The suns in your eyes,
The stars in your teeth,
The flowers in my hair,
The petals on my cheek.
Your name in the sky,
My feet on the ground,
We’re a distance apart,
And you don’t hear the sound.
Baking
The black and white checkered floor of the kitchen was dusted with flour and smudged with bits of shortbread cookie dough that had flown from the hand-held mixer. The mixture got beneath Sophia’s bare left foot as she walked back-and-forth from the white marble counter to the kitchen table where her laptop displayed the recipe’s website. The sticky feeling from the creamed butter annoyed her.
A Woman’s Strength
What makes a woman strong?
Is it her ability to put up with horrible conditions or her ability to recognize she deserves better and to leave the horrible situation?
I would think it is that latter, but I often hear, “She’s so strong to stay with him.”
I guess I thought we got past that kind of thinking back in the 80s and 90s.
If you are stressed, why must I be stressed?
If you aren’t looking for a solution don’t talk to me.
If you just want to complain, do it with someone else.
Complaining gets you no where but worked up.
In school my professor brought up a topic called “The Culture of Busyness”. This refers to a culture where people complain about their stresses as if it were something to brag about. It is one thing to discuss your bad day, but it is another thing if every conversation you have is surrounded by negativity.
Smile, and think about the positive.
Torturous Line
“I just want your body.”
Leave my head, leave me to my sanity. Let my torture be stopped – images of lips on ears, of whispering words of desire and passion – my stomach is sick from the thought of my yearning. Makes me think how you aren’t worth my tears or my desire. But that doesn’t matter does it. You began this desire like a fire which you have now abandoned to go out of control with no means of being put out.
I’m beginning to hate this line. It is torturing me like a picture book where ever page has the same line with the same picture of his body, rippling with perfected muscles. Oh, and the tattoos! How their blank ink swells my heart.
This line must seem shallow, and to a point I guess it is. My desire has been whittled down because I can’t have more.
I Wear My Heart on My Tongue
One day as I sat on the GO bus on the way home, I felt inspired to write. A line I wrote that I simply adore was, “I wear my heart on my tongue.” Although I intend to use this line for the basis of a short-short story, I thought I would describe a visual that comes to mind.
Valentine’s Day Candy Heart
My tongue extends out of my open mouth to display the chemically induced pink of a candy heart. The candy has no smell and its texture is gritty against my taste buds. It does not dissolve since my tongue is exposed to the open air and dries from the tip up. Curling to hold the candy in place, my tongue touches the pointed end of the incorrectly named shape, that steals its name from a beating muscle of chambers. It is prominent and ever present, this point that is like the period of a sentence: if present, it is the end all, punctuating finality; if missing, your eyes are left searching of the missing link.
My tongue has begun to dry out from the tip up, as if the candy spread out a thin sheet. I retract it into the confines of my mouth carrying the candy like a surfer on the waves. The chalky substance crinkling my face as I crush the heart between my teeth. This candy has no taste. As I ponder the possibility of how a candy (is it not mostly made of sugar?) can have no sweetness, I instruct myself to be wiser in the future: Don’t take the candy next time, it is always disappointing.
Some Things that Crossed My Mind
I feel lost in my writing like my words lead no where.
They are empty steps on paper stairs that are lined blue with red railings.
I go no where but up and up;
My hopes go with them.
I fall off the meaningless edge.
Think of me as a child:
adorable and unwise,
clumsy and awkward.
He is eye-candy that tastes bitter when you reach the center,
but you still want to taste him,
to go through the meal.
Honesty: A Cinquain Poem
So, I just felt like writing a poem.
Priceless,
Intangible,
Vibrant Blue Honesty.
The Element of Decency.
Just Breath.
My Own Opening for “The Office” (U.S.)
Does anyone else totally miss The Office?
I do! So when I had to be creative for a class presentation I decided I would write an episode. I seemed so funny to me…but, alas, some people choose mediocrity over creativity. So, I never got around to writing an entire episode, and it was never filmed. Anyway, the following is my cold opening for “The Office”.
Opening scene: Jim, Pam, Michael, and Dwight are all standing in the parking lot beside a forklift.
Jim: No, Michael, I’m not going to do it. It’s insane.
Michael: Oh, come on Jim, don’t be a spoil sport. Just start the forklift, jump out, and race it to the end of the parking lot. Dwight can do it. [Winks to Dwight, both men snicker.]
Jim: [Raises eye brows] Ah, no he can’t.
Michael: Fine. Dwight will do you big baby.
Dwight: Man versus machine. I’ve concurred you once, I shall triumph again.
Scene: Jim being filmed in the office.
Jim: Michael subscribes to a monthly newsletter with what he thinks is about funny facts, odd occurrences, and stupid people. In reality it is a health and safety newsletter about safety tips and real life stories.
Scene: Dwight gets into the forklift and starts the engine. Once the machine gets moving Dwight jumps out and begins to run along side the machine.
Jim’s Voice Over: Today Michael read about a forklift operator that fell out of his compartment and tried to out race the forklift. The man was killed.
Scene: The forklift begins to turn, coming toward Dwight. The forklift cuts Dwight’s path, barely missing him, and crashes into a parking lot lamp post, falling on its side.
Scene: Michael in his office, beings recorded.
Michael: Today we tested who was the superior being: man or machine. Machine won. Clearly they are the superior beings. Look at that [Michael turns his computer screen to the camera showing an animated dancing baby] I can’t do that.
