Saturday, May 28, 2011

The armory - 160

Dreams swirl.
Sleep escapes me
as another comment
meant to sting
digs deeply
into my very soul.

It was meant to drive a wedge
so wedge it is.
Mine has barbs on the end.

The one-and-only Monkey Man plays this game every Sunday.
Write a story in 160 characters, including spaces. No more, no less.
Play along, if you dare - but be warned... the depth of emotions can be felt
even in such small places.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Stormy 55

Standing taller than those around her,
She sways in the breeze
Waiting for the storm to pass.

“Heavy winds and rain are forecast,”
the weatherman says.

Quietly following the path she has chosen,
She bends, allowing wind to blow through her red hair
and pass her by.

If only people were this easy to ignore.

Happy Friday to all - play along with G-Man and try your hand at fiction in exactly 55 words. 
Just remember - fiction is often VERY close to the truth...

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Rapture in 160

The small girl went to church to celebrate and repent.
She smiled sweetly, looking up at her Sunday school teacher
and remarking, “Oh, you’re not worthy, either.”

Yep, we're all still here. But you should go off and think about this - what if the "Rapture" happened and only one old, small man in Peru was worthy? I'm still waiting for the hoards of vermin, stinging mosquito the size of horses and for all the rest of those really cool prophesies to come true...

Play along with my favorite Monkey Man and his Sunday 160 Here. If you ARE still here...

Friday, May 20, 2011

downtown in 55

Portland's living room glows with promise and sunshine this morning -if you ignore shadows in the corners. Struck by the devotion of the ones that watch over their sick, sad masters, the lucky one with full belly and warm bed knows it. Five dogs eat well today to spend another night watching over their precious charges.

---although non-fiction, my hope is to some day see stories such as this as just that - stories. The homeless population, and their fiercely devoted canine protectors, deserve to find a place in our world that's safe.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

160 Beginnings

Once upon a time
You’d write me notes
On your cell phone.
Limited to 160 characters
(thanks Verizon)
You found ways
To take creativity
To the next level.

I also have to thank my darling husband and great kids for a day of spoiling, digging in the dirt and pampering - including bacon. I even got to read to them, a rare thing with teenagers.
Happy Mother's Day, all you wonderful women! Even if you've never given birth, you mother and love those around you and should be thanked just the same. You know who you are.
Monkey Man dreamed of stories in 160 characters, including spaces. If you dare, you can try it yourself. Check him out and let him know. It's harder than you think!

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Well? in 55

What would you do
If in a moment
Everything you love, and have, and hold
Will be gone?

If there was a warning - a breath taken -
That told you the secret
Of the end to come...

Would you know what to say
In a word?
How to show - in a breath - what you feel?

G-Man asks a small favor - write a quick dose of fiction, in 55 words - no more, no less. 
Humor him and write your own, then visit him HERE and tell him all about it. I did.

Monday, May 2, 2011


Breath held, I look at the plants. The year is 2010, Summer is in full swing - and I know what will appear: wilting flowers, browning for no reason I can discern. BLIGHT. The plants may be full of blossoms that are budding into fruit, but the blooms that wither and die hold my attention. As always.

No amount of spray or water, sun or shade will keep those blooms from shriveling, dying and falling off the plants. I find it so painful, it steals the joy of the ones that will survive.

I know in my heart that some blossoms just won't be saved, just like some people just can't break free of the bad habits and torment they inflict upon themselves. That life is not a neat, 30 minute sound bite that always makes sense - where dad gives good advice and all is well in the world. Why, then, do the broken ones take my attention away from the healthy ones, the ones that should bring me joy?

Many moons ago, I watched as someone close went through a horrible blight. The depth of despair we felt was so disparate that there didn't seem to be any way to re-balance. Our focus blurred. We were pushed apart by necessity - the necessity of focus, feeding kids and walking dogs, cleaning gutters, listening to a machine all night long, clicking every few minutes, telling me the poison was doing its hideously necessary job. I was supposed to be grateful for its power, that poison, but all I wanted to do was throw it out the window.

Slowly, over time, the world rebalanced and we found our axis again - not the "survival is all we have" mode but the "hey this is fun" stuff. Had I focused only on the blight and forgotten the good things that can be, there would have been nothing to remember but the horror of what I lived. If not for a sense of loss, would there be any sense of joy?

The month of May holds new promise and potential for joy. After all, if I focus on the blight, it can take over and be all that I can see. What's the point in that, when I'm missing out on the color in the world? And color there is, all around me.
(Artist credit:My daughter, 18 years old and a phenomenal artist, creates amazing faxu-tattoos on her arm. This lovely creature was created in about 7 minute's time while we sat in a waiting room.)

Sunday, May 1, 2011

160 reasons

Dancing alone forever
seemed like a grand idea at the time
but time plays tricks
and being lonely in my shadow is such a waste of time…
Time? Go take a flying leap.