Raindance

On the sidewalk

Dark spots spring up

Like cities on a map.

They crowd closer and

Tighter

Until the cement is flooded,

Reflecting the ash tree

In my yard.

The rain pats the pansies

Which lifen their satin-smooth

Petals and makes them

Rise to the azure sky.

Steam rises and floats;

Drifts away down the avenue.

And it pours...

Wisdom

An antique;

Frail with age

Yet Hardy.

Its posture stooped.

The chair's grain

Protruding as veins

From a gnarled hand.

Its legs are weak

But still retain some strength

As time has toughened them.

Under the dusty film,

A polished surface lies

Waiting for someone to question

Whether it still remains

Wiping a finger

Thru its gritty layer.

Of course, I have other things to do

But I found my old writing notebook from college and I read and really liked some of the things I wrote back then. So I'm going to re-disgorge them in the next few posts. Poetry, mostly. I might just go verbatim from what I'd written, then take myself to task to improve them.

On the other hand...

Beanie, Spiked, Slyly

Write two sentences. Between the two of them, use every single part of speech.

The lame giraffe quickly shuffled under the bridge. When he thunked his head on the catwalk, he realized “hey, I’m too tall for this!”

Poetry -- not my strong suit

I used to love to write and read and interpret poetry. Robert Frost's "Birches" has long been my favorite, eliciting mental images and pangs of a long-gone childhood.

Today's assignment was to think of your favorite holiday and write down the first six words that came to mind when thinking of that holiday.

I didn't cheat, but I wish I had.

Here are my words:

Bunnies

Eggs

Pastels

Ears

Hiding

Dresses

Bunnies appear each spring and hop

With wiggly noses and long ears on top

The eggs are boiled, dyed and drying

All pastel and in the basket grass a’lying

Then begins the hidings and the huntings

Gleefully, in pretty dresses and in buntings

Yes, I shoulda cheated.

Igloo Living

Today's assignment (OK this YEAR'S assignment) is:

If you knew you were going to be banished to an igloo for the rest of your life, what five items would you take along? (Assume you would get all the food, water, heaters and warm clothes you would need). Write a paragraph about what you would take and why.

Exile. Looking back, I knew I'd do it again. As the dogsled mushed on, I could see the wire enclosure around the 15X15 igloo that stood starkly against the dirty ground. My bag contained few items; I was assured that the containment unit would have clothing, food and toiletries. I stuck my hand inside and felt the cold length of the pencils inside -- dozens of them clicked together and rolled through my fingers as we bumped along. The slightly rough feel of the leather-bound journals was comforting. Writing had always been a compulsion for me, and I knew I'd need it even more in my solitude. Those who would come after me could read, in at least one volume perhaps, the story of how I was framed and wound up in that place. Hatred boiled in me and I lifted the thick book and inhaled deeply of its leathery smell. Another comfort I couldn't be without. The aroma of lightly processed cowhide could soothe me as only certain smells could. I couldn't bring a baby fresh from a bath or freshly mown grass or hay, my other favorite comfort smells. Leather would have to hold me. Inside one of the pockets of my bag was a poster I'd created of pictures -- my parents, my childhood, my family, my horse. A picture of a lake at sunset with a storm brewing overhead, a daisy, an arid desert. My home, my truck, a library -- they were all pictured at the bottom. A jump rope lay coiled and ready at the bottom of the bag. I couldn't stand to be completely idle and I knew the area within the enclosure was only a few feet wide on any side of the igloo. Not enough room to do much. The jump rope gave the added purpose that if ever I decided that life was too long... The final item I had encased in a clear PVC case -- I could see it but it would never deteriorate. It was the Cardinal card. My mother sent me that card one time after a fight and whenever I was despairing, it would be there for me -- it would turn up in my bedside drawer or behind a picture or in the refrigerator. It gave me hope, it told of her friendship and love. I hoped that she'd never see me where I was headed -- I hoped that heaven didn't afford that view. Without her to position it where I needed it, it was up to me. I knew it too had to come. The sled stopped and I knew I had only a few minutes to get into the enclosure. I stood, nodded to the driver, and dug my fingers into the long silky fur of the swing dog. His tongue lolled as he looked up at me. I turned, walked into the enclosure and pulled the gate closed with a click.