all I have to offer, using them to form … Continue reading Continue reading
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WRITING & REALITY: Adjustment
How odd, at more-than-middle age to feel the pangs of orphanhood. I thought perhaps, as being childless, losing parents is as close to losing child or spouse. But no, one of my sisters feels it too, beyond the scope of … Continue reading Continue reading
Posted in REALITY, WRITING
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WRITING & REALITY: Seeing the Whole Picture
The very real problem of understanding an issue, political or otherwise, is in not considering all the ramifications of taking a stance. On a political quiz (thanks, Joel) to find out which presidential candidates I most agree with (or perhaps … Continue reading Continue reading
REALITY: We Are Who We Knew
My arms are heavy, laden like a Christmas tree with toys and trinkets from a better, sparkling year. Bands of sterling friendship, golden wedding rings of love present and passed on. Watches that kept perfect time in a time so … Continue reading Continue reading
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REALITY: American Dreams
Strange, losing my political advisor, adversary, comrade in the field of watching life. What better place to dig for roots and berries but in the farmer’s mind, the laborer and voter who saw wars from the best seat on the … Continue reading Continue reading
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REALITY: Memories
Memories live within the senses. The sight of baby bluest eyes and wrinkled smiles. I hear the roars of every kind of engine, mowers, drills and the chainsaw that we tried hard not to fix; the gentle voice heard reading … Continue reading Continue reading
REALITY?: Mourning
Radar, radar detector, detector blocker; a natural progression, a learned response. Just as in sorrow, tears withheld too long escape in sobs. And when it’s learned the tipoff to the action, that hollow feeling in the chest around the heart … Continue reading Continue reading
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REALITY: Morning Grief
Rain-wet wings of hummingbirds don’t hum, they whistle in their flight to suck the nectar from a bloom or plastic replica of life. Things are too intense in silent focus when in avoidance of the known. I feel as if, … Continue reading Continue reading
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WRITING & REALITY: Morning Meeting
Backyard early morning like a New York City Chinese laundry circa 1927. Close your eyes and listen to the current country version of cotton rope on metal clothesline reels pulled in jerks to bring clothes in or push them out … Continue reading Continue reading
WRITING & REALITY: Night Stories
Nighttime is sounds you don’t hear in the sunshine. Tree frogs rule in the dark. Leaves don’t just flutter, they rustle instead; long grasses whisper, not bend in the breeze. Flying bugs click against clapboards, buzzing is mosquitoes, not bees. … Continue reading Continue reading
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REALITY?: Free At Last!
Ice cream for supper–Friendly’s Forbidden Chocolate, the best. Cookies and carrots for lunch. I shall breakfast tomorrow at three in the morning on spaghetti and snails–not escargot, and stay up until three Friday too. Maybe I’ll lock up the shop … Continue reading Continue reading
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REALITY?: Evening Story
Rarely do I sit out back in evening, but tonight, a book, a coffee mug and I are drawn to wet-washed early evening sky and cooling air. Brightest blue with just a touch of ochre from the sun, and who … Continue reading Continue reading
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WRITING & REALITY?: Fantasies and Feelings
Lost the muse in mundane daily doings. Technology, creative and intense, sober, serious. Not fanciful, however, though perhaps in dreaming soft where knights fight dragons, bad men in black armor, and the princess calls down to her love all dressed … Continue reading Continue reading
REALITY? & TECHNOLOGY: Poetry in Motion
Rain, rain, go away, Come again some other day, Little Susie needs to play outside, digging trenches. Continue reading
Posted in REALITY, TECHNOLOGY
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WRITING & REALITY: Lost
Maybe it was left behind in tangled sheets, no backwards glance to notice it, no value given at the time to make it that important. Maybe it was hidden ‘neath the sofa cushions with the Catcher in the Rye I … Continue reading Continue reading
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology