Magpie Tale # 5

Magpie Tales hosts a writing prompt every week.
 

http://magpietales.blogspot.com/

This is the prompt:

He imagined it the hand of Christ.
It was, after all ,a Salvation Army Thrift Store.
He believed in miracles and knew that this was one... his.
So he stood in line to pay the $5 asking price,
in pain,feeling sweaty and faint.
A young teenager suddenly grabbed the wooden hand
and folded back all the fingers, except for the middle one,
and began flashing it around....
"Give that back to me you punk" he yelled and began
struggling with the young man to get "Christ's" hand back.
The young man reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a knife
and stabbed him, while yelling out,
"Freak old man, son of a bitch freaking old man!"
then dropped the hand onto the old man who then slid
onto the white tile floor bleeding.
"Oh,my God,Jesus!" the store clerk cried out,
"Someone call an ambulance. Lie still old man,you'll be fine,just hang in there!"
"I have to buy that hand of Christ," he said faintly to the Mexican
woman who was trying to apply direct pressure to his wound.
She saw his eyes stare and then took his hand and began praying
the Lord's prayer over him.
The old man only heard Our Father...and then he was gone...
the hand of Christ upon him,
miracle complete.

*******

It was early and I had just made coffee, fed the critters,and had chopped up chicken for Handsome. When I opened the patio door drapes he wasn't there. So just for the heck of it I stuck my head out of the door and called,"Handsome,Handsome!" and lordie if I didn't hear him answer me from the bushes across the yard ....and he came a runnin....home.
Must be good chicken.

Sharing

Remember I told you I was cleaning out my writing closet? Well, I found a wonderful book , the
 2005 Wisconsin Poet's Calendar. My experience with Wisc. poets is that they support each others work. Maybe it's the long winters,maybe it's the large amount of workshops offered up there,or maybe it's just the good cheese. But they are a pleasure to be with. Of course I had to sit down and read the darn book,cover to cover. ANd one poem jumped out at me......I could have written it ..wished I had....but it belongs to a poet named, Shirley Brander, and it is called
The Getaway    (sounds like a title I'd use, too)..I hope she doesn't mind if I share it with you.

The Getaway

I didn't wash the dishes
and there were bills to pay.
The laundry was piled on the chair unfolded,
and the countertop was cluttered with papers.
But when his getaway car pulled into the yard
I left it all and hurried away with him.
We talked on paths strewn with brown oak leaves
and we sat on fallen trees beside a dimpled river.
We listenend to the robins and watched the ducks
racing iceburgs downstream.
We turned our faces to the breeze
and we forgot the unfinished chores.
Then we forgave ourselves our forgetfulness,
because it was the first day of a new spring
and it will never come again.
          ***

Now isn't that nice
and isn't it true
So when are you planning your getaway
and with whom?

*****
we never get today back, so spend it...all of it in joy love and beauty!!!
______

I delighted in the patterns
formed by ice in the birdbath,
knowing quickly the water
already was taking them away
bowing to the sun

ROBINS!

I heard them first.
That singing that woke the spirit within me that waits for spring's first sign.
And for me it is the return of the robins.
I took a walk and found them near the park,facing the sun,
that godlike presence in the sky
that is faithful.
I am renewed...
went back home and searched in the debris of winter
for signs of life,
and they were there,
waking to the call of the robins
I'm certain.

Microfiction Monday # 21

140 characters or less based on this prompt from

http://www.stonyriver.ie/

                                           

 If you can pose like a beauty queen, so can I.



****

See what I saw this week

I guess I'm home
*

Giraffes

Evening light
*

Rear Window
*

The beat goes on

conformity
*

Oz

Out of

*

Anyone else seen Shutter Island?

Because if you have,we need to talk. And if you write,I really want to talk to you. I feel ripped off..cheated and lied to.
I don't care if it is Martin Scorsese...
When the screen went to black...the theater went stone deaf
until a brave guy sitting behind me said..."Hey, we got another hour coming to us"...and the movie was almost 3 hours long...what does that tell you.
But...that's not my question for you.
I think either they goofed
or the movie didn't end the way we all thought it did... I should give the ending away so you don't waste TEN BUCKS!
The movie is told from the point of view of one person... as much as I can remember...I'd have to watch it again...AND THAT AIN"T GONNA HAPPEN....
there is one scene that I have been arguing about with my husband
I say point of view changed...in one scene HUH! We see through someone else's eyes!
IF THIS IS TRUE....all bets are off
SO if you have seen this movie please let me know
before I GO MAD

Kreativity Blogger Award

M.Heart of http://secretnotebookswildpages.blogspot.com/ has informed me that I am one of the bloggers she has passed on the Kreativity award to that she enjoys reading. Thank you M.heart for reading my blog. I bless the day I found your blog..a joy to read and see.
___________

Now I have to tell you 7 interesting things about myself. I'm not that interesting,but I gave it a try in the spirit of participation. I also need to pass this noteworthy award on to bloggers I enjoy reading. Now, some bloggers don't want awards..and I would truly want to give you one,but I respect your wishes. And others have already received this award recently. So here are few that I stoke up the computer every morning and check on...see what they're up to or doing.
WORDS   This fellow is a storm chaser with a great passion for photography. He also is a stunning pencil artist.
AND THEN SHE SAID   Remember her name..she will be famous. She is a fantastic artist from Australia who has a love affair with the ordinary.
http://elena-myquest.blogspot.com/   Elena will lead you on her journey of discovering herself as an artist and woman. Never a dull day.
http://joyfrequencies.blogspot.com/  This kindred woman from England is a writer and lover of words. She is a joy to know.

Now, they are asked to pass this on and let us know who they enjoy reading and award them.

SEVEN INTERESTING THINGS ABOUT ME (I probably would never tell you)

 -On a camping trip with my parent in 1958,along the shore of the Fox river,I found an arrowhead.

       -While swimming in lake Michigan at the Indiana Dunes in 1963,I was caught in an undertow and almost drowned.
-I found a headstone buried by the basement stairs of our first house.

-Few believe me to this day, but I saw a UFO in 1962...I'm talking saucer

-I once broke up a fight between 3 teenaged boys in Burger King. That was in my stupid 30's

-After a White Sox game last summer I jumped in and helped my husband break up a real nasty fight between two young men...that was in my stupid  50's

-I can never watch the movie, IN COLD BLOOD, again.

Now aren't you glad you know all that?!?!
Thank you,again M.Heart.

Magpie Tale #4 ( A second story)

                               
I handed my mother the present.
My Aunt Sally laughed as she looked at the little carving that my mother had unwrapped.
"What is that nasty looking thing?" my aunt asked.
"It's a boar," I said proudly,just having learned this myself.
My mother ignored her sister and held the little carved animal up to the light as if she were examining a diamond.
"It's beautiful, Mazie," she said pulling me close enough to her that I got lost in her perfume. "Where ever did you get it?"
"I raked Mr. Booth's whole yard for it. He said he always saw me oogling it everytime I came over to help him with the garden,and since he wasn't getting any younger, he might as well find a good home for it. That's when he told me it was a boar from Africa. He said it's made of healing stone.He said he didn't need it anymore and did I know anyone who could?
"I told him, I did."
She smiled that smile that she always smiled when she could hardly hold back tears.
"I love it Mazie, I just love it."
She put it on the window sill that faced the street and frequently went over to it and commented on how pretty it was and how much she like looking at it.

But I knew, I always knew, it was him she was looking for...looking for him to come back,
and my father never did.


****This was my second story using this prompt.
I hope you can take the time to read the first.***

Magpie tales #4

http://magpietales.blogspot.com/ 

host's a weekly writing prompt to write a poem or vignette from.

This is the photo prompt for the week.

I wasn't sure if it was a pig or an elephant.

I wish I had more time to come up with something better

..almost skipped this one

But, I always love a challenge

and this was one. So here's my take:

A carved little elephant
that one summer evening
slipped from my hands
in a fight with my big brother
on the front porch of our house.
A porch whose floorboards tilted
and had seperated from the wall.
I watched as it fell from my hand rolled
across the floor and was gone into that crack.
All these years I have wondered about
that elephant that I spent the whole summer
hating my brother over.
Is it still there waiting
in the dark,in the dirt, with the bugs?
My brother died when he was 24,
fell asleep, hit a pole,
slipped through the hole that
separates us from life.
Somtimes I want to just go to that house,
crawl under that porch, and find that elephant...
Rescue something from darkness


***

all too fast
all of this is over
all of it

breathe the day
breath in your life
breathe

love this moment
love what is given
love is God

let go what you cannot hold
let go be free
let go,all of that

all too fast
all of this is over
all of it

and tonight I'm making chili

***

we've become something bigger
another connection being formed
deeper than an endless deepness

the wee one smiled today
tried to catch his hands
while I looked on caring
for him
as his mother,my daughter
left him to finish class

I saw in her face a longing not to leave
but she honored her commitment
..but will end it soon for him
her wee little boy, her son

she sees in the stillness of her heart
that she is his mother
and it is her milk that makes him grow
and she wants her smile to greet him
and her knowledge of right and wrong
to guide his way
she sees the purpose

I brought stew on Friday and
baked ziti on Monday
a strong desire to cook

smiled as I greeted her
gave her counsel as asked for
and I see the purpose

so tonight I make chili

***

I know,keep moving

I had so much fun writing those two shorts from those various photo prompts.... bathed in the generous comments,dreamt of a big white cow last night....but it's over...it's now Tuesday....sober up Sue...You are only as good as your next act!  I can't wait!

  I wanted to be a poet. But writing classes,poetry magazines,open mics,academics,and other poets killed that for me. Now I just write poetry for the pure pleasure of expression. Oh it's a hoot when someone actually connects with your poem....but after all these years on earth...I know I have to connect with me, be honest,  write in my own way.
 Ordinary folk don't "get" poetry.....If it doesn't rhyme like a Hallmark card..they stare at you with pitiful eyes.  I understand that. I had to start slow on poetry. Here's how it happened.
My friend invited me to join their writing group...bring a small sample of your writing she says.
Okay...I show up with my 'piece" called, Mrs.Karas. They ask me to read first. As I'm rounding page two of my little story about a woman who thinks an old lady in the grocery store has taken in her cat.....I sense the room's energy has changed. I pause,look up. The leader says 'Continue, Dear."  I finish, they say they like it and then proceed to tell me that this is a poetry group.
This has happened to me before. I once went to a New Age shop for an Artist's Way Group and mistakenly sat in the Shaman from Siberia's group....I'll tell that story some other time.  Anyway, I was so embarrased,but I pledged to write a poem for the following week. Poem-shoem...what did I know from poem. For the next week I read every poem I could get my hands on. My first poem was a rhymer....here it is: (and no snickering)
Family Tree
Searching the graveyard
a date or a clue
maybe a tombstone
a lost name or two
mystery abounds as I
walk 'ore the plots
maybe a kin, maybe a not

What strikes me the most
is we all are the same
families have losses
and families have pain

I find a new kinfolk
an angel carved deep
I take down her info
and leave her to sleep

Now, I was happy with this poem and so was the group. But a monster had been unleashed in me..where had poetry been all my life....I found myself obsessed with poetry. Soon I outgrew this group and went on to a more advanced group. There is no heaven on earth. Where the first group was content with writing ditties....not obsessed with metaphor,similies,enjambment,line break, and such, as I was...The other group....consisted of published poets that obsessed on themselves and their credentials.....they cared only about their work,no one else's..what's the point I wondered. It's poetry...don't you get it...it's mother's milk......they had forgotten.

"It's absurd to think that the only way to tell if a poem is lasting is to wait and see if it lasts. The right reader of a good poem can tell the moment it strikes him that he has taken a mortal wound----that he will never get over it. That is to say,permanence in poetry as in love is perceived instantly.
It hasn't to await the test of time"..........Robert Frost

I enjoyed poetry his way.....then I discovered short story, and then flash fiction, and now 140characters...who knew?  I am filled with joy challenging myself..expressing to myself things inside of me that want words.

Life goes on its merry complications and winter is still dragging on, and I still need to lose weight, and my mother needs visiting, and my writing friends want to get together, and my other friends dont' want to be forgotten...and then there's the family...hubby.....shopping,cleaning (yes I clean my own house) bill paying, critter caring......when's a girl going to write or paint or draw....or do anything creative......
She finds a way!
.. I leave you with this:

THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
----Wendall Berry

  I have taken a mortal wound
and I will never get over it....thank you Mr. Berry.

Magpie Tales #3

Magpie tales host a photo prompt at http://magpietales.blogspot.com/, where every week you are given a photo prompt to write a poem or vignette.

This is the photo for this week

Here's my take:

She saw me hesitating a bit and reached into the display case and pulled out the measure.

"Everything in this section is 20% off today,nifty little item isn't it? Heavier than it looks."

I think of holding it in my hand but recoil in thought. A sudden dreadful wind blows in my mind and I am no longer in the antique shop,but walking the past decade of my life.

She weighed 2.2lbs at birth,just like this shaped hunk of ore that was once used for trade,honest trade. 

They said I was too young to care for a sick baby. I gave her up, traded my baby for freedom.

"No, thank you," I say backing away from the case.

"You'll never find another one like it," she says rolling it around in her fingers.

"No, I never will," I say, my heart heavy as lead. 

Microfiction Monday

MICROFICTION MONDAY #20   PHOTO PROMPT - My take on it




The white one is scary,
but I think the brown one laying back in the weeds
has a cowpie launcher.
If they take another step toward us Doris, floor it!





I found microfiction monday through  sylviafromoverthehill.blogspot.com. She posted a wonderful microfiction story based on this photo from Susan  over at http://www.stonyriver.ie/ who hosts Microfiction Mondays,where you tell a story, based on a photo she has chosen, of only 140 characters or less.


***Suz

WARNING SIGN

I think this kid is going to be an artist

My day job

She rules the house

I love dogs,but somehow cats decided long ago to push them out and take over.
When this one arrived in my life we had one cat in the house named,Webster. Webster came to us from the animal shelter. But this story is not about Webster...Kitty reminds me of this as I'm writing this; I want to tell you about Miss Kitty O'Shea.
About six years ago I was lying on the couch deathly sick with the flu.
I heard my husband walk to the back patio door and open it.
I heard him come back inside talking.
I was too sick to look up or answer him, besides I don't understand his words...I have a pounding headache.
Well, I hear him talking in a sweet voice. Oh, I forgot to tell you that it is snowing outside.

"You poor baby,I'll bet you're cold and hungry..."

I think he's talking about me and to me....I lift my head
There in front of me is my husband-a small kitten laying across his forearm......
He had brought in this little cat about 7 months old
need I say she is still here.......
My daughter was going to take her, but Webster had taken a swipe at this kitten and her eye was injured and I had to take her to the vet and.....We named her Miss Kitty O'Shea.....after a downtown restaurant and bar we had been in and our admiration for the toughness of Irish women..
She's still here
But the best part of the story is that 63 days latter.....yeah, you guessed it...KITTENS!
She had four kittens, one died two days after birth. Miss Kitty was the most wonderful mother...it was a delight to witness..Everyone of her kittens ...she had a different call for....she actually called them ..she did a head count several times a day and she had a different call for feed time....and she made gutteral sounds for contentment (not purr) while feeding them.....her paw around them
My daughter took one and her friend took two...well ,now my daughter has all three.....long story
Miss Kitty has not spoken since we took her kittens away..I miss her sounds...
Needless to say, she is fond of my husband
I think they are two cranks
who fall asleep on the couch after dinner
watching tv..
fighting for dominance of the sofa
You know who wins?
Funny to watch a grown man squished

Today was a girlfriend day.
The other grandma watched Finn..so whoopee...I couldn't say "yes" to breakfast and going to Homegoods fast enough...with my buddy, Mary. I had to mention her name..'cause she knows I blog now and she loves her name in lights!

We had fun bumping into each other in the aisles and oooing and ahhing at all the pretty stuff. I was looking for something for my garden...what else is new?
Mary managed to hold onto every penny in her purse....how DOES she do that?

Oh and I also got my hair cut and colored ....all that in one whole day..can you imagine that.
And.. I worked on a little painting and some collage....wow.....must be all this supressed inner-me-ness!

Mary and I are going to the same Black Tie affair on a Yacht this May......and we both need to shape up for our
slinky dresses....hehehe
I watch her..she watches me.
I asked my husband if he would drop me and Mary off in Galena...no car...and only with the food we should eat....and if we wanted anything....we would have to walk up and down those blasted hills!

What do you think? ...  I asked him...

Why, do you believe he actually said....
 YOU AND MARY WOULD JUST ORDER CARRY OUT.....

..the nerve of that man.

Dusting off the sketchbook

I haven't drawn lately. But I had a sudden urge to look at my sketchbooks....guess I needed to connect with that part of me
that I feel is stirring.
A simple thing...to keep a sketchbook.....you carry it around
and sit a while (which is something I should do anyway)
carry it around and just draw the ordinary.
In high school art class I had to keep one for the whole semester....for my grade
I wish I would have kept it
I would have sketches of
...Soldier Field and a demolition derby
...Beverly Shores Indiana
...It's Here Coffeehouse
...Peter Cora's Coffeehouse and Samatha the folk singer
...Michigan cherries
...the beach at 76th street
...the dragstrip
...and who knows what else I have forgotten

I'm glad I kept my grown up sketchbooks
(actually I tossed them in a drawer)

And seeing them fresh...seeing something that has rested in a drawer for a while
you look at it in a more compassionate way
It's not bad...not bad at all
:)

Walking up the stairs of my daughter's house,doing my good mother deed,I happened to take a wee glance down at my feet, and the shock of what I saw nearly sent me flying onto her porch swing!
Green, I tell you! Green! My whole being has been starvin for a shot of any color that isn't on a street sign or fire hydrant....and I'm sick of "winter color"...let's stop kidding ourselves...they're just dried up old plants! Dead...d.e.a.d..!!
But this....is living.... Green....oh, it is almost March isn't it? And she does live in Chicago! ... must be enchantment of the wee people....
 Finn! That's Irish!  .....must be the magic of the wee child!
Oh, I don't care whose enchantment it is...I'm lovin it! Loving it!

Trumpets of yellow
on my window sill
look that much better
against Winter's will

Their brazen color
before frozen white
Wanton joy they bring
a weary soul's delight

It's hard not to be filled with wonder
awakening to a fairyland of snow
covered branches

Like an enchanted being
I tarry at the top of the stairs

forgetting at this moment
the poison apples that await me
on the road this morning

Scratching away
at the snow covered feeder
I wonder
if the Purple finch
dreams of summer
Or is his thought
only of today
getting to the seed first
this early morning