1 hour ago
Monday, March 5, 2012
Make Friday Write 'Monday?'
I should call this 'Mess Monday' for lots of reasons. First, my son has been here for seven days now and I'm exhausted! Yes, I'm a mess, tired and my hip is acting up. Thankfully he went off with one of my open mic friends, one his age to give me a break. We love our kids, want them around, but now I remember, two weeks at his house and I'm ready to go home. Yeah, I said it! I know how my dad felt when he said my middle name was 'Go!'
The other thing, secondly, he likes this girl he is off with and I'm not happy. I told him not to, and excuse my language, but don't poop where I eat! Goodness he just broke up with the one I liked, and this one is just like her. She is my friend. I don't get it? He says he regrets what he did in Korea now, and doesn't plan on doing it again. Uh huh.
Okay, well Jessie was a bit late, and even skipped two weeks of Make Friday Write, but I got something together last minute as well. I am giving you the first draft version, but have put a more organized version up at her site- Jessie Carty. Take a look at both and tell me what you think. She says something about it as well...not sure if it will go in that direction. I will rework it eventually, and lately I keep two drafts.
Oh BTW I got accepted into my seventh ezine so far in the new year! A new piece 'Picketing On A New Side Of Sorrow', and will share links at some point. Yay! I feel my writing has greatly improved. So has my article writing. I move forward...
Many writers don't like to share to much about what sparked the idea for a piece, but this one began as a few words in a song by my friend Lance, 'little bones'.
A Soul Lay Very Very Still
two worlds collide when
a vine overtakes the great oak out front
while the children roam the yard
a mother begins to clip and prune
across the stream laying in a grave
thrown off to the side without reverence
possibly tossed in a rush
small legs might have reached heights
walked through this field as if royalty
won races of great importance
but too weak to crawl to safety
children play devil’s advocate
making faces only a mother could love
even in the little mistakes
we can always find wisdom
build big fires outside or in
ashes and remains will nourish
and strengthen forest to come
peaches lay about the ground
its tree is stripped bare
small bites are revealed in the flesh
of deaths needs
left to feed imaginations hunger
sweetens a grandmothers bitterness
shallow graves house the nameless
haunt the night
little bones left to the cold
and very very still
(photo above- my friend, a singer/songwriter, and his clever album cover)