Category Archives: words

Last Trifecta

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A chorus of silent voices,

joining in harmony around the globe.

Embracing passion,

creating relationships,

making friends.

We placed a bet on the Trifecta,

wagered everything we had.

We all came in first.

trifecta

~~

(image credit: trifectawritingchallenge.com)

Written for the last ever Trifecta challenge – 33 words of our own choosing.  It saddens me that the doors to the Trifecta lounge will be closing but I am thankful for the friends I have made in that lounge.  Thank you to the creators of Trifecta for giving us the opportunity to hone our skills and choose our words wisely.  And thank you for creating a community that will live on in our newly developed friendships.

Is there a right way to write?

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When I began to really delve into writing poetry and short stories I was more comfortable writing in long hand.  It freed my mind to truly compose the ideas, the rhymes and the drama, and felt much more like a natural flow from brain to hand to ink to paper.  The archaic version of computers we had at that point did not lend much ease in the writing experience since it was a behemoth that was no more moveable than my car.

In the bygone days of my youth (I make myself sound 100 years old), when I began to read voraciously, I would always have a pen and paper handy to write down any words I found challenging and words that I was excited to use in my writing.  It went on for pages.  I still have those pages and, although they are now collecting dust in a storage bin, they still remind me of my hunger for words.  My hunger now is much more easily satiated.  With the ease of Google, on-line dictionaries and thesauruses I no longer have to put the word to paper and look it up in a bound, hard-cover dictionary.  I even have a dictionary in my Kindle should the need arise to define a foreign word.

Nowadays, I’m sure a chimpanzee would have much more success with that foreign writing object we call a pen.  I used to have beautiful handwriting and now the things that come out of the pen slightly resemble a modified version of shorthand.  (It would be far more beneficial for me if it were shorthand since I currently have no clue what I’ve written!)

shorthand

(photo courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org)

With the ease of the digital age I use a voice recorder if I am overcome with inspiration.  Random thoughts that used to be scribbled on scraps of paper are now stored in my phone for easy access.  My calendar is on my iPhone and so is my shopping list.  Even with my creative stream, that long steady flow of blue ink has been replaced by the gentle tapping of the keyboard on my laptop.  I have finally been able to train my mind to tune out the incessant clicking and it no longer derails my train of thought.

What do you do?  Do you still give the ink a chance or are you a slave to your keyboard?

Friends around the globe

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We, as writers, spend countless minutes and hours at our keyboards, grinding stories until they are made into the finest powder we can create, to put stories to a page that we can only hope many eyes will see.  We toil with adjectives and adverbs, we argue with grammar and punctuation and we stress ourselves with synonyms.  We fret over story lines and we mold characters into strange and exciting people.

Each time that star or conversation bubble appears we anxiously look to see who has taken the time to like our work and comment on the words we have strung together.  With those comments we create relationships that span cities, countries, even continents and forge a bond that may always remain digital.  We share in each others joys and triumphs and we offer words of encouragement through the tough times.  We become friends.

I have come to realize the irrefutable truth in this phenomenon over the last week.  So many of you have reached out to offer condolences and words of sympathy and it has meant more to me than my words can express.  I truly appreciate the depth of the relationships we have created in this literary and photographic world and thank you for each virtual hug, each word of encouragement and each expression of love.  You are a tremendously special group of friends and I thank you.

You better run – 100 word song

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You came unannounced.  You stealthily crept into my head and strategically built your wall in the darkest confines where I couldn’t see you.  Like a thief, you stole my ideas.  You banished any character from entering my thought process and you murdered my will to write.

But I’m on to you.  I’ve seen the ugliness in your soul.  Your darkness is no match for the light that words provide.  My will to create is much stronger than your effort to suppress my creativity.

I enter each day more prepared than the next.  If I see you again, you better run.

~~

Written for the 100-Word-Song challenge at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.   This week’s song – You Better Run by Pat Benatar.

Did you hear what I hear?

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So, the beginning of the subject line is a slight deviation from a Christmas song…but it is appropriate on more than one level.  For those of you who love Romantic Mondays as much as I do, I am channeling my inner high school geek and perpetuating a rumor that has piqued my curiosity.

Romantic Monday will breathe life once again this coming Monday, December 16th, or so I have heard and am hoping.  For those of you acquainted with this special day, I hope the holiday romantic in you will join me in making sure this rumor comes to life!  Be sure to stalk Edward Hotspur and let’s make this rumor a reality.

Merry Romancemas!!

Unspoken words

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The way your eyes look into mine is unfair.

You hold me in your gaze.

You see me.  You see into me.

Your eyes travel the contour of my face and rest on my smile.

Your eyes know every wrinkle around my eyes.

Your eyes know the emotion in every facial expression I have.

Your eyes know me.

But it isn’t fair.

Your eyes will never be able to look outward with mine,

they will never be able to look towards a future together.

lovers-embrace

For as much as we are drawn together,

the vision in your reality keeps us apart.

But your eyes continue to speak to me,

volumes of implied feelings are expressed with each blink.

My eyes read those thoughts and answer back.

The emotion in our unspoken words is palpable.

Hold me in your gaze for a while longer.

Hold me there forever.

~~

(image credit: michellealva.com)

A little witty banter

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Small talk is an art form.  It is the informal banter that covers no functional topics of conversation yet seems to fill the void of silence. People generally find dead air uncomfortable and prolonged periods of silence can be unbearable.  Regardless of whether or not we know the person, something compels us to bring up some inane conversation and we generally state some very obvious rhetoric to pass the time.

Small talk is a social skill that some have honed over the years and others struggle with it on a daily basis.  Perfect strangers may feel comfortable enough to talk about things on a more personal level but the bulk of small talk is made up of conversations about things as uninteresting as the weather.  Who knew we all had such an obsession with meteorology?

Depending on where you are when engaging in small talk you can certainly make it more interesting than the state of the atmospheric pressure and relative humidity.  It doesn’t have to become completely personal but you can lift the mood of someone’s day by having an intriguing conversation about something they weren’t planning to discuss with a stranger.

Make the first move and initiate some witty and enlightening repartee that will leave both of you in higher spirits.  Compliments are always welcome and interjecting some kind words into your small talk will go a long way.

Don’t let your cartoon balloon of small talk remain empty.  Fill it with something that will make people think and will allow them to leave your presence with a smile on their face.  Be original and be appealing but most of all keep it simple and honest.  You never know what new connections you could make by starting with an elementary bit of small talk.

My holiday spirit in two words

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Today’s world is a far cry from simple.  It is a labyrinth of cultures, race, skin color and vastly different systems of belief.  It is a melting pot of strong ideals and judgement and it is quickly becoming far less tolerant than it once was.

I happen to celebrate Christmas and in the process of that celebration I can be heard uttering two words that, although were once mainstream, are now, by some, thought to be completely offensive.  Merry Christmas.  Two words that contain the ideals of the child I once was and now hold dear the spirit of a celebration that I embrace.

I am not a vindictive person and, when I choose to utter those two words, I am not negating the fact that you may not celebrate this particular holiday.  I am choosing to share my love of the holiday season in my way.  I am attempting to insinuate my child-like joy into the moments of your day by choosing to wish you the best of the holiday season in a way that I learned through osmosis.  There used to be something exceptionally special about watching the joy spread by speaking those two words.  It was like watching a wave of true happiness spread from one person to the next.  Now, instead of riding that wave, it is more like treading lightly on the edge of the water ever mindful of sharp objects in the sand.

I have felt trapped at times, wondering if I should only articulate the two words that do not seem to easily offend, but “happy holidays” doesn’t encapsulate the true spirit I have at this time of the year.  Sure, it may be less offensive to some, but perhaps they don’t take the time to know the feeling behind the words.  By wishing you a Merry Christmas, I am merely saying that I want you to enjoy your way of celebrating as much as I enjoy mine and somehow inject some of my cheer into your day.

So let me throw caution to the wind and impart my holiday spirit to you on this Tuesday morning.  Merry Christmas to all and may the spirit of the holiday season, whatever your holiday may be, bring merriment to your smile and gladness to your heart.

(this is a blog post I wrote last year, but I felt it warranted being said again as we enter the festive season)

The real me

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If you want to know the real me, the true essence of my being, read my words.  I live in a world of people.  I engage with people every day of my life and I present a mere part of myself but, if you want to know me to the core of my vitality, read the words that I have written.  Those words are me.  Those idioms and poems somehow define me by using words I could never use on a daily basis.  Those phrases and ideas bring more of me to the surface than simply seeing me in three dimension.   Those words are my truth.

I connect with people emotionally and physically but, on a much deeper level, I spiritually connect with words.  Their subtle nuances paralyze me.  Their deep meanings leave scars that carve a map of my journey.  Their richness fills me and leaves me satiated.  I could be poor in monetary means the rest of my days but I will be rich if I still have words.

I am a slave to my passion, a victim of the alphabet that forms phrases in my mind.  Words wake me from slumber and force themselves into my conscious thought.  They wrap around me, enlivening me with their embrace.  They saturate the white noise in my brain.

Words will always bring the real me to the surface.

Tomorrow’s Outlines

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This is my first poetry duet with Hastywords and hopefully not my last.  She is truly a talented writer and beautiful person.  I’m sure you’ve already clicked follow on her blog, but if you haven’t you are missing out!

~

I found myself wandering aimless

between several different worlds,

in and out like a homeless ghost

my mind splitting, fracturing

and my perspective splintering

Lost in a cavern of realities

whispers of promise echoing

taunting, just out of reach

unsure of which path to choose

I float in a sea of uncertainty

bleeding colors

The colors of my past are bleeding

hiding lessons learned in a foggy gray

feelings and emotions are muddled

until I feel I may drown, breathless

inside all my lost yesterdays

The canvas of my life stares blankly

looking back at me with ambivalence

urging me to lift my head

beckoning me to not just tread water

but to thrive and embrace what lies beyond

Before despair takes me asunder

I focus only on paths ahead, determined

blurry lines begin to sharpen, harden

into black and white, new outlines

new paths, waiting to be colored in

~

(image credit: Stina Persson)