Words From A Good Mouth

I agree with this and hope many men and women will read it. Please read and pass it along!


Women Are Worthless

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Tiny Things

My mom adopted a new itty kitty. My sister and I call her Meow. Some of the things she does that seem to be her favorite so far are meow, sleep by day and scurry by night, nuzzle specifically your nose, try to eat whatever you're eating, and just lounge anywhere that involves human body contact.

Last night I slept on my mom's couch --had a late night and didn't want to drive home-- and Meow was playing in the Great Room all night. She diligently checked in with me throughout the night, though, sliding whiskers and fur thoughtfully across my face; pouncing across the length of my body as though seeing in how few landings she could do it; jumping from the floor to my head to whack me once on the forehead; and finally, when it was time for me to wake and be a living thing, she cuddle onto my neck and began her rock-tumbling purr.

I amused her for a while but soon moved her to where she could be comfortable while I could again take command of my head. There was a lot on my mind and it weighed down my desire to rise.

Curiosity that cannot absorb factual information can quickly turn to confusion, much like lungs short on air might turn one blue in the face. Unless relief is received one might faint from doubt and unhappiness. I was experiencing a similar steady stream of feeling and the flood soon rose to my eyes. The tear ducts were soon overwhelmed and the morning sun reflected in the dew gathering on my cheeks.

This shimmer is probably why she even noticed the salty gem slowly tracing from eye to chin. It was most likely the first tear she had ever seen. As I watched her wide, sea-foam green eyes dare the tiny sparkle to move again so she could leap and strike, I marveled that such a tiny creature even noticed it. She didn't have even the slightest recognition of what it was, even less what it could mean, and yet she watched it carefully, curiously.

Not many things that are smaller than a tear can contain so much within themselves. Meow didn't know, she won't ever know, she won't care, she won't remember, but somehow I was glad those tears were witnessed --intently recognized-- without my needing to explain or discuss feeling with a member of my own species.

I wiped those tiny tears away and the tiny kitten closed her eyes. The tiny spot in the universe continued quietly.

New Life

Do you think it would be easier or harder to raise a child...if you were dead? :) This short story is a dialogue of new parents. Only 1436 words. Should you enjoy it, let me know. Cheers

August Short

I've had this idea for a while. I finally spit a version out. I like this pretty well, but it is quite rough... Words 1232; same rhyming/rhythm pattern of the original nursery rhyme gives it a strange flow, but oh well. It was challenging enough just to find the syllables and rhymes to make it all..make sense. cheers

Free

I have written a poem
Whose words capture
The deepest feelings.

Now I will throw it away

Forgiveness

For you to assume that I cannot change
Is to reject anything new that you learn.
Though some things about me were prearranged
I have made changes to correct and to turn
And become the woman I was created to be,
And hope always to embrace possibility.
No power on earth can stunt my efforts divine;
I leave to our God to be your judge and mine.

Seeking anOther Somebody

I would gather the slivers like driftwood,
watch the flames carry the signal,
lie down on the sands where the waves reached just to my feet,
and wait.

July short

Yes, it counts that I'm writing a long story in short parts.... here's part two of my fairytale twist about 6000 words. Holy cow, July's over.

Broken and Contrite

An eternal core
of priceless worth
holds the soul
centered in faith,
encompassed by
endless love.

On the surface
the heart beats
ocean deep, shores above
richly layered pieces
on a perpetual course

Forming the mountains
to surmount
Carving the valleys
of survival
Framing the very discourse
of discovery
Causing foundations
to tremble, confound.

But if so constant,
contrite and open
allowing love to flow,
creating hope,
absorbing light,
budding visions grow,

Then let it ever break
tremble, quake;
for its enduring motion-
negative pull
positive draw
turning and rotation-
produces life
and learning,

Tectonic heart
keep yearning.

Update

(for whatever it's worth. I'm not being deeply inspired lately for any poetry, so I'll just talk about me.)

Okay, now for the Seagull story. I just learned that gulls can live up to 49 years. Dang. Anyway, I'm not sure if this one lived or not. Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start...

Southbound on the Seward highway is 55 outside of Anchorage. I was deadheading (traveling without passengers) so I set the cruise control (so I don't accidentally speed) and kicked back to watch the beauty mosey by. My Tour Director was riding with me, also enjoying the scenery and poking fun at me in any way he could. We were having some great laughs as we passed Potter Marsh, a bird sanctuary for...birds. There was a pack of seagulls flying like teenagers leaving a high school football field after their team just won. I could just hear the bird chatter, "Dude!" "Dude, sweet!!!" "Dude watch this!" et cetera et cetera when two of them suddenly veered sharply toward my coach. I knew before it happened that it would happen. No suspense, just pending dread, the brutal, slow motion countdown.

I also just learned that seagulls usually fly in packs like this. They strategize. They'll even wait for whales to surface and then dive and peck out pieces of flesh. They're conniving and greedy, unafraid...and sometimes stupid.

I'm trying to ease your pain by diminishing your sympathies.

Its buddy veered up but it just opened its mouth and 'spread eagle' belly flopped the front of my coach (below the windshield and above the license plate). It hit me! I looked later and saw white, salty outline of smoosh and some bird poo or barf or maybe a little of everything on the front of my coach. Not surprisingly, no damage.

The thwack was disturbing enough, but , curse my dutiful reflexes, my eyes pointed to my mirrors. On the side of the road a white bird flopped like a fish out of water, trying to...well, fly I suppose. It had no idea what hit it, I'm sure of that, only that it knew it was breathless and not flying, and that pain inside? Shattered ribs? (Those spindly bones you peck clean from dead animals.) The rear view also provided proof of this broodship: the other seagulls were diving and hovering and screaming above its shocked and quaking body. "Dude!" "Dude..." "Dude man, are you okay?"

I felt so bad. I still sorta do. I wish I hadn't looked back. Or forward, when it hit, for that matter. Uhhheh. A coworker told me she saw the broodship display as well as she drove by moments later. Maybe it lived and has sweet bragging scars. Maybe its "friends" "took care" of it.

Teenagers could learn a lot from birds.

On a happier note


Today is Sunday. I packed a skirt this week on tour and stashed the faith that I'd actually get to use it. Sarah Dawn and I waited for a shuttle that didn't come and then decided we'd hitch hike as much as we could from Denali to Healey, AK. We walked, her in saucy high heels and a sleek black dress. (She looked hot, not gonna lie) and me in white flats, white legs and a white skirt for about half a mile before Jim picked us up. He took us about 8 miles to where his kayaks were chillin and then we walked to the nearby Princess wilderness lodge and talked to them about a shuttle. This lovely lady called a guy named Kit. Kit drove us in a motor coach right to church, another 11 miles north. Sweet. We were at sacrament meeting precisely on time (which is to say ten till 7pm, the meeting started a few minutes later). Sarah Dawn also got us a ride home. Something about a roommate's friend. Bryson. He drove us all the way back to our McKinley lodge. Sweet again! I like that I hitchhiked half way to church. :)

This lady that sits in the front seat for my present tour told me I needed to spot a moose for her. I saw three moose...two on the way to church and one as I drove back from delivering a needed bag from the belly of my motor coach to the top of the mountain at the Grande Denali Lodge. That's always how it is. The moose are always in the place where you're not looking for them. It's almost like they know how cool they are and they hide whenever more than ten people are rolling along in great big animal smashing mobiles.

Think about it, though. People come from everywhere just too see moose. People love them so much they'll even settle for moose poo--purchasing it (from whom? Some shmuck that goes out and scoops it up and puts it in a bag with a price tag on it)--as a last resort. Or even as a fond souvenir? It comes in jewelry form, too. Really. Moose get no royalties. They get hit when they cross the freeway instead. And they get even. More people die by moose than by bear. Believe it. If you're out walking or riding a bike and you see a moose, you stop and take pictures and think you're so cool. If you see a bear you get away (unless you're stupid). That's what most people do. They think moose are cute and charming and stuff. They let down their guard. They don't know how to act. Here's how. Basically, the moose just wants you out of its space, so get out of it. Run away, jagged-like. Swift side to side movements frustrate the moose and it gives up. Bears instinctively chase after what's running, so instead, stand your ground and make noise. Bears kinda freak when they see an animal upright on two legs making strange noises and waving their arms. If it does attack, play dead, protect your vitals. If it goes for the kill, fight back. If you don't you'll surely die. Might as well try not to.

I hope I never have to outsmart the big animals around here.

So anyway...that's good for now. I have a tummy ache. buh bye.