This is a Test

I know, I know. I've been gone quite a while. I have no excuse except to say I've been extremely lazy and am spending a lot of time with my new hobby: marathon napping!

I did complete a self portrait in my spare time between naps, work, and kid's activities. I am also experimenting with my iPad to see if I can post a blog on the run. It would be nice if I am able to post a photo as well. Hence the "this is a test" Let's see if this works, shall we?

Tuesday's Tale: Legacy

(file from Google Images-layoutsparks.com)

Blackbird perched upon her branch

(a for-bearer of pending doom)

patiently waiting for his chance

as burgeoning buds eventually bloom

Flowers give way to emerald leaves

while blackbird nests, keeping watch

other birds surf gentle breezes

he bides his time sipping Scotch

Blackbird stirs as time draws near

'twixt her foliage he lustily recites

poems of love, chivalry into her ear

words...wound tight, delights, excites

Blackbird left in stealth of night

stealing from her bountiful tree

sweet tender fruit, not fully ripe,

though she’d gladly given for free

Blackbird drops pilfered pit

over seedy part of town

‘tween asphalt sheets & butts well thrown,

nourished by rain of spilt Royal Crown

Weeping golden tears upon the ground

she empties self, mourning loss

of love imagined, so pure, profound

comforting self with layers of winter moss

Meanwhile ‘cross city-scape

her daughter burrows deep

taking root as night sky drapes

wintry blanket under which she sleeps

Thus story begins anew

when unto chaos she emerges

(against all odds it survived), and grew

her marrow with pavement merges

Generations came, decades spent

(mom's) memories coursing through veins

this time, she thought, will be diff’rent

as blackbird settles in, taking reign

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A d'Verse Poets Pub "Open Link Night" offering

Renewed Resolve: A Micro-fiction Monday Post

17 months passed

since stepping

into dark confines

beyond cellar door

Vision adjusts

yielding truth:

empty barrels

stark reminder

of life once led

(140)

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Fairy Tale, V.2: d'Verse Poetics Offering

 

Once upon a yesteryear

I believed in fairy-tales…

Prince Charming came

slaying dragons

wakening, writhing,

dancing in tempo

to rhythmic beat; 

a troubled heart

pound, pound, pounding…

truth

drown, drown, drowning

‘neath blood spilt

through pierced flesh;

sword’s tainted tip

eventually exposing
Prince’s flaws...

defeated, he left

once upon a yesteryear

I believed in fairy-tales…

Fairy Tale: A Flash Friday 55 Offering

Photo Credit

Once upon a yesteryear

I believed in fairy-tales…

Prince Charming came

to slay dragons

wakening, writhing,

dancing in tempo

to rhythmic beat

of troubled heart

pound, pound, pounding…

truth

drown, drown, drowning

‘neath blood spilt

through pierced flesh;

sword’s tainted tip

eventually exposing

Prince’s flaws

as well…

once upon a yesteryear

I believed in fairy-tales…

Tuesday's Tale: What is it About Kids Today?

What is it about kids today...
self centered,
greedy,
uncaring,
unfeeling,
whiny,
over-inflated egos,
with the attitude of entitlement
and so on...

Right?

WRONG!

I was witness to something especially amazing this past Friday. There is a courageous young man in Munchie's 7th grade class who is undergoing treatment for osteocarcinoma: cancer of the bone. This young man recently turned 13 and a celebration was held in his honor at his school, attended by the whole 7th grade class.

(Don't you just love that smile? And that Grover hat, too?)

In addition to birthday cake, streamers and balloons, music blasting on loud speakers outside, there was something quite different going on in the middle school lobby:

As an outward sign of support, and to give encouragement to this young man as he battles cancer, many shaved had their heads and/or donated their hair to Locks of Love in his honor.

Participating were teachers...

students...

 

Munchie Boy...

a parent or two...

and even a brave young lady, who not only donated to Locks of Love, but had her head shaved as well as a show of solidarity...

Students gathered at the rafters, windows, and doorways to cheer them on...

What a great looking bunch, don't you think?

This was a truly wonderful celebration of HOPE! 

Hope Chest

childhood dreams, neatly folded, safely tucked away

wrapped within whitewashed sheets, cleansed with salty tears

victim of perverted desires, to demons falling prey

childhood dreams, neatly folded, safely tucked away

buried ‘neath  emptied bottles of Zin and Chardonnay

locked away in rotting trunk, forgotten were those years

childhood dreams, neatly folded, safely tucked away

wrapped within whitewashed sheets, cleansed with salty tears

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In addition to my usual Friday 55 post (although I had a lead foot and exceeded the speed limit just a bit) I decided to participate in d'Verse Poet's Pub challenge: compose a TRIOLET. What is a triolet you ask. It is a poem composed of 8 lines with an ABaAabAB rhyme scheme. The first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical; the second and the last lines are also identical. 

Micro-Fiction Monday: Breaking Wind

Harold and Maude,

deliberated at great length,

as Southern winds

blasted the atmosphere

surrounding them

only to conclude

that it is true:

he who smelled it, dealt it!

(140)

Saying Goodbye: A Saturday Centus Post

(Prompt is in GREEN)

deep within 

she knew

time was nearing

despite desperate denials

fearful, bitter truth

came through child’s cry

“Mommy, please stop!”

how hard she had tried:

countless times 

countless ways

a few days here 

a few weeks there

eventually succumbing

to his always appealing
seductive spell...

his charismatic charm

controlling encounters:

different places

different times

secretly meeting
hiding

even cheating with others…

never worked
always resulting in

guilt

remorse

shame

deep down she knew

he was toxic…

he could

and would

kill…

destroying her soul

and yet

saying goodbye

was harder than she thought

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My Six Words (x2): A Saturday Centus Offering

...soul soars higher

upon bent knee...

~~~~~

...freedom finally found

within simple surrender...

How I Spent Valentine's Day...

You all know that the Democratic National Convention is coming to Charlotte, right? No matter your politics this is a BIG deal.

For several years I have been on the hospital's Decontamination Committee. We've been meeting and training, using government guidelines and standards, on how best to respond to those exposed to chemical or biological agents upon their arrival to the hospital.

We've been asked, along with other area hospitals and agencies (such as medic, fire, police) to be available to staff the event. Of course, this involves ramped up training. Yesterday, we learned how to don our gear and actually hold a mock event involving decontamination of a volunteer. It was fascinating. Here are a few photos from the training session.

Duct tape is used to seal the seams of the suit, seal the suit to the gloves and boots, and, in my case, to make the size 4X suit fit to my petite frame. 

But what's a training session without a little silliness? I wouldn't know...so let the silliness ensue!

Micro-Fiction Monday: February 13, 2012

Honestly, where else would a pink wicker set go?

Next to a pair these lovely shutters, of course.

Get it?

No?

Geez…it’s the “Love Shack”.

Duh!

(139)

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For more Micro-Fiction fun, visit Grandma Goulash!

Preying: A Flash Friday Offering

Photo belongs to coupekid.deviantart.com

black-wolf prowls

perimeter  

of conscious thought

as desire to

adopt him,

train him,

control him,

consumes

every thought,

every action,

stealing time away

from search for

long lost child.

blackbirds spy,

keeping guard,

watching,

waiting

for moment

when memories of

how powerful,

how cunning,

how baffling,

predator can be

fades...

meanwhile,

ever vigilant…

black-wolf prowls

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Today's FF55 is based upon a dream from last summer. For more 55's please click on the link below:

A Flash Friday 55 Offering: The Hunger

startled awake

by creak, creak, creaking

of stair boards ‘neath a heavy weight

dreading sound

of feet slowly creep, creep, creeping

up steps, nearing closer

feigning sleep

to squeak, squeak, squeaking

of door yielding entry

eyes squeeze shut

to hot, heavy breaths…

cold, demanding tongue…

rapacious hunger,

incessant , impatient...

So much for sleeping in. 

(Daisy, not so patiently waiting)

5th's Sunday Seven: World's Largest Dreadlock

intrigued, one could not help but stare  

pondering the how

the why

the mystery

behind

her mass

of hair

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These were from photos of my trip to NYC last summer. I was absolutely fascinated by this woman's huge mass of matted hair. Was it a dreadlock? Was it just a giant rat's nest? Is this a cultural symbol that this mid-west gal is unaware? 

Anyway, what story can you tell in 7 words, lines, images, whatever. The rules are loose. I'll read your entries and comments when I return home from work. 

Pygmy Goat Wisdom...A Flash Friday 55

1. When life gets you down, 

     all you need is to look for the pygmy-goats

2. Baby pygmy-goats quickly alter your mental state 

    to one of cheerfulness and joy.

3.  Pygmy-goats are good for a healthy laugh.

4. Heed warnings from papa-goats, defenders of territory and turf.

    They’ll alert you when you cross the line. 

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As seen first on my private page on Facebook.

5th Sister Dreaming: Rehab

I was sent to a rehab facility. When I arrived it was time for dinner. I was surprised that the cafeteria was serving "luxury" meats such as prime rib, ham off the bone, etc. I have difficulty finding utensils for my food and a glass for the sweet tea. Someone pointed out a glass to me and I end up overfilling it. I proceed to look for a place to sit, still wondering how I was going to eat the food without utensils. As I walk across the white carpet my glass tips over spilling sweet tea everywhere. I am embarrassed, because I don't know how to clean up the mess.

As I just sit down to eat it is time for us find our rooms. I had left my passport and my binder at the cafeteria entrance. They are now gone and presumed stolen. I am fortunately able to find my room number off of a posted list in the hall: I was assigned to room 310. 

I enter room 310. Much to my disgust, there was a creepy white man having sex with (raping?) a large black woman named Kona. It appeared brutal. He is so smug of his sexual prowess and his ability to come often. He beats a hasty retreat when he sees that someone has entered the room. I quickly approach the woman, concerned, to see if she's all right. I ask if she was hurt. Her answer was no. I ask if it was consensual. She says yes, but with tears flowing from her eyes I know differently.

I'm now late for the first meeting. We are given an art project but I miss the opening instructions. The facilitator quickly went over them but I have a hard time understanding: something about painting in a series of strokes that represent our life's journey to the point where we are now. I misunderstood. I thought he said to use black paint for our brush strokes but in actuality we were  to begin with a black under painting. After which, any color could be used. So after fighting over worn out brushes with the crazy man (who was bragging about his sexual expertise) I finally have what I needed.

Although it was dusk, I decide to paint plein air. I gather my belongings and go outside to set up my work station. The only canvas available to me was one previously painted upon. Oh well, I wasn't going to let that deter me. I attempt to paint straight little strokes, with the black paint, but somehow ended up painting broad, sweeping, circular strokes...the type in which splattering occurs. As I continued on my art I was surprised to find other colors appearing on the canvas. I peered into my cup of paint. I discovered that as I used up the black paint near the top, other colors, bold and bright, were uncovered, bubbling to the surface. I stepped back from my painting to look at the whole picture: I had painted an abstract of a nude woman in repose. It was beautiful! Just then the counselor came to critique my work. He would pull up several canvases scattered about. It was difficult, yet I had to admit that they weren't my work. Then he picked up my painting...I was dismayed to see he was studying the front side, where the previous work had been painted, not the underside that I used for my work.

The next morning came quickly. I got up to out to walk, as that was what was required of newcomers. As I was walking my trail, I was asked to help out at the booth. This was a place, under a canopy, where people could come with their questions or concerns. I did as was asked. While seated at the table I received a phone call from an unidentified source. This person ordered me to get back out and walk...that I hadn't done the necessary work to belong at that table. I was embarrassed because I was only doing what was asked of me. I became very frustrated because I really didn't know the rules. 6 weeks was going to be a very long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today I took a big risk sharing this with you. This is an actual dream of mine. Nothing added, nothing taken away. Purely unadulterated. Not sugar-coated in the least. If I can get pen down to paper, first thing in the morning, I have the basis for some serious self analysis, or pretty crazy stories. It is obvious that my dreams are ripe with metaphorical symbolism. The question always is…am I honest, open, and willing enough to take that good hard look at myself.

Monday Musings: January 23, 2012

A brief conversation while taking Munchie Boy to his Religious Education class...

Munch:  I had the best weekend, ever!
Me:  How so?
Munch: It all started Thursday with the bowling and pizza party. Then there was a Friday night swim meet. On Saturday I went to the Monster Truck Jam, and today Dad took me to Dave and Buster's.
Me: Wow, that is a great weekend! And now you get to top the weekend off in Ms. Donna's Religious Ed. class.
Munch: I don't think that counts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Target,

I had the most delightful shopping experience in your store this past Sunday. It began with finding some good bargains on your clearance rack and on funky socks. Then, as I was going through the grocery aisles, one of your associates said to me, "Hello there, young lady!" I chuckled but was quite pleased nonetheless. Then another associate walked me to the aisle I needed when I couldn't find a certain item on my list. (Hmmmm...maybe I was looking a bit feeble). And as I approached the checkout lanes, I had several cashiers vying for my attention! I felt like a celebrity! I will definitely shop the local Target again on an early Sunday morning!

A frugal and flattered 5th!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Bethany,

No one's mind will be changed today. That's okay. I admire your dedication to the sanctity of human life, from conception to natural death. I'm proud of you. Keep on marching. 

Mama 5th

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear All Recipes,

Thanks for the White Chili recipe. The only modification I made was subbing cheddar for Monterey Jack. It was well received by Mr. Sister. And that is always a plus!

A well fed 5th

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Work,

Since I stayed up for the game, do you think it possible for me to come in at 9 instead of 6:45am? No? Oh well, it was worth a try!

A red-eyed 5th

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Hip,

Stop it. Now. It's time to ease up on the pain. After all it's been since July. You are frustrating both me and my Physical Therapist (who has been working diligently, on a weekly basis since September get you to let go). 

A hobbled 5th

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Work,

P.S.  How about 8 hour shifts instead of 12. I think my hip would appreciate that.

A hurting 5th

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That is all.

5th's Sunday Seven: January 22, 2012

One Sip

One sip

crosses line

sanity

changes

course

~~~

desire turns

craving burns

bridges

precariously

built

~~~

wanting off

crazy trip

journey

to

abyss

~~~

hands up

crying out

God

please

help!

~~~

cannot face

triggered plunge

deepest

darkest

depth

~~~

boundaries weaken

beaten down

bottom

finally

reached

~~~

sun shines

through broken

borders...

splintered

soul

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5th Sister's Sunday Seven is a simple themed writing exercise. 

The rules are quite simple if you wish to participate:

1.  Compose a poem, short story, micro fiction, photo montage, etc...that fits into the theme of 7. Examples include, 7 words, 7 syllables, 7 stanzas, 7 stanzas of 7 words, etc.  Use your imagination.

2.  Post a direct link to your blog post within the comments section using a hyperlink or the URL of your post. 

3. Visit at least one other blog who has taken the time to play!

I look forward to reading your contributions!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Written in honor of a good friend struggling right now

 In addition to the Sunday Seven, this is also my contribution to today's dVerse Poetry Challenge.

Another Sunday Meme?

Testing, Testing...

Am I on? Yes?

OK, good.

Hello all! I am running a "test" post to see if there would be any interest in a new Sunday Meme, since we no longer have the Sunday 160, conceived, owned, and hosted by the one and only Monkey Man. My idea is to use a similar "micro-story" theme and call it Sunday Seven. I would love it, if you are interested, to indicate your interest in the comment section below. My idea is for all of us to write an expression, micro-story or poem in just 7 words...or tell a story in 7 pictures... As long as it conveys an idea, abstract or literal, fantastical or unbelievable, in 7 components, it's all good.

I am also testing out a Mr. Linky widget. Please help me test it out by placing a link to your current blog post on this widget. This is all new and a bit "high tech" for me, so if you can humor me, I'd appreciate your help.

Thanks so much!

Coffee Shop Chatter: A FF55 post

coed enthralled...

w/college boy reciting his poetic art

over herbal tea

soccer moms relaxing

between carpools, laughing

over lattes, decaf non-fat

old timers debating

politics, mourning youth,

over steamy mugs, strong & black

professors tutoring

students, sharing knowledge

over hazelnut red-eyes

Today’s blend,

staining my cup

while eavesdropping to

coffee shop chatter

in caffeinated air 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Can you describe your morning in exactly 55 words? 

Monday Musings: January 16, 2012 (Abbreviated Version)

Dear Munchie-Boy,

Congratulations. You did it. You achieved your 1st milestone of puberty. You are now taller than me. This does not, however, give you license to use me as an armrest!

A vertically challenged 5th

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Bethany,

One word: Bravo!

A proud Mama 5th

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Blogging Buddies,

Bear with me as I adjust to my increased work schedule. Posts have been sporadic at best and I am having the most difficult time getting back into a routine after the holiday season. Until then, I will post when I can. 

Your MIA 5th

Hostage Heart: Alphabet Thursday/FF55 Offering

single golden thread

‘round our fingers wrapped

pulled taut

binding our

fragile selves

together

fraying strands

revealing truths:

yearning, thirst

isn’t always love 

rather attempts 

filling void

becoming aware

what glitters

isn't always gold

rather foolishness

flaking away,

hostage hearts revealed

tension breaks

once gilded strands…

spirits freed,

leaving fragment

forever fastened

upon each soul

The Letter H

What can you say in exactly 55 words?

Monday Musings: January 9th, 2012

Dear Death,

You arrived uninvited and lingered too long over the past couple of weeks. Please leave. Now. Seriously. Just go.


A sorrow-filled 5th

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Mom,


Stay strong. I love you. I will try to come home over the kid's spring break to help you get things in order. 


Always,


Your 5th

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear 1st Sister,


You are so appreciated for all you do for both Mom and Dad. Thank you for being there. Especially during times such as these. 


With much love,


Your little sis 5th

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This post is dedicated 

to the loving memory of Virgil...

my mother's long time companion for over 35 years. 

May he rest in peace.

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