New Year's Eve

I do believe, New Year’s Eve offers one reprieve

From the old. It’s cold; we have to be bold

No fear, yell and cheer for a happy new year

Party hop; can’t stop; watch the ball drop

Up late, feeling great, special kiss from ones mate

Noise pollution, absolution and short lived resolution

To get lean, house clean, stop being so mean

What a sight, come midnight, trying to live right

No fear, yell and cheer for a Happy New Year!

Daddy’s Cadillac

My father grew up as the fifth child in a family of nine children.  His father died when he was only nine years old; leaving his mother with nine children ages one year to fifteen years old.  Also leaving a mortgage on a small three bedroom house in a rural Maine town.  His mother never wanted her children to be left alone or with sitters.  So, she worked out of her home and made only enough money to meet the needs of her large family.

It was these early years that shaped my father’s desire for better things.  He was always grateful for his mother’s hard work and dedication, but he knew that he wanted to have a better life for himself and his family.  He wanted a large home where each of his children could have her own room.  He wanted to be able to take his wife on tropical vacations and most of all, he wanted to drive a big fancy Cadillac.

Writer's Block

I want to write, to write some prose

Can’t think of words… writer’s block I suppose

Nothing comes to my head, my fingers cannot type

Writer’s block is real and lives up to its hype

My mind says there is something that we need to write

But here I sit wordless, night after night

Just when I think I have something to inscribe

My mind goes blank and I am left blind

The gears are turning and I can smell smoke

But nothing comes of it, this is not a joke

They tell me write, to write everyday

But they don’t tell me how to keep the ‘block’ away

Creative juices aren’t flowing in this head of mine

I need inspiration, revelation, something divine

To the creative muses, before you I grovel

Please oh please help me write a novel….

I’ll write something clever,that will really show ‘em

Something better than this silly Writer’s Block Poem

I’ll write and write, give it all that I’ve got

Maybe I’ll win a Newbery or the Caldecott

One day I will write something in which the World will take stock

If only I can get over this horrible Writer’s block!

The Nothing

You feel it creep by the light of day

No matter what you try, The Nothing won't go away

It takes over the nights with a restless calm

The Nothing is subtle, but brings great harm

Soon the days and nights go by as one

The eyes need rest and the mind goes numb

Life becomes a surreal blur

Once The Nothing takes hold, there is no cure

Soon sleep is your only friend

The Nothing wins  - The End

Alien Anthropology

Two life forms exited the domicile.  The first is a short, long, brown quadruped with a fifth appendage attached at the back.  The other is a tall, thin, multi-colored biped.  They are tethered together.  The quadruped hauls the biped along using a decorative, narrow tow line.  The quadruped has a protective outer layer of hair.  The biped has hair only on the top and only a small amount of hair, offering little to no protection.  The quadruped uses its nose to guide the direction of travel.  The biped appears to be hauled along, clueless as to direction or destination.  The quadruped offers the biped little to no attention or praise.  The biped on the other hand is constantly offering compliments and telling the quadruped how wonderful it is.  The biped often seems to beg for praise and compliments asking such things as “who’s a good boy?”   The quadruped leads the pair and seems to have no responsibilities except to haul the biped around.  The biped follows and has certain duties.  

When the quadruped expels it processed food products, it is the job of the biped to clean up the waste material, depositing it into a small blue bag.  It then absorbs the blue bag into its multi-colored outer layer. The biped then immediately gives the quadruped more food to consume and again offers praise and worship to the quadruped.  This seems to please the quadruped as its fifth appendage moves back and forth rapidly.   

After this exchange, the pair enter a small wooded area separated by the rest of the out door space by a series of iron bars woven and twisted together.  As they enter, the biped removes his tow line from the quadruped.  The biped then, on cue from the quadruped, takes a small yellow sphere from within his multi-colored outer layer and projects it rapidly over the top of the quadruped.  The quadruped then runs and gets the sphere.  The seemingly pointless routine continues indefinitely.  The biped does not appear to enjoy this routine, but the quadruped looks joyous and content, so the biped must continue.  During this odd event, the biped continues to offer words of admiration to the quadruped.  When the quadruped grows tired of the routine, it signals this to the biped by destroying the sphere with its long sharp teeth.  The biped then places the now slimy, half destroyed sphere into its multi-colored outer layer and reattaches itself to the quadruped.  The quadruped then hauls the biped back in the direction from which they came.

The Prophecy - Chapter Four

Back in the kingdom

The people still grieved

The prophecy had promised

They would be freed

With heavy hearts

They went back about their lives

Completely unaware

That their savior survives

The evil sorceress searched everywhere

Even the surrounding mountain side

She could not find proof

That the baby had actually died

She had no proof it had lived

And could not quite admit

That she feared a mere infant

But her searches she could not quit

She felt that if the child still lived

It must never be allowed to mature

So she would continue her searches

Until she could be quite sure

She would not rest until

The death was confirmed

She interrogated the old nurse

Pushing her hard as she squirmed

The torture proved to be too much

And the old woman finally broke

She told the sorceress of the escape

She cried tears of fear as she spoke

“I took her to river

I had to set her free

She is long gone from this world

You do not have to worry”

The old woman shook

in terrible fear

The sorceress then spoke

pulling the old woman near

"I believe she has survived

Her wild river ride

And now I need to find her

From me she cannot hide"

Holidays

Christmas doesn’t arrive until December

Why do we feel the need to start in September?

The season starts earlier every year

The stores are banking on that Christmas cheer

Anxious to get shoppers in the mood

When did Christmas become about presents and food?

Christmas Eve, up until 2AM wrapping

Like a zombie on Christmas, I’d rather be napping

Cooking and prepping for hours on end

With friends and family no time to spend

So tired and cranky when the day does finally arrive

Just let it be over, get through it, survive

It is so easy to forget the real reason

We celebrate and rejoice in this season

There are many things that bring us together

Not just the snow and cold weather

Traditions through the ages have come to be

Rather it was the Christians or the pagans who first gave us our tree

It doesn’t really matter now for me

This season should be about family

I celebrate the birth of a King

But others celebrate different things

So gather together in love and joy

Either for the birth of a baby boy

The turning of the winter season

Oil burning, harvest or another reason

So forgo the shopping and all of the fuss

And have a relaxed and Merry Christmas

(or Chanukah, Kwanza, Solstice, Festivus, Saturnalia, Day of the Cat, Thanksgiving, etc.)

And a Happy New Year too!

Mission Possible (part 4)

They went back and peered down the passage.  Nothing but darkness could be seen.  Aaron decided it would be best to get one at a time.  The hallway was long and there was little room for escape should someone come towards them.  If only one of them were caught, the mission could still be successful.  He also thought that there may be a hiding spot for one, but not big enough for both of them should the need arise.  

             “OK, you go first, stay low and go quickly.  There is a small table on the left about half way down the hall.  Duck under it, I’ll be watching.  Signal to me with your flashlight when you get there, I will be watching.”  He hoped that Samantha was up for the task.  This would be a huge test for her, her first time completely alone.  Even if it was only for a few minutes, he worried she would not be able to handle the pressure.

             “I got it.  It will be fine Aaron, I can do this.  I will signal with my flashlight when it is safe for you.”  Samantha then darted out the door and scurried to the console table that held an old clock about halfway down the hallway.  She ducked beneath it and started to get out her light.   Just then the door to the family room, almost directly across from her opened.  She pulled her legs in closer her to her body and held her breath.

             “Just a minute James, I could have sworn I heard something.”  A tall man appeared in the doorway.   He stood in the open doorway and looked down the hall towards the foyer.  He then looked the other direction towards the formal living room.  “Nope, I don’t see anything.  Must be hearing things.  Let’s get this done quickly.”  He went back inside the room and shut the door.

             Down in the guest bedroom, Aaron let out a huge breath and finally relaxed his shoulders.  He had thought for sure that Samantha was about to be busted.  She had done a wonderful job of staying hidden and remaining silent.  He was proud of his protégé, his training had paid off.   Aaron then, checking the way twice, hustled down the hall, staying close to the wall.   He stopped at the edge of the skinny table, since there was no room underneath for both of them.

             “It’s not far now, we should probably go together, all or nothing.   Are you ready?”  Aaron whispered as softly as possible.

             “I was born ready, let’s do this.” Samantha replied, gathering her legs under her, for a quick escape.

             “On three…  one, two, threeeeee!”  Aaron ran down the hallway just ahead of Samantha.  They sprinted as fast as they could to the archway that led into the formal room at the end of the long hallway.  They both came to an abrupt halt.  Breathing heavily and full of adrenaline they scoped out the large highly decorated room.  There were plenty of hiding places in this room, but they needed to look for what they had come all this way to find.

The Prophecy - Chapter Three

It was a brisk afternoon

And Ilka was out to do her chores

When she noticed a large wicker basket

That had washed upon the shores

It had traveled very far

Through the dark of night

On these lush river banks

It gently came to light

The Princess bundled within

Made not a single sound

Ilka lifted the basket

Still no idea what she had found

Buried deep in warm blankets

The princess was safe and covered

When Ilka unwrapped the treasure

She knew exactly what she had discovered

The woman scooped up the child

And held her tight in her arms

Mesmerized by her size

And taken by her charms

Ilka knew the child she held

Recognized her at a glance

Not by the infamous prophecy

But by a dream she had by chance

“You are the special child

I once saw in a dream

I am meant to raise you

And keep you safe, it would seem.”

She headed back to her humble home

With the baby cradled tightly

She knew full well from her dream

That there was a danger not to take lightly

She did not know of what was to come

She had no idea of whose child she possessed

Ilka left the shores that day

Cautious, but ignorantly blessed

Ashleigh's Arrival

I figured out I was expecting in January of 1997, in fact I knew it before I had any reason to know.  I bought a pregnancy test and “What to Expect When Your Expecting” in the same shopping trip.  My husband was working for UMaine at the time.  He worked in Orono all week, and came home to Winthrop on the weekends.  I remember the weekend I told him; he seemed to already know as well.   We had planned for a child, we were thrilled.  

I wanted my family doctor to deliver our baby.  Two months into my pregnancy I found out I had abnormal kidney function.  My family doctor sent me to Dr. Pinette in South Portland, a maternal fetal medicine specialist. 

The next week, I drove the hour and ten minutes to the medical offices near the mall in South Portland.  Dr. Pinette is on the third floor.  I sat in the waiting room with a woman carrying triplets and a 13 year old girl in her 7^th month.  It was a long 25 minutes.  After my exam, I was taken into a small board room for a consultation.   Dr. Pinette, a short, stocky man who resembles a cross between Richard Gere and Buddy Hacket, entered the room.  He sat across from me and spoke in a somber, serious tone.

“You have a lot of protein leaking form your kidneys, and have all the early warning signs of pre-eclampsia.”  He said this while looking me square in the eye.  “Right now, the fetus is developing normally, I expect it won’t continue.  Our goal is going to be to get you to your 26^th week.  At that point the baby has a chance for survival.” 

Mission Possible (part 3)

Part 3

         Carefully they came back out of the office, making sure to quietly close the door completely.  Whoever had left could come back and would be suspicious if it were not exactly how they left it.  Samantha crossed back to behind the sofa and watched as Aaron started down the wide hallway.  She followed behind him, allowing enough distance should he need to turn quickly to seek cover. 

         This hallway, unlike the other, was lined with the most popular rooms in the house.  They had a feeling that the room at the end of this hallway would be exactly where they would find what they had come for.   There were several rooms currently being used on this route.  Ahead and to their left was a grand library that had two stories worth of old books and other expensive things.  Further down and also on the left was a large family room, where many of the inhabitants were gathered.  The end the hallway opened through an archway into a formal living room.  It was there they figured they needed to be to find what they were searching for.  Although they knew clues could be anywhere inside the old manor.  On the far end to the right was a large formal dining room.  There was not much in that room but a dining table that could seat twenty and huge cabinet full of beautiful plates and bowls.  Just before the dining room was a room used for viewing movies and television.  No windows in the center of the manor made for a nice dark theater environment. 

         A private guest room was the very first door on their right.  They were aware that an older man was staying in the small room.  It was the only bedroom on this floor and was reserved for guests with trouble moving freely about the house.  Aaron guessed the man would be sleeping by now, but he could not be sure.  Just as Samantha crossed in front of the door to the room, they heard a creaking of a door opening further down the dark passage.  Samantha, leaned heavily into the guest bedroom doorway and the door fell open, she toppled into the room.  Aaron rushed back to assist her and take cover.

       Aaron hurried into the small dark room and pushed Samantha slightly.  He knew he had heard someone enter the hallway, probably from the family room.  He heard footsteps and needed to be fully into the guest room to avoid being caught.

          “Hey, what are you…”  Samantha’s inquiry was met with a finger to her lips.

          “shhhh….  Someone is coming, and I believe there is already someone in here.”  Aaron said, in a voice that Samantha could just barely hear.  Sure enough, they could hear someone breathing behind them.  It was obviously coming from the big bed that practically took the whole room.  Aaron and Samantha froze where they were, listening.   Both were pretty sure that they were to be caught any second.  They stayed there, still and frightened, for what seemed like an eternity.

         Aaron was the first to move.  “I think he is sleeping.”  He said, gesturing towards the bed.  They  then heard what sounded like an injured duck.  Samantha’s eyes grew wide in fear.  “He is just snoring.”  Aaron smiled.

         Samantha took a deep breath and tried to relax.  “That was so close.”  They moved back towards the open door.  There was now no sign of whoever had been in the hallway seconds before. The hallway was once again dark, except for a small slit of light coming from under the family room door.  

The Prophecy- Chapter Two

The beautiful baby was bundled

And sent away with her nurse

Such a precious small infant

Smuggled out, hidden in a purse

They escaped from the castle and ran

A ways into the wood

For if the two were found

The consequence was understood

The evil sorceress was looking to kill

This baby if it were ever found

Born on that specific night

This child was death bound

It did not matter at all to her

That the child was royalty

A princess born on that day

Could fulfill the prophecy

The sorceress feared nothing more

Then what the Wizard had predicted

As far as she was concerned

This child had been born convicted

When she had heard the news

Of the baby’s untimely death

Skeptical, she had to be certain

The princess had drawn her last breath

  

Meanwhile, the old nurse placed

The tiny babe, as she quiver,

Into a big wicker basket,

And carefully set it into the river

With tears in her eyes,

She launched it into the world

Hoping that someone, somewhere,

Would care for the warrior girl

Walmart

The cheapest  prices

On the hot devices

Low quality suffices

Paying just minimum wage

Workers live life in a cage

Shoppers suppress retail rage

The prices undercut

Cheap food for every mutt

Workers stuck in a rut

Goodbye Mom and Pop

The people have to shop

We must never stop

Economy on the rocks

Cheap underwear and socks

Life inside the big box

In a maze like little mice

Always after the lowest price

No time for being nice

The giants win and David is down

The working man, now the clown

A Walmart for every town

.

Test post to see if I figured it out...   auto post to Author page?

New Poem

New poem, new poem how you elude

No rhyming, no rhythm, no aptitude

You remain in my pen, no words come to mind


New poem I hate you, and all of your kind 


.

Mission Possible (part 2)

They quickly slid from the closet and up against the nearest wall.  They carefully stayed low and crossed behind a sofa that sat kitty corner in the large, mostly empty foyer.  The grand staircase was flanked on either side by a long hallway.  The one they came from, and the one they were planning to head to next.  There were two offices off the ends of the foyer and the coat closet resided under the landing of the grand stairs, opposite the front entrance doors.  The front porch was rarely used.

“We should check big office, since we are pretty sure it is empty.”  Aaron tightened the straps of his backpack.  He gave Samantha a nod and they silently began to move towards the office door.

“OK, but be quick, we have no idea how long before he comes back.”  Samantha turned her back to Aaron and checked again behind them.  It was a miracle they had not yet had to explain their presence.  She did not want to be taken by surprise.  She knew their entire mission depended on moving through the large old manor without being heard or seen.  It was not any easy task; especially given the extra large number of people inside the place at the time.

Aaron gently opened the office door, making sure to not allow the usual creaking of the old hinges.   He waved Samantha into the room ahead of him.  He kept an eye out for anyone to return and ducked into the office leaving the door slightly ajar. 

“Quick, look in the closet while I check the desk drawers.  There has to be a clue in here somewhere.”  Aaron got to work quietly opening each drawer to the large old oak desk.  The bottom drawer was locked.  “I’ll bet there is something interesting in there.  We’ll need to come back here if we don’t find what we’re looking for.”  He didn’t want to spend too much time in this space, as there was no escape should someone return unexpectedly.   “Anything over there?”  Aaron whispered.

“No, I don’t see anything we’re looking for in here."  Samantha also spoke in a low tone.  She backed out of the closet and turned to face Aaron at the desk.  "There is just an old vacuum and a couple of shelves of paper.” 

Aaron again spoke softly, “let’s keep going.  They could move anytime and we are not safe in here.”  Samantha nodded in agreement.  Aaron opened the office door and peered around.  Noting that all was still clear, he turned back and motioned for Samantha to join him.  “Keep your eyes open, this is the hard part.”

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Prophecy - Chapter One

Once upon a time, long long ago,

In a distant land called Midraling

A beautiful princess was just born

To a loving Queen and kind King.

The citizenry of the kingdom

Rejoiced in the streets as the news spread

Cause according to the prophecy

The wicked sorceress would soon be dead.

The words were spoken so long ago

By a wizard of renowned esteem

“One day a small baby shall arrive,

And demolish the evil regime.”

“This princess will be born too early   

She arrives while the full moon is dark

A baby of unusual size,

The child will bare a distinctive mark.”

Word of the Queen’s premature labor

spread as the village folks awaited

And just as predicted years before

The light of the moon slowly abated.

As the tiny baby emerged,

One could already admire her charm,

And a small horn shaped birth mark

Adorned the child’s upper right arm.

The noble King was acutely aware

As he gazed at his infant daughter,

If the Sorceress heard of the birth

The child would be doomed for slaughter.

The King spoke to his loyal subjects 

From his royal stage, he then lied

“Regardless of what the prophecy said

The infant we delivered has died”

The kingdom collectively mourned

Their loss of hope, led to their dismay.

The King comforted himself, knowing that

His daughter would save them all one day.

Muse? Where the hell did she go?

I tried to write but the brain refused
Still tried harder,  so confused
Readers leaving me, not amused

I had a story with some kind of plot
I wanted to write more, but I forgot
It's nothing new, happens a lot

The right words are difficult to choose
My momentum I am going to loose
I can't seem to find my muse

Going to get a day behind
Have to keep up the daily grind
Inspiration I am going to have to find

For I know not what I'll do
If my creativity is all through
Maybe I will turn to you

Please leave ideas on this post
I will take them from any coast
Though Mainers will likely leave the most

I will try to use them with care
As I choose them, I will be fair
Friends and strangers better be aware

I never write with  mal intent
but words are often heaven sent
and they flow unfiltered, no harm meant

Not sure if today is the day
but I will write either way
I know I have more to say

Check back again to this writers blog
maybe my head will be out of this fog
I look forward to our next dialogue

Mission Possible (part 1)

They walked slowly down the old staircase, stepping carefully to avoid the creaky stairs.  The lights were off and they moved quietly through the deserted hallway.  If anyone heard them, their mission would come to an abrupt end.   Samantha peaked around the archway into the front room.

"All clear," she whispered back.  She turned enough to see Aaron give her the nod to move forward.

"Stay low when you enter and I will have your back."  Aaron turned to look back at the hallway to make sure no one surprised them from behind.

"We're good," she replied, though so quietly Aaron could not have possibly heard her.  Samantha checked the front room and made her way across while staying low and out of sight.  She motioned back to Aaron, who had turned back towards her just in time to see her signal.  While she watched, he made his way across the front room, staying low and stepping lightly.

Just then, they heard someone move in one of the offices off the front room.  The noise was getting louder and it seemed obvious that whoever was in the office was headed right towards them.

"Quick, in here!" Aaron grabbed Samantha's hand and dragged her into the coat closet nearest the front door.  They stood still,  hardly breathing, waiting for the unknown person to pass them.  They heard the office door open and close and they heard footsteps grow faint as the person walked into a different part of the huge old mansion.

"That was close," Samantha spoke softly, as Aaron was about 2 inches from her.

"Yeah,  too close.  We could have been caught.   Maybe this mission is too dangerous."  Aaron was never sure about this effort.   He was not convinced that Samantha was truly up for an assignment of this caliber.  She was still so young.  She had shown a lot of potential and was extremely sharp.  He only hoped he had not gotten her in over her head on this one.  "Ok,  lets get back out there.   You're sure about this?"

"I am sure.  This means as much to me as it does to you.  We can do this.  I can do this."  Samantha had that determined look on her face.  Aaron knew there was no way he would ever convince her to give up now.  They were in too deep.

Aaron slowly opened the door to the closet and checked the room once more.  All was quiet and there was no sign that anyone was about.   The hallway they had come from remained dark, but the hallway on the other side of the room had light coming from under a door about halfway down.

"This is going to be trickier"  Aaron warned.  "I think they are gathered in there, we may not make it by without getting caught."

"We can do this,"  Samantha said, reassuringly.  "We have to."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Who Am I?

Who Am I?

Creating poetry that is new
Is not an easy task
Now I have a job to do
Decloaking my mask
You think you know me, I am more then what you see

Just a girl, no a woman now
Everyone thinks they know
All I see is an actress somehow
Nice, polite, going with the flow

Doing everything as it should be done
Under who's control am I?
No one can see me run
How do I keep going on the fly?
All I am is what I do
Mother and wife, this is my life

Big Brown Leather Whip

      When I was younger I spent most of my weekends at my Grandparent’s house in the woods.

The house was more like a museum of  memories than it was a house.  Each item in that old house had it’s own special story, even the house itself had a unique history.  I heard all those stories so many times,  by the time i was eight years old I could tell them almost as well as Gramps could.  But there was one story I never tired from hearing, and Gramps never tired from telling.   It was the story of the big  brown leather dog whip.  It had its own special spot on the living room wall, right  between Gramp’s old trumpet and the violin that Gram played in high school.  I’d climb up into Grampa’s lap and say “tell me again about the whip.”  He’d chuckle and then with the same enthusiasm as  the very first  time, he’d begin:

         “It was way back in the  twenties.  My brother, Alden, and I wanted  something to do awful bad.  So we decided to learn how to run dogs.  We  had so much fun that Alden wanted to try running the dogsled from Lewiston all the way up to Montreal Canada. He had friends up that way.  That’s over 600  miles!  Now Alden wasn’t much for keepin’ to himself so pretty soon  word got out and before I knew it, we were  running the mail  into Montreal with stops in over 118  towns along the way.  It would be the first international mail run by dog sled.”

Bonus Writing... poem to Heather and Kendra

Headed out to UMA

But on her way

She stopped at Target

In her boots of leather

Worried about the weather

She picked up Heather

At Target she did stop

To take a moment to shop

Maybe buy another green top

They then left in Vera

And as UMA grew nearer

It could not have felt queerer

For Kendra’s heart was broken

Cause Heather had not spoken

(probably dreaming of Tolkien)

Heather finally said

“I thought I was dead…

You do know that light was red!”

Kendra gave a smile

For she knew all the while

But had been texting that last mile

Safely they did arrive

Glad to be alive

The rain they did survive

Lets have a good night

Kendra said with might

After all, we are here to write!

Me option racecar no it poem

Loneliness is not the end

one wants so much more

your heart may start to mend

meeting others becomes a bore

being open to love is the key

the right one is hard to find

you look and look until you see

when you know, you lose your mind

when the right one comes along

the heart does what it pleases

like there is a secret song

the other's heart teases

love can come rushing in fast

love can trickle into view

emotions can be large and vast 

signs can remain small and few

love is the ultimate goal

it can conquer one's soul

it can conquer one's soul

love is the ultimate goal

signs can remain small and few

emotions can be large and vast

love can  trickle into view

love can come rushing in fast

the other's heart teases

like there is a secret song

the heart does what it pleases

when the right one comes along

when you know, you lose your mind

you look and look until you see

the right one is hard to find

being open to love is the key

meeting others becomes a bore

your heart may start to mend

one wants so much more

Loneliness is not the end

Brian

My heart jumped inside my chest, pounding.  He was gone.  I barely turned around.  The sounds of the crowd and the machines blended together and fell away.  All I could hear was my heart BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.  My head was spinning.  Think.  Where would he go? The giant slide?  The carousel?  Slowly the noises around me came back into focus; the whirling of the giant motor next to me and the laughs and screams of the children on the Tilt-A-Whirl were almost deafening now.  Don’t panic.  I took a deep breath; it tasted of dust and smelled like French fries.  I started to run for the slide.  He had really enjoyed the slide.  The line for the round up was in the way, I pushed through, running, I then tripped over a black hose.  I could taste the blood from my lip.  I didn’t even care about the dirt now covering the front of my shirt.  

Ode to a Blog

My dearest Blog -

Oh how I intend to love thee
my words shall inspire
I will write to thee daily
I shall tell you all I desire

Every year I make this promise
and I mean it, I really do
can I help it that by February
I have already forgotten you?

This year, dear blog,
I know I can do better
I'll write paragraphs, maybe...
 just words, but at least a letter

I can do it, I know I can
I shall write and write and write
everyday I will sign in
writer's block I will fight

I will not forget you
this year will be the one
I will write everyday
IT WILL BE DONE!

So rest easy blogspot
my sweet and dear
I have a strong feeling
This is our year!

Halloween

It is a dark and stormy night,
the wind howls in the distance
the scene is set for fright
Halloween needs no resistance

The pumpkins are lit
the walkways are clear
At last,  this is it
that scary time of year

Excited children walk along
knocking on doors, in disguise
they continue to sing their song
thoughts of candy in their eyes

In the rich neighborhood
most the porch lights lit
the candy is good
none of that cheap sh... stuff

The cold and the rain
seem to only slow the adults
they yell to stop, but only in vain
their protests yeild no results

Ghosts, minions and a witch
Gem,  a pink power ranger
A ninja and two super heros, Stitch
Walking together, no one a stranger

The kids hurry to the next door
the parents slogging behind
hopeful eyes beg for more
accepting treats of every kind

Eating car exhaust
as vans move slowly down the street
parents avoiding the frost
while children freeze their feet

All to fill that special bag
or pumpkin shaped pail
in their quest for candy swag
they refuse to fail

Despite the rain and snow
through the slushing sleet
On they will go
till their mission complete

Flashlights in hand
and glo-sticks a ready
costumes well planned
tiny feet not too steady

That scary time of year
at last, this is it
the walkways are clear
the pumkins are lit

Halloween needs no resistance
the scene is set for fright
The wind howls in the distance
It is a dark and stormy night.

Practice

Practice makes perfect
or so the saying goes
and so I write
maybe poetry, perhaps prose

Roses are red and
violets are blue
I think I can do better
don't you?

Maybe one day I will write
a poem so deep
it will take the world by storm
and make everyone weep

I doubt it will happen
at least not today
I will settle for a chuckle
If I have my say

I write to practice
this excellent craft
I will be satisfied
when we can say you laughed

Maybe not now,
as nothing here is too funny
but someday, somewhere
maybe it will be sunny

You wont be expecting it
and it will take you by surprise
my words will just hit you
like a face full of pies

I know I will do it
Mark you my words
Nothing is easier
than entertaining nerds

So Heather and Julien
Kendra and Tracie
Linda and Debi
Angela and Staci

Read my musings
comment just for fun
I will continue to write
there is much work to be done...

First Post - Warning

Once upon a time I created a blog.  Then I created another and another.  Each year I made a vow to write in a blog everyday, and it never ended happily.  Then there came a great and powerful promise.  A promise like no other.  A promise inspired by creativity and backed by dedication to a craft, not a new year's resolution.  Though it came about in December, this promise is not just another vow to blog.  This is a pledge to write.  To write something creative and imaginative.  To reach beyond my own existence and my own boring life.  To reach into the crazy thoughts that go through my mind constantly.  I will write in this place they call BLOGGER ville and I will do so daily. It will be good (ish) and IT  WILL HAPPEN.  I make no promises that anyone outside of my crazy mind will understand what I have written and I do not promise it will be anything other than crapolla.   It will be written just the same.   You may be influenced by what is written,  you may be revolted, inspired, sickened, entertained or none of the above...  read at your own risk.   You have been warned.