I tripped and fell upon her scaled shell,
Her feet nowhere to be seen.
She looked at me, somewhat disparagingly
asking me why I’m so mean.
She took my hand and dragged me from land.
Your mermaid is not what she seemed.
~~
Written for the Gargleblaster challenge #168.
Last night was my nephew’s graduation from Grade 8. Like every other family, we collected en masse in the auditorium and slowly felt the oxygen leaving the room as the number of attendees multiplied exponentially. The ceremonies were late in getting started and after the first tapping of a finger on the microphone the noise of the audience was dulled and the festivities began.
The first thing that struck me about the celebration was the overwhelming difference from my grade 8 graduation to last night. The girls looked like they were dressed for the red carpet and the boys were dressed to the nines. Back in 19(illegible numbers) at my grade 8 grad, I recall wearing something that could have passed as a hand-me-down for Holly Hobby, minus the apron, and the boys wore jeans, running shoes, short-sleeved white dress shirts and clip-on ties.
The program for the evening kept to the letter of the printed description, minus the timing. As speech tumbled into speech, I made the mistake of leaning over to my brother and whispering something about the extended ceremony and the fact that the grad class may miss their boat cruise after the graduation. It was at that precise moment that my brother chose to whisper a response that not only shocked me, but made me start to giggle. Now, when you are in the middle of an important rite of passage for a 14-year-old, giggling during the ceremony is frowned upon.
I did my utmost to stifle the laughter but that only made it worse and a small snort escaped. This sent my brother into fits of silent, but convulsive laughter as well and we slowly lost control. Tears streamed down our faces as we sought some sort of relief from our fits of hysterics but, every time we looked at each other, the inaudible giggles were compounded by more tears and several sideways glances from those sitting around us, including my sister-in-law.
My younger nephew, who was sitting beside me, leaned over to quietly ask what was so funny. I could only respond with a wave of my hand and more fits of silent laughter while trying to catch my breath. Thankfully a somber moment in the ceremony grabbed our attention the restrained giggling came to an end. I wiped the moisture from my cheeks and eyes and avoided looking in my brother’s general direction for the duration of the grad ceremony.
My nephew graduated with Honors and his class quickly exited the hallowed halls of their alma mater to board the steamship that was waiting for their arrival. Like ants leaving a picnic, the cars sequentially left the parking lot and the evening came to an end. I got in my car, a few chuckles escaping as I recalled the fun I had with my big brother, and heard the distinctly familiar ring of my cell phone.
My first words were, “I’m still laughing”, and I could hear that familiar sound on the other end of the phone. We laughed again for another five minutes and I had to pull the car over because I couldn’t see well enough to drive! That is certainly one graduation I will never forget – and when my younger nephew goes through the same ceremony, I’ll make sure my brother and I are not sitting beside each other!
I haven’t been writing much lately. Whether that is a matter of dried wells of creativity or life getting in the way, I have been denying the reality when it comes to my lack of imagination.
I wish, with every fiber of my being, that I could plunge back into that benevolent ocean of words and ideas and feel buoyant in those familiar waters. I wish I could ride on the waves of imagery and fantasy and surf on the crest of that elusive swell of inspiration. But lately the words evade me. I am a helpless surfer sitting in the middle of a tranquil body of water with no tides to move my motionless board.
I need a storm in my brain to strike and gain some momentum. I need the winds to tickle the chimes in my stagnant imagination and create a funnel cloud that gathers stories in its fury-filled path. I need that still ocean to become animated and my lifeless board to carve its way through a sea of new tales.
Or maybe, I just need to write.
I miss reading blogs. I miss catching up with the friends I have come to know in this little slice of creative heaven. And I miss having all of my writing cylinders firing at the same time. If my life had a movie title it would be “Life Interrupted”.
The summer hospitality chaos begins a week tomorrow but with that chaos comes a reasonably regular schedule and a chance to corral the myriad of thoughts in my head and the opportunity to pin them down (I hope).
May the writing Gods nod in my direction and may my creative world ease back into its natural orbit in the WordPress galaxy!
It begins as a slow, muted staccato beat.
The intense reverberation increases when I am in his presence.
The rhythmic tempo pumps,
and lures me into its passionate song.
The hammering echoes off my rib cage,
playing my feelings like a xylophone.
~~
This picture is my dad and I in 1970. Seemingly, I was as stubborn then as I am now! We were very similar creatures, my dad and I. Although we would have some “heated discussions” during our ever evolving relationship, there was always love at the core of our bond.
My dad passed away in March of 2006 and I miss him every day. I miss his silly sense of humor, I miss his charisma, his smile, and I miss knowing that he would be right there if I needed him. This is a poem I wrote a few months after he passed. He was a Councillor for our township and he was honored with a plaque that was place on a large rock in the local park and the planting of a tree. Happy Father’s Day, dad. We miss you. xoxo 🙂
~~
As Seasons Change
We give these gifts of nature in your name,
To forever keep you near.
To take root in a place you kept close to your heart,
And represent the things you hold dear.
Your rock will remind us to always be strong,
And to remain solid in the lives we love.
And follow in the examples you gave us in life,
As you look on us from above.
Your tree will remind us to accept the changes,
Of seasons that come and go.
As the tree becomes bare at times in our life,
New leaves will blossom in time to show.
That nature is beautiful and life has a season,
but all things do come to an end.
And with each change and leaf that is lost,
Family and friendships help mend.
Branches sway in the winds of time,
And your whispers will be heard in the breeze.
Your memory lives on in the nature around us,
The air, the rocks, the trees.
Today is my first day off in twelve days. I had envisioned being horizontal on my couch for a large portion of the day but an important task that I have continually buried in my brain has burst to the frontal lobe and changed my plans for the day.
Everyone collects things as they go through life. Eventually you begin to share your life and you welcome another person’s things into your collection. But sometimes those unions fail, for whatever reason, and after the division of that union some things get left behind. Today is the day I begin the process of no longer possessing those things.
My entrance way will no longer be a storage locker for junk. My plastic shed will no longer hide the numerous boxes that have since become apartments for families of rodents. It’s time to claim my space and make it mine again.
The bug jacket is ready and the 14 yard waste bin is in my driveway waiting anxiously to be filled and, although the mosquitoes may carry me away before I’m finished, I’m really looking forward to this cleanse!!
It feels like I’ve spent my life on the beach,
one tiny grain of sand among millions,
a nameless, faceless granule of existence.
The force of the water beckons and I sit motionless,
idly waiting for the tide to take me,
wanting to feel that rush of adrenaline,
but I never take that step closer to the shoreline.
I can’t keep hiding in plain sight,
simply watching the sun set over the horizon of my opportunity.
I can’t keep waiting for that water to reach me.
The only obstacle holding me back from adventure,
my biggest stumbling block
is myself.
~~
Written for the 100-Word Song Challenge at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. Click here to check out the challenge and join in the fun!
She sits in her cage,
singing because she finds joy,
she finds happiness in her solitude.
There is peace in her time alone.
Alone will never mean lonely,
and song is her companion.
She sings the notes
as they fill her heart.
~~
Written for the Gargleblaster Challenge:
And so we turn to this week’s ultimate question. There are a million reasons a caged bird might sing, both literally and figuratively. Maya Angelou gave us one in her beloved poem. That leaves at least 999,999 for everyone else to explore. Tell us:
Why does the caged bird sing?
Give us your answer in 42 words, but be creative. Don’t go where we expect you to. Don’t write down the first thing that comes to mind. Think, craft, edit, and craft some more. Give us your very best.
polysyllabic profundities 