Tuesday, July 31, 2012

100 words or less fiction...

Our little local happenings and events paper, The Acorn, is running a writer's contest called In a Nutshell, for fiction 100 words or less.

For someone as wordy as me, 100 is really hard.  Here is what I came up with as an entry:

Abby awakens to darkness, a deafening roar and a jolt that throws her from the bed to the floor which rises, falls and shimmies beneath her.  As dry wall crumbles, girders groan and glass explodes, she thinks:  Shit, this is it, California tumbles into the sea.   Crawling blindly, she finds a pillow, pulls it over her neck and head, curls tight, and rolls with the seismic waves while the crunch of collapse thunders in her ears. 

Then, all is quiet.  Abby opens her eyes.  In her bed, Chris beside her, the apneic silence is punctuated by his monstrous snore.   

Monday, July 23, 2012


I share this for those of you who appreciate the form.  You may vaguely remember the defining features of three quatrains and one couplet of iambic pentameter, the ababcdcdefefgg rhyme scheme,  and the content.   I had to go to Sonnets for Dummies to remind me of what I learned in high school English many moons ago.  In any event, I did this as a writing exercise, and it is clearly tongue in cheek.

The name of the sonnet is, well, 'Sonnet' because it is about the experience of writing a sonnet.  But that is like naming your dog "Dog."

How about 'Meta Sonnet'?  'Sonnet to the Second Power'?   'Shall I Compare Thee to The Words of the Bard'?   I will consider any and all suggestions.


For practice, in iambic I will write;

although ‘tis foreign writing lines this long.

I do this, for I cannot sleep tonight.

These words perchance can soothe me, as a song.

Ah yes, the rhythm is a melody,

a cadence that caresses as it flows.

For in these lines there can be no spondee,

and my beloved trochees dare not show.

But music of the muse is often wild,

intense, unmetered; minor chords abound.

Then how to find true voice in form so mild,

and honor craft and meaning in the sound?

But hark!  The tune emerged here from my head,

so off I go to pentametric bed.

Monday, July 16, 2012

Good morning!

Nothing new, just an invitation to peruse these posts if you haven't done so, and I welcome any and all feedback.  

 I have not written anything new prose or poetry-wise, in about a month, although I am beginning to work on a sonnet as a writing exercise.  Mostly I have been working, and enjoying the summer when not working.

Warm wishes for a wonderful week!  (Alliteration nightmare...)

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Knowing That All Things Must End

A poem written last year...

Knowing That All Things Must End      

Throat laid bare with upturned chin,

vulnerable, exposed, breath in--

Dare to open once again.

Every joining, holding fast,

this present joy, too soon the past--

Cleaving to what cannot last.

Linger, savor, tarry, stay?

inexorable, the end of day--

Solstice moment, parting way.

Return to one must come in time;

unclasped, glance back, let loose of  “mine” --

Silence, and the taste of brine.

Monday, July 2, 2012

For Sophie...

It has been a little over a year since we had to put my Sophie down; she has been on my mind a bit lately.  And since I have no new inspiration at the moment, I am sharing something I wrote after she died.  

She was a German Shepherd, mixed with not-sure-what, maybe collie or Australian cattle dog, with a shepherd head and a mottled coat of many colors.  She was a bit of a doof, sweet as can be, but didn't much like other dogs except Freckles, maybe due to her days of being a stray.  But she was all love to me, Curtis and Chris.

I had never had to put a dog down before, and although there was nothing more we could do and she was non-responsive by the time we got her to the vet, it was still gut-wrenchingly painful.  But I was glad to be with her at the end, and writing this helped.

For Sophie

Just a note to say farewell my furry friend, and thank you for appearing in my life, loving me, and teaching me.

You taught me that worthwhile things are often inconvenient.  You taught me to give you frequent treats.  You taught me the value of staying close to those you love.   You taught me that big dogs are love bugs. You tried to teach me to stop leaving my gym bag around where you could get into it.  Finally, you are helping me learn, yet again in my life, how to let go.

Moments to remember:  You, roaming around behind the Edwards Theater, skinny and alone.  You, at the pound, days away from being put down, looking at me with those big brown eyes.   You, scaring the crap out of Freckles when we first brought you home.  You, the moment I knew we would keep you and love you, silently coming up to me when I was sitting at the computer, and laying your head on my knee.

You, with a huge tri-tip in your mouth that you stole off the kitchen counter.  You, chewing up yet another toilet paper roll or Kleenex or paper towel.  You, chasing Haley with her pony tail and thinking it was a rope bone.    You, accidently getting locked outside and waiting quietly by the front door.  You,  squeezing out from under the garage door the moment it was 10 inches off the ground.  You, lunging at that little dog in the truck that belonged to that very strange man.   You, using me as your personal scratching post.    

You, getting skinny from diabetes.  You, patiently enduring the twice daily insulin shots.  You, eyesight mostly gone, making the best of it.

You, your body pressed against mine, giving and receiving love.

Farewell my dear.