A Word in Your Ear gives us a weekly photo challenge, which I am coming to love. It really makes me look back through forgotten photographs and take a much needed stroll down memory lane. I have only one entry, but this has always been one of my favorite photos. I love taking pictures of the moon and this was one that turned out better than I expected.
A poem for Romantic Monday. Thank you again Edward Hotspur for encouraging us to channel the romantic in all of us.
Under a Blue Moon
I fit my frail hand into his as we gazed upon the moon,
the beauty of its reflection, comforting like a warm wind in June.
As the pale moon light enveloped us, we stood as one, unmoving,
engaging in a silent vow of love that would never need proving.
The stars returned our glances, embracing a life of their own,
smiling upon us as a distant loon lent music of eloquent tone.
A blend of harmonious voices, echoed the cry of the loon,
as we stood fixed, ever enchanted by the intensity of the moon.
The night air swirled around us, laughing as it tickled the leaves.
The song of the frogs was found in the night and carried upon the breeze.
The rippling of the playful waves as their longing to touch the shore,
gave voices to the rhythm of sounds, sharing a tranquil rapport.
The magical songs in the blue moon light quieted ever so slightly,
as the glow of the moon and the array of stars ceased to shine so brightly.
His grip on my hand remained tender and sweet as he turned to look in my eyes.
A night of feelings shared by lovers under a blue moon and starry skies.
Perhaps it was Sage Doyle’s latest post about Grimm and his night out on E, but something caused me to open the vault in my brain that stores the foolish behavior of my past. Things that should remain locked and guarded have bubbled to the surface and made me recall the few times I dabbled in some mild altering drugs. I am relatively inexperienced when it comes to drugs – I don’t even like taking over the counter meds if I can avoid it, but peer pressure is an overwhelming thing and I succumbed.
The first time I was relatively young and my friends thought it wise to do some hits of acid. Sure, I had smoked some weed once or twice, but I gave up on it fairly quickly. I don’t like the feeling of being high and not being able to control how quickly I get there, or get back. At least with wine, I have more control and can switch to water if I feel like I’m reaching the breaking point. But hey, acid makes sense, no? Abso-fucking-lutely not.
Real life quickly turned into That 70’s Show, but I was still in the now. It didn’t seem to affect me at all. I was almost disappointed until I realized how ridiculous everyone else looked. They behaved exactly like you would expect people on acid to behave. Hippy-speak was rampant and they all spent an obscene amount of time watching invisible things float through the air. Once the munchies kicked in, we all headed for the local burger joint and they filled their urges to eat their weight in french fries. It wasn’t until I saw the purple troll streak by the picnic tables that I realized I was high. I jumped up from the table and chased the little bastard for a good 5 minutes until I no longer had any oxygen in my lungs. I lay on the sidewalk and made snow angels. It was July.
I guess the acid trip had buried itself so far into the recesses of my mind that when the pressure was on to do magic mushrooms, I caved. Once again, I seemed to be unaffected by anything more than the rank smell of these hallucinogens, so we drank some wine while we prepared some cedar-plank salmon, green beans and rice for dinner. We had just plated dinner when the giggling started. I thought the beans were the funniest looking things I had ever seen and once the laughter started, it didn’t stop. The three of us were perched around the dining room table and none of us ate a bite. I thought the salmon was trying to swim off my plate, so I built a barricade with the green beans to contain the fish and the rice was used like mortar to secure the walls. I finally had to step away from my friends. My ribs felt like each one of them had broken simultaneously from laughing so hard and being around them was not helping.
I took my wine out to my gazebo and lay on the wicker love seat, on my back and staring up at the tree that hung precariously above. It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the early evening and when I finally focused, I saw him. I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn’t seeing things (of course I was, I was really freakin’ high) but he remained motionless – in my tree – it was Jim Morrison. Now, for a guy that has been reportedly dead since 1971, he looked pretty good. We chatted for about half an hour – Jim is very articulate and extremely witty for a dead guy. And then he left me alone to pass out in my gazebo and sleep it off.
I have since learned to say a very emphatic NO when I am asked if I would like to partake in any sort of drug, besides wine. I think we can all agree that is best. Even Jim would agree.
I finally was able to transfer my pictures from my old laptop to the new one and found some more shots that I love.
A gorgeous sunset.
Fire in the sky.
Another great sunset.
I just love the way one pink cloud stood out in the sky.
Today’s Daily Prompt is – Tell us about a teacher who had a real impact on your life, either for the better or the worse. How is your life different today because of him or her?
There are always teacher’s that will stand out in my mind for various reasons. My Grade 9 Geography teacher spoke in such a monotone voice, I almost failed the class because I could not train my mind to pay attention. But the one teacher that will always stand out as the person who helped to create the person I am today is my Grade 6 teacher, Mr. Stimson. He truly loved his students and it showed in his teaching. His lessons were not all taught in the classroom and did not entirely come from a syllabus.
We learned to be respectful, we learned how to survive outdoors during his Wednesday cookouts and we learned how to be decent human beings. We learned that learning was fun. His class was our first real introduction to creative writing and I never looked back. Several years ago, after a very lengthy teaching career, he retired. I know many people of all ages who had the pleasure of being in his class and every single one of them refer to him as their favorite teacher. Upon his retirement, I wrote this poem for him. Thanks Mr. S!!
Words of Inspiration
He stood at the front of the classroom, a smile upon his lips,
A comical expression on his merry face, hands upon his hips.
He led us through his rhyming lesson, many not paying attention,
But something he said piqued my interest and I delved into a creation.
A whirlwind of thoughts flew through my mind, eager to be set free.
Nobody knew before this moment, that there lurked a poet in me.
Words and phrases I’d never known, spoke music in my ear,
Expressing my feelings in a rhyming prose, and this I did not fear.
He encouraged us to be individuals, to learn, to absorb, to think,
And when we achieved these remarkable heights, he’d always be “tickled pink”.
He is the epitome of teachers, a leader to some and a friend in many ways,
And for his attention and encouragement, I wish to give him praise.
His words of inspiration, helped me to reach inside my heart,
To find out what I hold inside, that tells me and others apart.
I have a special gift, a creative flair, that is very much my own,
But without his help, his caring words, it’s something I’d never have known.
A Word in Your Ear has a weekly photo challenge which I just learned about – this week’s word was cloud. I love photographing clouds and thought I would participate.
These are a few of my favorites.
The last one I love because it looks like I live in the mountains – far from it, but at least I can pretend every now and then.
polysyllabic profundities 