Archive for the ‘Creative Writing’ Category
Uncertain Outcome
And then there is the plot twist where something is expected to happen, but nothing happens.
Now what? Carry on as usual? That feels like such an injustice to all the energy that was put into anticipating the future that didn’t quite materialize as planned. I resort to making a list.
the periodic ticking of the hot fireplace
pecking of a bird breaking open seeds outside on the ledge of one of our log wall ends
clacking of keys on her laptop keyboard
gusting wind against the house and through the pine tree branches
radio songs from 1983
furnace fan cycling on and off
crunching dry food that a cat is munching
iPhone text message received alarm
distant whine, felt more than heard, rising from the base of the neck to between two ears
What’s happenin’? The unexpected non-event, that’s what.
Extend hibernation for a little longer. The explosion of spring will not be denied, but it can be delayed.
We’ll be patient. What choice do we have?
Kill Me
.
some days, when I read of a Taliban attack
on a school principal
or a mexican drug cartel repeatedly killing town officials
or Afghans who volunteer to become police
getting blown up by a suicide bomber
I marvel over people’s willingness
to step into such threatened roles
It makes me think
just kill me now
because I support the creation of schools
the governing of towns
the policing of communities
and when you are killing those
who choose to step into such roles
you are also killing me
but I don’t actually die
I live on to see
the messes continually made
by your demented logic
just cut out all the dancing around
stop chipping away at it
kill me now
save me the hassle
kill everyone who doesn’t see things your way
kill all the innocents
kill the girls who want to learn to read
kill those willing to teach
kill the people who want to live a decent life
those willing to work
for peace and harmony
sanity
civility
respect
rainbows
diversity
a planet-full of human beings
that don’t see things
in the demented way
of your criminal enterprise
or your holier-than-thou logic
amen
.
Mysterious Conflict
.
in the deepest, darkest hours of the night
awakened by crashing and thrashing sounds
traveling through the house
toward the spaces directly under my bed
I discover a voice I’ve not heard before
a mixture of breath and growl
and a hint of a hiss
that goes on at length
telling me someone is not happy
but I can’t decipher who
and I’m tired, so I go back to sleep
hoping whatever the problem is
it will pass with the night
and normal will arise at daybreak
except we don’t make it all the way to light
when the fighting loudly resumes
and that growling breathing sound
picks up where it previously left off
its cadence speaking an eerie gloom
and I wonder with hope
if this might be
the first battle with critters
since the cats had arrived
to lay claim on this abode
since no mice have dared appear
now that cats have settled in here
and when morning eventually dawns
with rain showering from cloudy skies
that clearly filled my dreams
with visions of leaks in my house
from windows in ceilings above
and making rivers into a dirt floor garage
it takes some time
before a feline decides to appear
it’s the wee she who jumps up on the bed
obviously nervous to a dramatic degree
and I get no sense that this escapade is over
when she tries to act normal
but can’t let down her guard
shortly after, proved to be true
when he, too, showed up on the bed
trying to act as if nothing was wrong
and she immediately attacked
appearing the offending aggressor
and he takes flight with her in pursuit
and crashing and thrashing ensues
out of sight, so I only hear sounds
and I wonder, if there is fault
will I figure out who is to blame
.
.
Fooled
.
.
I have left the playing field
I have left the building
I cannot see what it is that is hurting
my chances to succeed
in this rat race that is hurling
my life past my eyes
at breakneck speed like in curling
wake the dream
shake the rug
bang the gong
take a drug
lift back down to the top of the floor
where my feet finally reach
the wide open door
and I dance oh so suave
as if I knew what it was
I’m supposed to be doing
and I see there’s a finish line
that’s no different from the start
and ponder for reasons
that make sense to my heart
but I can’t seem to grasp
what it is that has sent
me reeling, careening
really, falling apart
over something that is nothing
a hollywood foam rock
© 2006
.
.
Times Change
This morning, sunrise occurred at a new time, under the change to Daylight Saving Time in the U.S.
I saw a poll yesterday, that indicated the majority of people would prefer that we not change the clocks at all. I am included in that majority. I think it is a useless annoyance.
Something about it makes me feel like a helpless kid. I have no choice in the matter. Why do we change the clocks? Because we do. It’s just what we do. It has been in practice for over a century.
“It saves energy.”
“It helps the economy.”
“It does not.”
The debates I hear even sound juvenile to me, but that just may be the mode I’m in. I keep having thoughts about childhood, lately. Maybe it is the many times that my recent experiences on our new property are bringing remembrances of my formative years on my family’s farm property in the 1960s.
I have reduced my hours at the day-job, and spend more time here at Wintervale. I don’t have to get up and get ready to go to work everyday. When that work-day arrives, I look in the mirror and discover I have been doing less daily grooming. I don’t enjoy spending time in front of the mirror. (Maybe that is because I am seeing my reverse image.) Last week, I thought, ‘I never had to spend this kind of time when I was a kid.’
That got me to thinking about the pros and cons of being a kid:
Pro: The only grooming required is, your mom licking her hand to fix your hair.
Con: Your mom licks her hand to fix your hair.
Pro: You never have to drive yourself anywhere.
Con: You can’t drive yourself anywhere.
Pro: Your friends make you laugh.
Con: Milk comes out your nose.
Pro: You get to go everywhere with your mom, and people fawn over you.
Con: You have to go everywhere with your mom and strangers try to talk to you and pinch your face.
Pro: You get to go outside and play games with your friends.
Con: You have to register for a team and wear a uniform and be driven to an official field for games with parent coaches and kids older than you as referee.
Pro: You get to be the center of attention.
Con: You have to learn you don’t always get to be the center of attention.
Pro: You get to go to school for free.
Con: You have to go to school.
Pro: You are always learning new things.
Con: You have to learn every new thing.
Pro: The world of possibilities lies before you.
Con: There are an incomprehensible number of possibilities you must face.
Pro: You don’t have to plan each of your days.
Con: You don’t get to set the plan for your days.
Pro: You are encouraged to wish for anything you want.
Con: You might get what you wish for.
Okay, so that last one might not be a con. I got Wintervale, didn’t I? No wonder I feel like a kid again. That, and the fact I had to change the clocks today, even though I didn’t want to.
Relative Something 