Posts Tagged ‘creative writing’
Neighing In
John is out of town for the weekend, and he didn’t want to bring his computer –in order to keep his travels light for flying– so he has asked the animals to fill in for him for a few days. It’s the least they could do, in the face of all the loving care he bestows on them day after day…
The Herd Makes Themselves Heard
Hunter: I’d like–
Legacy: I’ll do the talking, thank you very much. [The three chestnuts instantly defer.] Since John is gone again, we are happy to cover for him on this crazy blog thing he is always pondering on. We can hardly get a word in edgewise through his busy brain when he is toiling away among us because he is constantly ruminating over what wild, exaggerated story he can make up about our behavior.
What? You didn’t think I knew the word ruminating? Flbbblllbbbbhh. Excuse me. I had something in my nose.
Hunter: Can I–
Cayenne: Pardon me, but are we going to graze out in the pasture soon?
Legacy: As I was saying, the stories John writes about us are all blown way out of proportion. The man has no sense of scale. If he would just quiet his mind long enough to recognize the simple intricacies of what we would like to teach him, the tall tales he spins would come back down to earth and finally speak to the wider audience we think our messages deserve.
Hunter: Don’t you–
Dezirea: I just noticed some movement up on that hill beyond the neighbor’s outbuildings. Are any of you concerned?
Legacy: If John would spend a little more time making sure our hay was out here before we want it, and not after, I wouldn’t have to spend so much time staring him down when he walks by. And what the heck is it about his fascination with our feces? But enough about him. I can’t say enough good things about Cyndie. Imagine the things we could accomplish together if she would stop asking all those doctors to do surgeries on her joints. I worry that she might run out of limbs to repair and decide to start in on my aching knobby knees. <cracking sounds>
Hunter: I–
Legacy: Honestly, I’m not the complainer this is starting to make me seem. It’s been a while since I had access to such a wide audience and some of those issues hadn’t been purged for a while. I guess it’s time I should get the herd back to grazing. This place really is a paradise. [Nickering of agreement from the chestnuts.] If you ever have a chance to visit here someday, we would love to meet you. Wintervale is radiating with love and affection. We, the herd, are thrilled to be a part of this great adventure John and Cyndie have going.
As John might be heard to mutter on occasion, Namaste. If I could bring my hooves together in front of my chest, I would. Just picture me nodding my head up and down at you, with emphasis.
Hunter: Bye!
Legacy: I heard that.
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Mood
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maybe it’s this mood I’m in
that has me feeling this way
falling head over heels
for another character
Anna Kendrick played
in a movie
and getting floored
by every song
on a John Hiatt album
from deep in the stack
when did we get this old
that we look like our parents
or some of us
like our grandparents
slogging away
at the day to day
letting time sail past
unaware how it pulls
us along on the crest
flying through moods
as they materialize
conjured from unlikely sources
a dream
a picture
a thought I once had
a dog I just remembered
from a long time ago
it’s all Jello
in different colors
before photo manipulation was all the rage
but it can’t be retrieved
no matter how long we wait
so we wrestle with the trick
of figuring out how it’s still connected
with this particular minute
and I wonder what it has to do
with this mood I still find myself in
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Value
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If I’d had a chance
to think of that
maybe I would
who can say?
a picture on the wall
painted as art
worth more than the house
to the right beholding eye
a simple line
and a dot
some colors
not all that good together
from what I could see
but somewhere along the line
the painter became a name
and value simply followed
like rain drops rolling together
into larger and larger pools
into streams flowing down
dollar signs piling up
suddenly a picture
becomes like diamonds
a fancy kind of watch
melted bars of gold
they are things that don’t really matter
unless people decide they do
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Distracted
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and all of a sudden
without any explanation at all
the focus of attention jumped
from the poorly arranged merchandise
on the side of the checkout queue
to the understated, but odd colored socks
on the ankles of a person next in line
making it all the easier
to ignore the attention grabbing headlines
of publications so unbelievably stupid
it pains a brain to comprehend
how a person could even read them
which doesn’t matter in the least
when the systems of the planet
keep spinning in tighter decline
and crimes of multiple kinds
flash by every day in headlines
billionaires burning bridges
in a quest for greater wealth
blindly assuming it will protect them
from the crashing global health
turning blessed life itself
into some kind of pyramid scheme
assuming what worked before
will pan out for them once again
and they will get their precious reward
before the inevitable collapse
eventually arrives right on time
bouquet in hand
staring
a sort of Mona Lisa smile
ready to clink drink glasses
and toast ill-gotten gains
that laid to waste all that remains
as attention jumps again
to the little fingers of a child
wrapped tightly around one digit
of a distracted adult hand
all hope and love glowing
in a face of youthful innocence
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Relative Something 