Monthly Archives: March 2011

Waiting For Words

words run away
like wishes leaping off a bridge
I would leap too if you
told me to
I would do it all
dare and doubledare
bet I would
if I could
though I know
I shouldn’t

thoughts slip through
sticky fingers
steal away tomorrow
just on the edge of dawn
I’m safe here
maybe that’s the problem
too much comfort
not enough chance

I try to catch them
off in the nether fields
of green waiting for rain
waiting for sun
for a mind that is calm
for a settled heart
for hands that catch
but not cling
for words that rest easy
on paper that doesn’t
accuse
as though I committed
a crime that sits
heavy on shoulders
that would carry more
I wait

Always Time For A Commercial Break

AllPoetry prompt: Convince Me

have I got a deal for you
a steal the wheel will spin
and you can win and breast
enhancement penis
implants whiter teeth
fresher breath will all be yours
for just a song a shamwow
cleans and disinfects and wait
there’s more the steak knives
change lives grow some
hair where you have none
make it leave those unwanted
spaces the places we won’t mention
hey did I tell you
here to sell you glory genius
perfect abs no anal leakage
plumbing seepage shake
the flakes I got what
it takes and it can be yours
and if you hurry scurry
curry favor with the credit
card folks just dial the number
for deeper slumber
husband a slob?
no prob say goodbye
to rags and mops and
arches that drop just look at me
I’m sixty three and not a wrinkle
no drippy tinkle live forever
decay never you’ll be broke
but you’ll look good
in that prepaid coffin
they cart you off in

March Night

five cent moon
in a million star sky
astronomers eyes
ages past
mapping out heaven
as though it could
be quantified
qualified to describe
a universe hung with
more care than the icicles
on mama’s Christmas tree
“you can’t just stand there
and throw them
just because you like
the sparkle”
she said.
there’s beauty in order
and caring shows
I hear sirens in the distance
and feel the weight of
dark matter pressing down
the souls marching through
time and space
those I loved and lost
all who came before
whisper breeze of nightbird
wings in passing
lifts weight
and stars become stars
once again
chaotic dancing
as I watch them sparkle

TedTalks

I hope I am able to embed this video.  If you are unfamiliar with TedTalks, it is TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design) is a U.S private nonprofit foundation best known for its conferences, now held in Europe and Asia as well as the U.S., devoted to what it calls “ideas worth spreading”. …

I was familiar with a little of the genetic “engineering” that goes on, but not to this extent.  Mr. Wolpe suggests that we take a close look at our ethical responsibility regarding what we are already able to do, and what we will be able to do in the future.

“Paul Root Wolpe examines the ethical implications of new science — genetic modification, neuroscience and other breakthroughs that stretch our current philosophy to the breaking point. He’s the chief bioethicist at NASA, among other appointments.

Paul Root Wolpe directs the Center for Ethics at Emory University,  where he works on the biggest issues most of us face in our life-long ethical journey: death and dying, new reproductive technologies, and new medical and scientific breakthroughs that are not covered in our traditional ethics (what would the Bible say about growing a human ear on a mouse?).

He’s also the chief bioethicist at NASA, where he advises on the medical experiments that happen during space travel.”

 

 

In case it does not embed I have provided a link to the video.

TedTalks Paul Wolpe

 

 

Fake Social Network Projects For Students

Web Writing Projects

Fake iPhone Text

http://www.fakeiphonetext.com/

Click Create and fakeiphonetext.com will generate a picture that resembles actual text on an iphone.



My Fake Wall

create a fake facebook page about a historical or literary character.‭ ‬You can include people your character would have been friends with,‭ ‬geographical information,‭ ‬educational background,‭ ‬groups they would have joined,‭ ‬family members.

http://www.myfakewall.com/

Here is a Word Template if you prefer

Fake Tweet Builder

You may have heard of twitter which is a social networking site.‭  ‬You can post short blocks of text called tweets.‭  ‬You are limited to‭ ‬140‭ ‬characters per tweet.

Result without customization:

A few more fun things:
http://vozme.com/index.php?lang=en‭  ‬type or paste in a block of text,‭ ‬click choose male or female voice,‭ ‬click create mp3

You know those URLs that are two miles long and by the time the student has typed it in,‭ ‬found their spelling error and gotten to the correct site,‭ ‬the class period is nearly up and both of you are frustrated and tired‭??  ‬No more‭!!
Go to either of these sites and type or paste in your long URL one time.‭  ‬A cute,‭ ‬short,‭ ‬tiny little address will be created that you can give your students and they will be rocking along on that website in no time‭!
http://bit.ly/
http://tiny.cc/

I hope you have fun with this – I did!

 

 

Our Moon

blood surges through
veins like ocean tides
we ride it out slow
ebb and flow through
nature’s valves the
beating of earth
that salves pain
rhythm of rain
the perigee draws
moon to us
and us to moon
eyes ablaze and heads
upturned we burn to howl
the night and with the dark
pull clouds away as
curtains misted
running higher
ever higher to the
highest places open
spaces throats swell we tell
all the night is ours is moon
is soon to turn away
the earth we live on
planet spins on orbit
comes round covers
ground that glows
light shows ripples on the lake
branches reach to take
the moon in arms of bark
and leaves we grieve
she fades with dawn
the magic gone as sunrise
overpowers but for hours
she is soft and bright
our light our moon

Image Credit – my beautiful daughter Jessica Martin

Fiction, Poetry or Both

I love to write…I love it more than anything else I do. It is cathartic, surprising, challenging, and deeply personal. It is also frustrating, scary, humbling, and a journey. I like to write fiction AND poetry but I can’t seem to do both at the same time. I don’t shift gears easily.

I wonder if anyone else writes both and experiences the same problem or if it is just the way my brain works. I have a story rolling around in my head right now and it seems to block the poetry side of my thoughts. If I am on a roll with poetry, I can’t seem to switch to fiction.

Can I do both?

I feel like I should have started years ago and now I am running to catch up. Is that part of the problem? I seem to run forward and then crawl backwards to read and take notes and figure out what I need to know to keep moving forward. I think I have a talent for it. I know there is so much I need to learn. I’ve jumped ahead and there is a lot of bad writing to do with the goal of becoming better.

Maybe I just need to slow down and relax a bit…slow down and take more time with each piece. I have been taking part in the local Poet’s Society and it is a whole new high, to get an immediate reaction to what I have written. It motivates me to write more and better. I’m still stuck…but I know it is temporary.

We Wait for Joy

Oh God ! You are a bird of the sky
and I am chained to earth
by the gravity of my soul.
I can barely gaze on the high
places where you have left
your footprints in the dew.
I feel you in the warm breeze
that moves across the grasses
where I walk in the morning,
though I would run like a child
to catch you; my steps are small
and the dandelions catch my eye.
I lie in the meadow and catch
your smile in clouds piled on
clouds, banked and traversing
heavens that make me wonder;
how did you think of blue?
You sparkle in the evening stars
as though the planets were
not enough. You scattered
gems like grains of sand to you,
and dressed the sky in your
finery.  A curtain drawn
across the heat of the sun you
give us rest and we wait for
you, for morning, for an end
to mourning
For flight.
For joy.

Photo Credit: This photo was taken by Timmie D. McEachern of Minden, Louisiana. He and my husband went to school together and recently reconnected through Facebook.  Timmie takes wonderful photos of local wildlife hopefully, with his permission, more will find their way to this blog.

see more pics here

Closer Than You Think

earth is just a place
it cannot hold or mold
people sold the green and
bought the dream that
screams just run and run
and never stop you drop
the cleaning off and drive
through food is always fine
no time to craft a meal or
settle for a moment with
familial ties the lies we tell
so what so fine so why so how
the sacred cow of things we reap
for lack of sleep is not for real
we sleep all day and move as though
we are awake but take
a look around the ground is
rushing at us faster than
the sound of prayers can
catch us dues are owed
but down the road so what
me worry too much hurry
I would like to leave not die
but go away a far off place
with blue and green and peace
a pace that matches me
no slavery to clocks and rocks
that fill our pockets list
the crimes set in the dockets
judge the weak and weary
mothers teary I am leery of
the quicker fixes find a cliff
and spread our wings
no bag of tricks is
going to fix this broken toys
where is the joy that we
were promised by the law
no not the joy just the pursuit
but who is chasing who the cliff
is coming end is drumming
beating out a tempo we can
never dance to take
a chance to care to cry to
write it down so someone
somewhere some how
will now understand that
this is not what I signed up
for ever mindful of my own part
still I find it breaks heart
circled round and round
I chase the thoughts down
alleys filled with saddened faces
all in races to the edge
not knowing that it’s all
there is

Knives of Silver 2

Three Word Wednesday prompts: mention, affinity, fidget

a little back story…

“Grandma, why are we here?”

“Hush child.  Wait and watch.”

Libbie fidgeted.  She was cold and sleepy.  Her coat was scratchy and she wanted to be home in her pajamas and bunny slippers  If mama was home she would make her some hot chocolate.  But Mama had to work. She wondered why Grandma was bringing her with her tonight, a school night.  She knew Grandma always came to the graveyard after a funeral.  She had done it ever since Libbie could remember.  It made Mama mad and she couldn’t figure that out either.  She knew they both loved her but they fought a lot.

Grandma spoke, never taking her eyes off the grave before them. “Soon, Libbie.  Something will happen. You must keep watch.”

Libbie pulled on her grandmother’s sleeve. Will you tell me a story while you watch?

Grandma patted her leg and started to talk.  “You know the stories about Jesus?  From your picture bible?  There are more stories in the big bible.  You will learn them when you get older.  The story I am going to tell you is about the night that Judas turned Jesus in to the authorities. My grandmother told me this story when I was about your age”

“Did your grandmother take you to graveyards? Why did Judas turn Jesus in, Grandma?”

“You ask a lot of questions Libbie Bee.  Yes, my grandmother took me with her, just like her grandmother before her. We have always done this.  Now let me tell you the story. Judas was a bad man and certain things had to happen.  I want to tell you about an important part of the story.  Judas was paid for turning Jesus in.  Later, he felt bad about what he did.  He went back to the people who paid him, and tried to give the money back.  They wouldn’t take it and he threw the money away and went and killed himself.”

Libbie frowned. She didn’t like this story very much. “That’s a sad story Grandma.  I’m sure he was sorry.”

Grandma smiled,  “That may be so, but you will learn as you grow up, that there are some things that people do, that can’t be fixed. They can be sorry, but it doesn’t fix anything.”

Libbie frowned again.  She couldn’t understand what Grandma wanted her to see from this story.

Grandma patted her leg again.  “The thing you need to know is that the money was silver.”

Libbie thought about it for a minute.  “Like your special dust?”

Grandma nodded.  “Yes.  Just like my special dust.  This is a true story Libbie Bee,  Ever since that time, silver has been special. There are other stories, but they will wait for another night.  It’s almost time.”

“Time for what, Grandma?  What are we waiting for?”

Grandma stood and started walking toward the fresh grave, “Stay behind me Libbie.”

A mist had drifted in and Libbie shivered.  The mist seemed thickened like Mama’s gravy in front of the headstone and covered the drooping flowers. Libbie squinted her eyes in the darkness.  There was a low keening sound coming from the grave, and something was moving.  Libbie sat as still as she could, frightened now.  Grandma wasn’t afraid of anything!  She walked right up to the grave, holding her little bag of dust, muttering something quietly.  She reached in the bag and scattered it all over the misty covered grave and the mist turned to sparkling glitter that floated away on the little bit of visible of moonlight. She came back and sat down next to Libbie.

“Do you understand what happened here tonight?”

Libbie slowly nodded her head, her face reflected pale in the rising moon.  “I think so. The dead person wasn’t going to stay buried.  You fixed them.”

Grandma hugged her.  “I told your mama you had an affinity for this.  She didn’t want to listen.” Grandma smiled down at her.  “Don’t you worry though.  It will be alright.  You can come with me from now on and I will teach you.  I think it might be a good idea if we didn’t mention this to your mama.  I don’t mind getting in trouble, but I don’t want her to fuss at you.”

Libbie shook her head.  She didn’t like sneaking behind her mama’s back but she didn’t want more fighting between her and Grandma either. “Can we go home now?”

Grandma got up, dusting off the seat of her pants and reached a hand down to pull Libbie up.  “Let’s go home Libbie Bee.  It’s been a long night for you.”

Cleaned Up Family Conversation

Hubs: I hate this thing!
Me: What?
Hubs:  This stupid website.  If I have igoogle open as my home page and click on gmail (from inside igoogle) I can’t send anything!
Me: Just look at the top of the page and where it says gmail, click and open it in another tab.
Hubs: Why do I have to click something else?  It’s a pain in the butt. I’m calling google and gripe them out.
Me: I don’t think your finger will break out in a sweat if you click an extra button.
Daughter: Call the google!  “Operator?  Give me the google!” Wait. No, don’t.
Me: You’ll make the google mad!  That’s kind of like making a world power mad! (laughing)
Daughter: That’s kind of like pissing off 4chan.
Me: Who is 4chan?
Daughter: They are the internets.  They declared war on the Westboro Baptist Church for protesting funerals and stuff and shut down their website.
Me: Oh, so they use their powers for good?  We don’t want to piss them off then.
Hubs: I’m still calling google.

Didn’t We Shine

what it’s like to burn
to feel the years fall away
like skin shed raw flesh
blood pounding through veins
unclogged untwisted

limbs strong and heart
each part each chamber
beating to rhythm of flames
of a thousand candles
handle anything and everything
hands unmarked reaching
teaching all the rest

the roof is falling
we don’t care the night
is calling moonsongs
heart songs strings plucked
all night long

melting down the heat
sweat on upper lips
pooling in the creases wild
righteous indignation needing
action leads to fixing
needing touching everywhere
at once

trading down measured ways
music plays
a soft refrain the rain will
be our soundtrack as
curtains fall stars fall
in fading stages morning
dawns with cooling dew
breezes scatter ashes

just one breath and sleep
filled eyes closed to the sun
the fashions change
we maybe find a slower roast
makes sweeter saucy meat
we chewed it up it spit
us out
but once we were
sparklers spinning in the dark
fireworks and fireflies
are only beautiful when
they glow and then the night
swallows light
and we are gone

but didn’t we shine

Friend to Poets

friend to poets
no small thing
words though random
come together
collective love of light
dance of letters
each step marked
by voices singing
spark of creator
from created
fingers might
bring all closer
to heaven’s heart
through art
encouraged
by a friend to poets