PAD Day 24- Lost then Regained – Lost and Found Friends

Mrs. Austen and I  lost touch with each other for about ten years; those years from childhood to adulthood.  It was by chance my grandmother, darling that she is, found Mrs. Austen’s wedding announcement in the local paper, clipped it out, and sent it to me. I can’t imagine how my life would be had she not done that and Mrs. Austen and I reconnecting. I can’t imagine my life without my best friend, who really would like a letter, and I have one started in an email, but it’s been two weeks…. Sorry Jules! I will get it to you!

But for now, here is how we lost then found each other. And when I think of our friendship, I think of Simon and Garfunkel‘s “Bookends” and “Old Friends” songs, which happen to be my favorite songs of theirs. I also think of Sorcery and Cecelia or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot by Caroline Stevermer and Patricia C. Wrede

Lost and Found Friends

I was twelve when I lost my best friend,
Moving east, three states across;
A distance more than miles, it became years
A childhood faded to the teens;
Terrible years and no friend to commiserate with.
Meeting again at eighteen on the cusp of adulthood
Her going that way, me going another distance.
College and moves, and strange times between us.
She was married, her picture in the paper
when we truly met again, as ourselves.
Not in person, but letters and words on sheets.
Meeting like old-fashioned women and calling cards.
Our friendship regained in letters and cards
to something strong and lasting for years.
From best friend, to lost friend, to found again
We are the old friends sitting like bookends…

PAD Day 23 – Footwear – I Never Knew I Could Write So Many Poems About Shoes…

I never would have thought that I could have gotten four poems from footwear. Seriously, my first thought at 2 in the morning when the prompt came out was, “Heels. I can write about my love of heels.” Well you get two heels poems and two more shoe poems as well.  I was reading three of these off to Mel this morning and I loved her insight and laughter.

I have to say though that I was holding back tears with Flip Flop Childhood.  How can you not get weepy and sentimental about your first crush when you were a little girl? I was five. I was in love with a neighbor boy and it was horrible and awful and wonderful and there were arguments and tears… mostly because I kissed him on the cheek and oh, the terror of it for him.  Even to this day, thinking about him brings a fondness and melancholy moment. Ah childhood.

The rest are true, with a touch of exaggeration. Just a very slight touch.  Enjoy.

 

In Heels I Know My Limitations

Tap tap tapping down the street
I go in heels too tall
click click clacking on pavement
I’m a lady, I’m a girl
And the heels are my badge
They are my license to be
feminine and helpless
though I can almost run better in heels
than in my running shoes
Running on my toes, gazelle-like,
worrying about placement and pebbles
that might trip me up;
In running shoes I think I can make it
till I twist my ankle for being cocky and brave
In heels I know my limitations
Tennis shoes make me arrogant.

Inherited Bunions
My mother wore heels during both her pregnancies
In the eighties of stiletto heels and big shoulder pads
and bold colors.
She had dainty feet — size four and a half.
Cool green snakeskin kitten-esque things
that I said I would wear when I was older and a lady.
My feet are seven and a half.
I was never able to indulge in
her suede forest green pumps.
It makes me sad to see them go
to the second hand shops;
Because those heels gave my mother bunions.
I didn’t inherit the heels,
but I’m inheriting the bunions.

Flip-flop Childhood (for CMM)

Flipflops and popsicles
and skinned knees and chalk
and bike rides and summer
roll together into my childhood
when summer heat melted rubber
and flip flops protected against
burning sidewalks from his house
to my green lawn and cool garage
where the cars were
or the blocks, and teeter totter
and kisses to cry over
and records to laugh over
before I moved, before he
grew up and moved and
before we were too old
to realize that we didn’t
really get each other, but
for those five years
I was in love with
a boy who was younger than me

The Hiking Boots of My Life

The hiking boots that take me up
the granite rocks where my
sister and I play, making
pine cone soup with pine needle
noodles on the side with a
lichen salad and a sand
and gravel dressing.
The hiking boots that grip the
creek stones as I hope across the
rocks, staying dry till they hit
an algae patch and my foot
plunges into mountain water.
The hiking boots that sit on
the bank as we wade into
the creek sliding on rocks
the water so cold and fresh.
The boots sit there, impossible to
get on, after wet feet try to tug
on socks, then the snug boots.
The hiking boots that made me
love boots more than tennis shoes
and sandals, sturdy and strong
faithfully taking me from there
to here. From eight to much more
than eight.
I still wear hiking boots.

PAD Day 22 – Stars – Stark Raving Mad Star Painted Skies

March Hare

March Hare (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Stark Raving Mad

is what the March Hare
calls Alice
who really must be a writer
because who else has dreams
like that?

The first poem is due to Robert’s lovely suggestion he’s totally fine with prompts that get bent a bit. I couldn’t resist. And honestly, aren’t we all a little stark raving mad?

Okay, now onto Stars (blank) poems. I really could have gone so many ways with this. I love astronomy and Greek mythology. I love how the mythology is in the stars and I love star maps. Constellation guides. I love seeing the blue fields filled with the lines of the constellations. I love learning the names of the stars. Vega, Aldebaran, Rigel, Arcturus, Betelgeuse, Procyon, Sirius, Capella……

I also love Enya’s ‘Paint the Sky With Stars’. Anything to do with stars I’m kind of a fan. I even fold paper stars. Heck, I need to write a poem about paper stars.  Oooh, I think I found my evening writing prompt.  I will come up with something I can add in for tomorrow’s post.  I have also been humming Corinne Bailey Rae’s “Just Like a Star’ in my head a lot. It’s on of my favorites of hers.  It’s just a really smooth song.

But for now, enjoy my three other star poems.

Starry Sky

Midnight blue field with silvered dashes
connecting alphas and betas and iotas
till Orion bursts forth as the mighty Hunter
shooting across the sky as the stories
ancient stories unfold
The lions, great bears, and bulls
circling around the mighty men
the dreamers and beasts
wrapped into a dome of magical light
whirling around and around at dizzying speeds
as the sun sets and the moon rises and
the reverse in seasons and moments
and arc minutes and right ascensions
till they pinpoints bleed into the galaxy that
we call home as far off distant light shoots forth
A star? No, another world light years away.

Star Painted Sky

Paint the sky with stars, in silvers and golds and blues
and dash all the constellations until the disk is
filled with the light and the stories and the music
and the tales from long ago myths
Paint the ceiling with stars, in bold yellows and reds
giants and dwarfs and suns spinning round
twirling us in a golden ratio of mathematical delight
a seashell of magic and spirals
Paint the summer with stars, crashing and slamming in sound
the silence is only in your head as the clash of
oceans of stars collide in a symphony of light spinning
spinning around and around and around.

Star Wishes

She wears a star on the inside of her wrist
a memory of a wish she made
and hopes that one day the wish she made
will turn out and really exist
But dreams and wishes seem so lost not found
as time slips slowly on by
and time is just but a memory
she wonders if the wish will ever be profound
But she wishes and wishes the same
hoping for something to come true
and wishes are true in ones dreams
These wishes are a burning flame

Kate

PAD Day 21 – Responding Poetry – Naked In This Life

On This Bus

my god
it just occurred to me
underneath
our clothes
everyone on this bus
is stark naked

~ Ric Masten

English: Michelangelo's David (original statue...

English: Michelangelo’s David (original statue) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Naked In This Life

And they say that to deal with stage fright
to picture your audience naked
when in life we are all naked the day we are
born and we die and leave earth naked
and ever bit of life we are naked
hiding beneath the facade of silks
and velvets and jeans and flannel
And I should be scandalized by picturing
you naked as the day you were born
but instead I find myself more intrigued
wondering how you measure up to
Michelangelo‘s David

 

Just recently I picked up a book of poetry by poet Ric Masten titled “Stark Naked in ’69 and ’79”.  The first poem is the one above. I LOVE that poem because it’s hilarious. And it’s so true. I like truthful poetry. Which is why I rave about Billy Collins. His is so truthful.

I wanted to read off poetry to people today. I was inspired by the Poem in Your Pocket Day, and I picked  Burning the Old Year by Naomi Shihab Nye.  You can read it HERE on page 14.  But I’ve never had luck reading poetry to people. As Mrs. B said, this is what makes poets weird. Pardon me, but while I think we are weird, showing off poetry is no different than art. But it does me no good to point this out. So I am sharing it with all of you. The poem is rather brilliant in my opinion.

I’ve tried reading poems to my family and it’s rather pointless. They stare at me or don’t get it and wander off like I’m the strangest thing in the world. I always thought that I came from a different family and that I don’t fit here. The only evidence that I belong is that I happen to look like both my father’s grandmother and my mother’s aunt. So clearly I have the genetics. But other than that……

Creative people have a different world they inhabit. I was thinking about this in regards to the passing of Prince. The man was so talented, but I’m sure in a lot of ways, he was alone. Creative people, and I mean really creative people have a hard time with the real world. I would never throw myself into the super amazing creative person, but maybe I am and don’t know it. But I know that I have some weird sh** that goes on in my head. And I get stuck in my head for days. And I don’t want to be around people, and I have ups and downs and moments. Am I suicidal or clinically depressed? No, but I have my moments of downs. We all have it if we are creative.  And trying to get people that are not quite as creative as you to understand this… well they just don’t. They really do not understand what is going on in your head. So, while I don’t know the scope of Prince’s passing, I can understand that it might not have been all sunshine and daisies.

All of this has no relationship to the poem. Pretty much it focuses on what does that very good looking guy look like without clothes… because yes, we’ve all done it. (though I never compare anyone to the David statue…. )

Kate

PAD Day 20 – Unsaid – The Things We Left Unsaid

The Things We Left Unsaid

The things we left unsaid
are read between the lines
or in the pauses of words
said in a moments confined.

Things said in passionate heat
I know I said them to you
But you didn’t understand them
I will not explain them true.

You can go your way unknown
And I will go mine in pain
I can’t make you know these things
Only frustration remains.

I thought you once understood
these things I pleaded to you
in the silence of the space
It is clear that we are through.

I hope that once the air clears
I’ll explain myself right there
to put our anger aside
and to end our love affair.

What’s said between the unsaid
between the lines of love
it is sometimes left unknown
and I’ve said this all above.

 

One of the things I know about myself, though I tend to write very long letters, I tend to leave things left unsaid and between the lines. Hoping beyond hope that the person I’m writing will get it without me having to explain myself.  Mostly men in my life. Which is clearly a bad thing to do because guys just do not get subtle. I’m not sure they get it unless you throw a brick at them and even then they are thinking, “Oh a brick.”  Sigh.  This applies to one particular person, but still it’s true that a lot of our life has things between the lines that are not spoken aloud.

On a side note, I was encouraged this morning reading Robert Brewer’s prompt. Here is what he said –

Until last week, it had been since before Thanksgiving that I’d submitted poems anywhere. I’d received more than 10 rejections in that time, and well, I’m human–so I was a little down. Decided to submit some poems this month and over the weekend received an acceptance of not one but five poems all at once! Anyway, it just goes to show the importance of perseverance–all writers need a little; it’s just something that should be said.

I have been struggling with what to do with my poetry and even the fact that I wasn’t picked for the previous PAD challenge.  But here you have the Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community who is struggling just like the rest of us. I had the inflated view that this man must be publishing things all over the place.  Clearly, just like the rest of us, rejections are all part of the game.  So, thank you, Robert, for sharing your life. I think we all need a bit more encouragement than we think we need.  So I applaud you and congratulations.

Now I need to consider what I want to submit to myself. Because, whether I’m a poet, a writer, a novelist, a picture book creator, or whatnot, I am a writer in ever sense of the word.

Kate

Gossamer Wings and Bathing Selkies – Flash Fiction

It’s gossamer wings he sketches with a bright, brand new No. 2 pencil. Airy, delicate things attached to her frame. As she stands poised over the water, in a modest bathing suit, cherry red, and a red bathing cap, she’s from another age as she prepares herself for the cold punch into the mountain lake. For now, she’s warm on the granite rock, but the lake is fed by snow melt.

But as he sketches her, she’s a fairy, unreal and a pixie. She’s not just ready to leap into the water, but standing on a lavender bloom poised to take flight. His fingers smudge the oily pastels into the paper, spreading the fantasy as reality, with a whoop suddenly dives into the clear water.

He pauses for a moment, his fingers hovering over the paper as she surfaces, laughing and gasping. He’s tempted to grab another blank page and sketch in a selkie as she glides seal-like through the water. If only his muse would hold still, he might be able to capture the magic in her.

I pulled the prompts Gossamer, lavender, No. 2 Pencil, and yellow this last weekend at the writing group. Mel said this was a pretty good use of the prompts.  I think I’m inspired by Celtic stories still, hence the selkie. For those curious, the film Ondine with Colin Farrel is marvelous for the selkie tale.  And when I was picturing the fairy wings, I was thinking of Cicely Mary Barker‘s fairies. I’ve always loved them.  And old fashioned bathing suits from the 20s.  I had this vintage poster image in my head, but I’m not even sure it’s real. It’s funny how you can imagine something you think you’ve seen, but you’re not sure it’s real or made up.

PAD Day 19 – Cool/Uncool – Elvis Costello is His Icon

Elvis Costello is His Icon

He’s a bit uncool with his hair
falling over his black glasses
thick glasses floppy hair
shaggy and mussed and wavy.
He’s a bit of a nerd but
in a way he’s not.
He quotes things no guy
should ever know and read
but long ago it was the thing
Elvis Costello in jacket and jeans
with cummings in his back pocket.

I have a character I’ve styled after a nerdish Elvis Costello, kind of like he’s crossed with Zachary Levi from Chuck. And I picture him reading e.e. cummings or Dylan Thomas or something edgy. But he’s cool in an uncool way. And young Elvis Costello is really pretty much what I have pictured. And I might add that an older Costello is kind of sexy too….

April Cool

April means warmer weather
as the snow decides to settle
onto mountain tops one day
as I’m in shorts two days later
Up and down, the cold is here
then gone and summer sun shines
It’s a mixed up world in April
A bit of an uncool vibe.

The darn weather can’t make up its mind. Two weeks ago I was in shorts considering suntanning, then the next week I was in layers, bundled up because it was raining and snowing. Now we are back to more summery weather. It’s an odd year.

Kate

Positive Feedback, Springtime, and Being a Woman

So just the other day I found out that my grandfather read one of my stories here and told Mr. B that he liked it. While I know my grandmother reads some of my things occasionally, it surprised me to find out my grandpa did as well. Pleasantly surprising though. I mean, half or most of the time my parents don’t read what I write, for which I am partly glad. They know enough about me, they don’t need to know some of my other aspects. As it was, Mr. B wanted to know what I had written about so I was explaining some of the last pieces of flash fiction I had written, and he was making faces. Well, I had to explain that Under the Clock Tower gets interesting.  I’ll have to type it up so y’all can see.

So, no, I don’t always tell my parents what I write. Mel did mention, since she gave me the suggestion for how to continue the Clock Tower, that they (the writing group) was corrupting me. To which I replied, “Don’t worry, I’m already corrupted. You should see some of the stuff I’ve written that I share online only under an alias.” She burst out laughing, especially when I took her suggestion about the story.  Oh, being a writer means I have too much going on in my head, and half of it is not what I would call ‘nice’. It’s wicked, it’s bad, gruesome, disturbing, sexy, sexual, violent, and various other not nice things.  Hey, have you ever read of nice villains?

Well anyways, it was nice to get feedback from my grandpa. Then that same morning, a woman I know here said she loved reading my work. She reads it every morning before work while she drinks her coffee.  Wow. Thank you.  I know the ladies occasionally read my work since I post it on Facebook for friends to see, and I always get marvelous feedback from Mel, but out of the blue feedback is rather a gooey feeling.  Okay, honestly, positive feedback gives me a gooey feeling in general. Mrs. Austen always makes me smile when she posts something.

So, feedback = Nice

Then with it being springtime, there is so much inspiration going on. Oh my gosh. All the flowers and smells and birds and green things growing. It brings out a happier me. A more inspired me than winter. I have slipped out of my ‘burned out’ feeling. Thank goodness. And I have moved on to being more inspired.  I think PAD has given me a boost to write all kinds of things, not just sticking with stories and flash fiction.  I have had a lot of inspiration, even if I might groan at the prompt. Like yesterday’s haiku day. But even that turned out good.

Then the being a woman.  As Mel said after we were all gushing over the Outlander novels and Outlander the show, and Jamie, that we are women and the ‘sap’ is rising.  one thing said was  how the sex is really good in Outlander…. and the show. Really good on the show, people. Really good. And it’s really well written in the books. Not super erotic graphic, but just enough that you, or I, keep going back and rereading it. It’s that good.  I had talked to a woman the other day who had mentioned that she read the first three books and thought they were too steamy.  My inner thought was, hell yes, and thank goodness!  That’s one of the things that makes them so ridiculously good. And I don’t even feel it’s a guilty pleasure. It’s just a good read. Hey, I’m a sucker for romance novels, be it clean or a bit naughty…. or in some cases, really naughty.

Ah, springtime. Romance, love, sex and all things fertile start flowing. There must be something about it that we don’t even realize that we mimic nature.  So I have to say that yeah, spring comes along and anything girly and feminine is on my mind. And romance.  Lots of romance. And roses, and Hallmark movies.  I did my 31 days of femininity in October, but honestly, I probably should have done it now.  Lol.  I have stacks of romance books I want to read, or write. Heck, I am writing romance. I don’t share the romance with anyone because it’s terrible. Okay, it’s probably not that bad, but it has a lot of half starts. I’m still working on a story I started a month or so ago, and it’s actually turning out okay. I want to have one of my ladies read it when I’m done and get some feedback on my romance style.

So, there’s a ridiculously personal update. How is spring treating everyone else?

Kate

PAD Day 18 – Office – My Dentist’s Hotel Lobby

Hotel de Latour, Maubourg Paris. While nothing like the dental lobby, there is an air about it that is similar.

My Dentist’s Hotel Lobby

My dentist’s waiting room is like a hotel lobby
Filled with a classy brown sofa
So soft you could order a cup of coffee
and sit for an hour or two.
Soft music plays, mixing styles
while the receptionist, Rosemarie
answers the phone so classically.
She’s cute and perky and oh so sweet.
Then there’s the elegant artwork and the glass-pained
door of dark oak… a half French door.
It’s inviting like you could stay a while.
I wrote pages of verse while waiting.
I wrote sing-song poems.
I’d go back in a flash and just sit.
But I don’t mind seeing the dentist either.

I was really impressed with how cozy my new dentist’s office was. I really was relaxed as I sat writing for an hour, since I was early. I was able to enjoy the music, all styles, but softly played. And the table and sofa were like a hotel. I was kind of ready to order a cup of tea.

Then there is my doctor’s waiting room. It changed recently as it is in a clinic setting. I’m not happy. I miss the old one that was so wonderful.  I spend more time in doctor’s offices than any other office. But I loved my family’s company office. It was always bustling and busy. I remember going there and seeing family and friends and lots of people I knew. I loved that office two.  Miss it as well.

My Doctor’s Office Has Changed

I miss my old waiting room for my doctor
when it was open and bright and cheery
where the music was so perfect I wanted to stay
and read for a while and relax listening
to the receptionists type and check things in
and the door opened and I always glanced up

But now the waiting room is dark and dingy and full
of people I don’t like, that I have to sit too close to
and I feel claustrophobic and antsy
and I want to escape as my blood pressure rises
and it’s a miracle I leave sane.

At least the other waiting room is open for a different
doctor that I see once a year, thank God
because I will relish those few moments of waiting
where before I might have panicked
but now I find solace in the soft greys and oranges
Gosh I miss that place.

Kate

PAD Day 17 – Haiku – A Bevy of Haikus

Lilac

Lilac (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Lilac blooms above
scenting the air with perfume
a moon winks his eye

Apple blossoms fall
the wind tossing pale petals
Ah spring is near gone

Apple blossoms

Apple blossoms (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Rushing creek waters
bubble and burst forth happy
a piney wind blows

Waxing Gibbous Moon

Waxing Gibbous Moon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The green lawn freshly cut
a sharp smell of green and new
Robins come to eat

Buzzing busy bees
go forth to buzz in flowers
the lilac sways here

Honestly, the thought of writing haikus today did not put me in a poetic mood. I go through phases where a haiku or two is on my mind. But for the most part, I have never had them capture my interest quite like CB Wentworth has been able to do. She is amazing with how she writes so many all the time. I am semi envious, other than for me, my poetic form is something else. So to each his own. I am glad that these haikus turned out so well. I was sitting out under the lilac after a walk and the almost waxing gibbous moon was visible. The smell of pines was like summer and just the way the lilacs waved overhead inspired me. Thank goodness. I was actually worried there as I was ready to put a pox on haikus.

I think walking is a great way to be inspired. If you are walking along a rushing creek with the smell of fresh mountain air blowing down on you, you get double points of inspiration. So a walk was clearly a need.

I hope others, if they are doing the PAD had luck with their haikus. I am excited to see what tomorrow’s prompt will be. It’s hard to believe it’s already the end of the 17th!

Kate