Cooler.. But A Good Day!

" The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up."  - Mark Twain

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Project 365- A Photo a Day



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2011 November Pad Chapbook Challenge- Day 3

Besotted

It is sort of like fishing
you gather bait.. set the hook
Then you reel them in..
wait where did I leave my pole?

Pole cats.. Pole ax.. Pole vault too..
that was my second career choice
Ballet was my first.. but...
Daddy said I needed to be a writer.

Writers.. My brother Jimmy said..
were.. every single one.. a liar!
I was paid a few times for my lies..
and I am proud to have given it a shot..

A shot.. that's what I was about to do
get a shot.. That flue shot is a nasty thing..
but a tequila shot is another ballgame
Now.. Bar tender... where did I put the lime?

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
11-04-2011


Tuesday Try Outs - Write a poem of four quatrains that contains no adjectives, no adverbs, no similes, and the word “lime”... I am pretty sure that I didn't do this quiet right..  I have the four quatrains.. and the word Lime if that counts at all..?.. I did want to post though because I love the prompts offered here..

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365 Pictures Prompts at Creativity Portal

Photo by : Marie Claire Saint Maux

Lily's Friday Prediction- Passport / rent / interrupt

Beloved

Derek watched the beetle scuttle across the factory floor.. Desert sands had drifted through the busted walls filling much of the space.. Sarah had text-ed him earlier whining about the rent and how fat her passport picture made her look.. He had laughed at her promises to turn back time.. He didn't care if she got her girlish figure back or not .. He wasn't going home .. Smiling at the dainty tidbit spread before him.. He prayed that this time he wouldn't be interrupted.. Sliding two bullets into the revolver.. he shucked his fatigues.. and whispered "beloved"  

Written By: Patricia Sawyer

11-4-2011

Weekend Wordsmith- factory

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2011 November Pad Chapbook Challenge- Day 4

Into the Woods

pine scent tickles my nose

pressed into the straw

heart and soul crying

all along the hill top I  searched

for a place to hide and heal 

slipping and sliding I  landed here

no boxes littered this little bowl

I  hear the sliders squeal 

I  hear his angry shouts

face lowered to the earth

I give thanks for the treasure

I had overlooked so many times

in my haste to be king of the hill

As freight trains shake

our make believe mountain

I fall asleep in my safe haven..

Written By: Patricia Sawyer

11-04-2011

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Friday Fill Ins


And...here we go!

1. In November, I most look forward to _our birthdays.. Dave's and Mine__.

2. __It is cold out there for dog fetching__...phew!

3. It's right there, in the __way.. where you left it_.

4. __It's hard to find_ peace of mind.

5. Water _boils and bubbles__.

6. _What's good for the goose_ is what my grandmother used to say!

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to _working on some writing projects__, tomorrow my plans include _treasure hunting and photographs__ and Sunday, I want to _go to Church__!

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Thanks for stopping by.. I welcome comments and followers and really love to know who has visited me.. 

I hope you have a wonderful day!

Patsy

Happy Halloween..

" We suffer primarily not from our vices or our weaknesses, but from our illusions. We are haunted, not by reality, but by those images we have put in their place. " - Daniel J. Boorstin


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Project 365..  A Photo a Day!

Dave Sawyer- Tree Surgeon!

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Lily's Friday Prediction - girdle/ Spanish/ ruin

While The Bonfires Burn

Baby Pumpkins coo
ghost and goblins worry Mom
sunset rises slow

Photographs and boos
Operation Halloween
blackest ghouls rejoice

Over and over
vulnerable figments cry
ogres dance with bones

One eerie howling
echoes the blood inclined
Spanish ruins shudder

Scarlet girdle falls
frowns drip from ancestor's eyes
wall tapestries creak

Evil seeks a host
resting with the innocent
sweeping holy space

chocolate clown smile
vicious darkness swallows whole
Pandora cries out

the defiled feast
disguised behind empty eyes
nothing pure remains

A tassel of hay
gripped tight in her pale hand
soulless eyes staring

Daylight brings no joy
virtuous one befouled
with bonfires burning

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
10-31-2011

One Single Impression #192 -  sunset
Sunday Scribbling #291-operation
Haiku Heights #92- ghosts
Weekend Wordsmith #223- worry
3 Word Wednesday- Figment/ inclined/ vulnerable

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My Tricksters!

 Phoebe and Dani

 Grayson

Althea 

Dorie

 Emily, Kirstin'
and Luke

Caleb


















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I have always loved Halloween.. every person in my life.. who was younger than me..
and might have had the misfortune to be close to me at Halloween knows that I will dress
you as an old person.. a fat person.. a pirate.. or a clown.. or maybe even a wild combination of all of those things in a skinny minute and drag you out the door and then follow youfrom house to house until you have enough candy for both of us..  for years.. I love to decorate and have even been known to throw a wild Halloween party for both kids and adults..This year and for a few before.. I tried for a quiet night with just my very own tricksters..I love to see the kids come and love to make their photos.. I give each of them a load of candy as if they are going no where else and always have a little left over.. just in case a strange child shows up.. I thank you for stopping by tonight and for sharing the spooky night with me..  I can hear the coyotes howling across the fields and  have had a few shivers at the lonesome sound.. I welcome both comments and followers.. I hope you have a Boo-tiful Night.. Happy Halloween!
Patsy

Can We Ever Forget that Moment in Time..?

" We live in a world of guns, bombs and terror. To conquer hate seems a nigh-impossible task. "
       ~ Theodore Bikel

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Project 365 - a Photo Every Day...

Terror

A sudden call to duty

Towers of power fall

Victims and victors screaming

A nation stands appalled

Scratching at flea collars

Both wrist and ankles bound

Children used as sacrifice

Continues to astound

He hates the word deployment

He wants to hold his girl

The agony pours from his eyes

Behind the sandstorm swirl

Thinking of his Mama                                               

His heart begins to race                                                   Writers Weekend Retreat #36

How many years.. how many lives                                                                                              

Before he leaves this place?

Written By: Patricia Sawyer

9-9-2011

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Acrostics Only- Children's Corner-

Boogeyman


Be gone you
One eyed fiend !
Out scary shadow !
Goblins and witches
Evacuate ! No more
Yellow bellied bumps !
Mama ordered them
All be gone !
Now we sleep...

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
9-9-2011

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Thursday Tales   {photo by Starling Photography}

Duty Calls

 

Logan bowed his head as the tolling began.. The withered priest tugged the ropes.. ringing the mission bell over and over.. echoing despair across the valley.. They had found her along the tracks.. another soul devoured.. Records would show her to be the seventy seventh victim but he knew the number was much higher..

Sliding his treasure box back into the hearth's secret and replacing the bricks.. he picked up his badge and holstered his revolver.. He would have liked a nap.. but patting his belly.. he headed for the door.. Sometimes you had to make sacrifices when duty called..

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
9-9-2011


Lily's Friday Prediction- Valley-  Mission- Record

Weekend Wordsmith- Hearth

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Thanks for stopping by my world today.. I welcome both comments and followers..
Have a wonderful day!
Patsy

Ready For Autumn..

" By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer. " ~  Helen Hunt Jackson

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Up Date~ since no one commented or guessed on the "What is it"  shown below.. I will not be revealing what it is at this time.. I will leave it here in case a late visitor might want to guess. it really is an easy thing to guess.. I can't believe that some red neck country boy  didn't know in an instant what it was.. or maybe I haven't had a red neck visitor..?.. In any case I will be leaving it and if no one guesses I will eventually use it again.. Maybe some of you might want to take a second look now and see if you know what it is..  Have a great Night!...
Patsy
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Project 365- A photo a day

Haiku Heights

#65 Hypnotic-

Shipwreck


siren's saddest song
a hypnotic lullaby
gulls wade the tide pools

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
9-7-2011




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Weekend Wordsmith-

Rose (a nonet)

My sweetest Rose have you grown weary
It Always rains on your parade
Everything against you
Paper lace obsessions
Living on wishes
So long denied
Thorns bind your
Broken
Heart


Written By: Patricia Sawyer
9-7-2011

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What Is IT?

Dave and I came across this the other day and I wondered how many people might have seen this before and would recognise it.. Do you know what this strange item is? Dave and I thought we knew what it was and what it was for and how it worked.. we were wrong..But I am still willing to bet that at least one person out there might know what this picture is..  That person Might even be you.. so give it a try and comment with your guess.. You might be a winner if you are the first to answer correctly..

As always I will up-date tomorrow  with a photo of what this item really is..

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Thanks for stopping by my blog today.. I hope you enjoyed your stay.. I welcome both comments and followers.. have a wonderful day!
Patsy

Rain Rain I Know We Need You... But Did You Have to Wet My Stuff...

"When you have got an elephant by the hind leg, and he is trying to run away,
it's best to let him run."   ~ Abraham Lincoln

"Keep five yards from a carriage, ten yards from a horse, and a hundred yards from an elephant;
 but the distance one should keep from a wicked man cannot be measured."
~ Indian Proverb

"You pray for rain, you gotta deal with the mud too. That's a part of it."
 ~ Denzel Washington


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Project 365- Every day a Photo..

  

 Joy

delightful sprinkles
rain down on summer sidewalks
quenching our thirst for joy

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
6-28-2011



Haiku Heights #49- quench
Sensational Haiku Wednesday - Joy






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3 Word Wednesday - gag-maintain-omit

Weekend Wordsmith- Elephant

Sunday Scribblings- give

One Single Impression- seven sins

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Riding Pink Elephants

I thought I saw a pink one.
my head upon the bowl

a gag  a gaze a grunt or two
my belly how it rolled

I only though to omit
just one of seven sins

I was trying to remember which
when the room began to spin

a pretty pink pachyderm
my pride I must maintain

for every gift I give this night
is loss and never gain

a mouse of blue called me out
he told me I must stand

I hopped upon the pachyderm
and from the mouse we ran....

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
6-28-2011

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Thanks for stopping by my wet world today... I welcome both comments and followers..
I hope you have a wonderful day!
Patsy

Hello Monday! You Always Show Up On Time...

" The wisdom of the wise, and the experience of ages, may be preserved by quotation. "    
- Benjamin Disraeli

" There is only you and your camera. The limitations in your photography are in yourself,
for what we see is what we are. "
~  Ernst Haas

" It has never been my object to record my dreams, just the determination to realize them. "
~ Man Ray

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Project 365- a Photo Every Day.... I make so many photo's that I can only post my very.. very.. most favorite ones.. I am always tangled up about what day I am supposed to post on..  I am pretty sure it was Saturday so I am late again.. I do thank anyone who visits me from there and them from here..

My Mom and  My
Great Nephew.. I think he looks like her...
check out their cheeks...

family fun - playing "Strut Miss Lucy"...

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Magpie Tales- #69


The Next Step- ( a haibun)


next step altered
tiny shell missing fondly
tranquility reins

one misstep and I knew I'd be eating sandy spam on wheat and lemon cookies...
Lila was telling tales of rice plantations and slavery... pirates and skeletons all jumble together..
I was pondering wee spiraled cones..

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
6-13-2011


3 Word Wednesday- alter.. fond.. tranquil

Weekend Wordsmith- skeleton

Theme Thursday - 6/9/2011- spam

Haiku Heights #47 - slavery

One Single Impression #172- miss.. ( to long for)

Sunday Scribblings #271- The Next Step.....

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Oh what a long and busy day.. I had a house full of nearly teens.. three girls and one boy.. they all wanted to play Sims at once and we all know that won't work.. they played rock band once or twice but this one would all but squeal over the others choice of song.. finally I said .. "I have had enough...." .. well.. actually I didn't say that.. but  I said some other stuff.. and ordered them to the dining table to write me a story... they draw a scrap of paper with a prompt on it.. I have to have at least five sentences... and when everyone is through they stand one at the time and tell us their story..  nothing too hard.. but I do want an illustration of some kind.. ok so I'm mean..  we are learning reading and writing skills.. spelling and art... they also help cook.. and toss corn at critters....  play hide the penny... and swim..
I gotta tell you.. kids think deep.. they claim I am making them keep a journal cause I'm mean and making them learn all summer.. the truth is that I do hope they learn something this summer..  they are really talented and I want them to know that..  but every time they present their stories I learn from them.. and that is worth every second of getting up early and listening to ... "she looked at me... she touched my phone.... she texted about me to Em"... all day.. I also made and canned 4 quarts and 7 pints of salsa and 20 quarts of squash today...  time now to rest and cool off..   Thanks for stopping by to read a few of my words today.. I welcome both comments and followers... I hope you have a remarkable day..
Patsy

Wednesday and I Think It Will Be a Hot One!

"I think that no matter how old or infirm I may become, I will always plant a large garden in the spring. Who can resist the feelings of hope and joy that one gets from participating in nature's rebirth?"

  - Edward Giobbi

“If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?”

  - Kahlil Gibran

“Flowers leave some of their fragrance in the hand that bestows them”

 - Chinese Proverb

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Thursday Tales-

photo by - hidlight at DeviantArt

Acrostic Only- Acrostic Short Story-


Forgotten-
Fourteen years he had been gone.. the gossips had predicted his return a million times and in a million ways.. and now he stood at the top of the stairs and smoked.. dreading the creak of the rusty hinges and the jumble of plunder that waited behind the unlocked door..

Oddly enough he had returned hoping to be a welcome change in her life.. only to discover that she had forgotten all about him.. She had forgotten all about almost everything.. she had grinned at him from a puddle of tea that she had spilled and then decided to bathe in.. She had been sitting naked in the kitchen floor when he had arrived late last night.. " My Memory is rusty!" she had giggled.. " Who did you say you were?"

Reality was right now for her.. there was no yesterday in her mind.. No tomorrow or the next day either.. he had listened to her rambling on for hours last night.. she told him about her son who had gone to conquer the world.. she wondered where he was now and even though he told her again and again she didn't seem to hear that her lost boy had returned to the nest with a tangled body to match her tangled mind.. he hadn't wanted to come back here where nothing good had ever happened to him but he hadn't had much choice.. down to his last dollar and sick as a dog he had headed home at last..
Glory had never been his.. but he did enjoy the way she told his story.. she had told him of how many wonderful things he had accomplished in his life.. he sucked the dark smoke deep into his scarred lungs and wished even one of the grand things she dreamed up had been true.. and he was glad that she didn't know the truth about him.. It was almost better to have been forgotten..

Orange crayon hearts covered most of the door.. He wondered why the neighbors had never called the authorities to come and check on her.. was she never sick.. never violent.. never lost.. or did they just think she was weird and leave her alone to live in her own little world..
Terrible things could have happened to her in the city.. gangs and thugs were always looking for someone to use or even to hurt.. or kill.. Had she been a victim and just didn't know it.. how many awful things had she forgotten...

Time for him to stand up and do something right.. time to  become the wonderful son that she thought he was.. tomorrow they were going on an adventure.. he could hear her now digging through boxes of old clothes looking for a nice dress.. he had promised her a trip to eat ice cream and they would go early in the morning.. right after they left the doctor's office..
Evening shadows filled the stairs.. Dane leaned his head against the wall and listened to her singing inside the apartment.. he had knocked around from one place to the other before joining the Navy.. he had done everything he could to stay away from home until he had earned his fortune.. a fortune that he had never been able to claim.. now he was back and from the looks of things he had returned home a day late and a dollar short..

"Never waits for no man" he heard her say to her imaginary friends.. and felt the tears begin when she added..  " but my son always says.. better late than never"


Three Word Wednesday- grin- jumble- naked
Theme Thursday- Gossip
Sunday Scribblings  #268- better late than never
Weekend Wordsmith- Rusty



Thanks for stopping by to read my words.. I hope you enjoyed your visit..
I welcome both comments and followers.. Have a wonderful day!
Patsy

Saturday.. Turkeys Have Settled Down (We Hope!) .. and Are Setting on Two Eggs..

" What is sauce for the goose may be sauce for the gander but is not necessarily sauce for the chicken, the duck, the turkey or the guinea hen."
- Alice B. Toklas

" Old maids do not mind giving people trouble."
- Thomas Nelson Page

" The beginning of wisdom is to desire it."
- Solomon Ibn Gabirol

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Writers Island-
Prompt #12 for 2011: Inseparable


Inseparable

The curtain parted and the porch light came on.. Mama was peering out at us with owl eyes.. so afraid I might give up a tiny kiss on her sacred doorstep.. It was a good thing she hadn't seen us an hour ago.. seemingly inseparable..dancing on the bluff overlooking the city.. swaying to the soft sounds of violin music that rose from the music school down below.. I almost laughed as his wicked smile flashed and he shook my hand on Mama's porch.. "Goodnight Mrs Jones.." he said loud enough for her to hear.. "Goodnight Young Man.." we replied in unison..

- Saturday Centus #46-
(The Curtain Parted...)

Weekend Wordsmith #194-
(violin)

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Project 365- a Photo Every Day!~



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Breakfast

morning songbirds sing
romping in the spring sunlight
frowning house cat waits

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
3-19-2011


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Thanks for stopping by my blog today.. I welcome both comments and followers..
Have a great day!
Patsy

Friday.. Cold .. Dogs Barking at Shadows and My Left Hand is Itching..

"This whole world is wild at heart and weird on top."
~ David Lynch

"Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking."
~ Antonio Machado

"Youth is happy because it has the ability to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old."
~ Franz Kafka


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Week End Wordsmith #186- "Socks" -

Grandma Knits-

rockers creak fireside
woolen stitches sing along~
new socks warm my toes

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
1-21-2011

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Hunting Party

mountainside wolf howls
mournfully at father sky

squaw turns drying bear

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
1-18-2011

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Just Breath

my shadow
scarred and driven by pain
stomps along
companion through dreams denied
no heart- no tears- no life

written By: Patricia Sawyer
1-17-2011

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Thanks for stopping by my blog today.. I welcome both comments and followers..
Have a wonderful day!

Patsy

A Week End for Words..

"A baby is born with a need to be loved - and never outgrows it."
~ Frank Howard Clark

"A baby is God's opinion that life should go on."
~ Carl Sandburg

"A baby changes your dinner party conversation from politics to poops."
~ Maurice Johnstone

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~ Weekend Wordsmith is a blog spot.. for those of us who would be writers.. to pick up the Prompt of the Week as a challenge to write-write-write! If the word prompt tickles our fancy... we are asked to write about it on our own blog and then post a link to it in a comment on the Wordsmith blog.. others who visit there will then visit you and read your words.. The word of this week-end is Baby~

My parents had a lot of babies of their own and then took care of a million more that belonged to other people.. both in day care and in foster care.. .. the one MY Mom carries in this photo is me!

The word Baby did indeed tickle my fancy and I have posted three of the Haiku I wrote while thinking about babies.. Thanks for stopping by my blog today.. I hope you enjoy my words.. Have a wonderful Day!
Patsy



Baby

tiniest nestling
bringing thunder to my heart~
must you poop again?

Written by: Patricia Sawyer
6-11-2010

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Time for a Change

messy at midnight
wails call me from sandman's realm~
I welcome the change

Written By: Patricia sawyer
6-11-2010

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The Old Chair

reflections of joy
beckon my heart gently home~
pure love rests rocking

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
6-11-2010

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Finally Friday!

"Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it."
~Russel Baker

"A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken." ~James Dent

"If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance."
~ Bern Williams

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Finally School is out for the summer .. I know the children are excited.. I loved school but I loved the summer breaks too.. I would usually run and climb trees with Jimmy, Reuben, and Frank for most of every day.. Every where I have turned lately someone has asked for a "summer" poem.. from my local poetry group to several of the groups I follow on-line.. I guess everyone is happy to finally have summer days.. I guess that it is only natural now that summer is upon us.. This is one of my "Summer" poems! Wrote from a list of words for a contest.. it is also a reflection of summers past..


Summer Escapades


mud pies and hopscotch
played in the sand

nurturing guidance
from my Daddy's hand

butterflies and flowers
my dolly and toys

I left them behind
to be one of the boys

tattle-tales and trouble-makers
were sent on their way

imagination and laughter
filled most of our day

sibling bonding
performed with a scream

singing and sharing
and home-made ice cream

no crying nor whiners
no time left to pout

fearless from sun up
till the last stars are out

chores done for change
and candy in a sack

freedom and pinkie wishes
till school started back


Written By: Patricia Sawyer
6-4-2010




Would you care to guess what Weekend Wordsmith

has for their word of today... Yes! It is Summer!

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This poem was written in a way that was completely new to me.. I was given a list of words and told that I may NOT use any of them in my poem.. Instead I must use synonyms of each of them in my poem.. even the title are synonyms of the words I first chose.. a different way to write but interesting at least!

Word bank ~ Sick..Tired..Love..Hate..Lock..Heart..Lost/Lose..Dark..Star(s)..Sad..Fear..Laugh..Cry..Pain..Hurt/Hurting..Threat..Run..Hide..
..Whisper..Scream..Cut/Slice


Boundless Prejudice

ailing and exhausted
I cloak myself
beneath the glittering orbs

my yearning
securely clasped
one more wound in my core

vanished is all despair..
chortle or mourn
foreboding only a murmur in the wind

once wistful
I scampered baying
torment piercing my soul

I thought you mystical
and willingly followed
until treachery discarded my affection

I pray not for revenge
the infatuation was my own
I shall delight in detesting you

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
6-4-2010


Thanks for stopping by my blog today.. I hope you enjoyed your visit!
Patsy

A Short Story.. The Vandal

“When a man wantonly destroys one of the works of man we call him a vandal. When he destroys one of the works of god we call him a sportsman.”

~ Joseph Wood Krutch

"Vandalism happens in almost all cemeteries around the world.. It has for hundreds of years.. Young people seem to be addicted to it."
~ Terry Page

"Vandalism costs... cover items such as graffiti removal, broken swings, burned equipment and broken equipment in general."
~ Bob Ferguson



Weekend Wordsmith gave the word vandal for it's weekend prompt this week.. I have no excuse for not posting it before tonight.. I could give a few but the truth is that I was simply tired and didn't take the time to type it up.. I write all in one sitting so it's not like I could have asked someone else to type it for me.. Maybe you will enjoy it enough to forgive it's being posted on Monday! Have a great night!
Patsy

The Vandal

The old mansion sat way back on its lot.. Creepy.. old..oak trees with twisted..reaching arms hanging with Spanish moss.. sheltered it from the main road.. Settled into the deep shadows..It appeared abandoned and empty...its front shutters hung split and lopsided....the hand carved frame of a screen door banged and slammed with the slightest breeze.. It was the perfect spot for a brave.. budding young artist to paint his newest mural.. Spray cans in every pocket the lone despoiler crawled through the old gates and slipped silently along the cobblestone path in the dark.. Unaware that he was not alone... he knew no fear.. The lust to create singing through his veins.. he was elated to have found such a wonderful new canvas.. Mapping the huge mansion in his minds eye.. he imagined room after room of his art.. It would be his own gallery and he intended to fill it with his best works..

Shana shook her hair back from her eyes.. and stepped from the sting of the hot shower.. she had been practicing her invisibility spell when the young hoodlum had suddenly stepped boldly into her house.. lighting a few stubby candles... he had began spraying everything in his path with purple and green paint.. She had been forced to stand silent and still as he painted her and the ball room wall with can after can of bright colors.. Hours and hours he had worked on his masterpiece.. sometimes stepping back and surveying his art from many different angles.. Shana had been totally drained by the time he had looked at his time piece and gathered up his empty cans.... he had walked around the room and mumbled to himself about the depth and shading of his graffiti before finally stepping up to the wall to run his rough palms over the images there.... letting his hang linger on her left breast as if he could feel her heartbeat hidden beneath his painting.. as soon as he had disappeared down the path with a contented whistle.. she had leaped from the painting and ran for the shower .. hoping to wash away his paint and his touch.... Had he looked back he would have been surprised to see the bright lights shining from the tower rooms...

Dressed in a warm sweat shirt and old jeans.. with a cup of peppermint tea to replenish her spirit.. Shana leaned against the doorway to the ballroom and surveyed the mural on the farthermost wall.. with the exception of the blank spot in the shape of her outline.. the painting of the dragon was quiet good.. It actually looked as if the body of a woman had stepped from the creatures heart.. Shana was impressed.. bending low she sought a name.. she had long ago learned that almost all artists sign their work in some way.. She couldn't believe it!! Was it even possible..? Her Granny May would have been elated!! YES!!.. It said... Newton Blue..

Running for the kitchen Shana snapped her fingers and fanned away dust as the large.... leather bound.. spell book struck the work table with a thump.. turning the pages of Granny May's old book with a slight flick of the fingers she hoped she had remembered right.. The rarest ingredient.. the most sought after...long lost.. and then she found it... an ingredients list... one frog leg.. one bat wing.. an ants breath and the eye of a Newt--blue...

With a snap of her fingers and a toss of her head Shana was tucked into her tower room bed.. her cat.. wisdom.. was snuggled next to her feet and her new dress hung on the closet door.. She had to get up early tomorrow morning.. She had a hunt to begin.. she had conjured up the uniform she would need to attend the fancy private school.. She allowed herself one shiver as she thought about the earlier touch of the hooligan.. She would feel no pity.. She would capture the rarest ingredient.. She would make Granny May proud.. Tomorrow she would zip herself into the ugly plaid uniform dress and carry a navy blue backpack.. her hair would shine and her eyes would sparkle with a youthful glow.... she would even have a tiny wiggle in her walk.. Tomorrow she would be a new girl.. lost and confused in a new school.. Tomorrow she would catch the most sought after ingredient.. Tomorrow... she would capture the eye of Newt!..

Written By: Patricia Sawyer
10-19-2009

Just for starters... Weekend Wordsmith!

"A live concert to me is exciting because of all the electricity that is generated in the crowd and on stage. It's my favorite part of the business, live concerts. " ~ Elvis Presley

"A lot of words in English confuse the idea of life and electricity, like the word livewire."
~ Laurie Anderson

"What is a soul? It's like electricity - we don't really know what it is, but it's a force that can light a room. " ~ Ray Charles


Writers are different than most people.. even in our own group there is no NORM.. I do strange things like write words on scraps of paper.. Maybe I saw the word somewhere or maybe it was sent to me as a prompt.. maybe someone used it in scrabble and I didn't know what it meant..
But regardless of how they come to me.. they wind up scribbled on index cards and scraps of paper.. they fill bowls and baskets on my crowded desk and eventually they become a poem.. I will take a handful of them and write them again into a list.. thinking about each word as I re-write it and shred it's original scrap of paper.. today as I was writing down the word for this weekend from Weekend Wordsmith.... ~ELECTRICITY~ .. I decided to pull a handful of words from the pile and see what I could twist and turn them into..

theses are the words.. or phrases.. that my hand chose.. Foofaraw.. Limit..spirit of the drums..weeping willow..gnarled..Island.. rhythms.. ocean.. fallow... the old city ..incredible..key..silent..abandon..ugly..empty.. pink.. black sea.. embrace.. destiny.. secret.. scream.. fragile..silence..a newly uncorked wine.. plastic flamingos?...

I had to look up one word.. can you guess which one?.. it means noisily or fuss.. I guess I had some questions about the whole flamingo idea.. But I did put together a poem .. I have heard people say that the spirit of the islands will seep into your blood and and cause you to want to leave all reality behind.. I managed to use most of the words.. I guess I still have questions about the plastic flamingos.. ( I recognize this as a prompt from an earlier Weekend Wordsmith!) I used not the word flamingo but instead.. a description of them.. This might be a long night.. I have a lot of things I want to post.. so.. just for starters.. Have a wonderful Friday night!
Patsy

Island Rhythms

an empty black sea
stretches endlessly before me

the throbbing spirit of the drums
a fiery jolt of electricity
that dances through my soul

the old city ugly and abandoned
it's screams silent
all ambition gone
fragile destiny embraced

nimble crimson legs race
along the waters edge
delicate pink wings outstretched
grace and beauty combine
with a foofaraw of honking and babbling

slipping through the guard
of gnarled weeping willows
I slip the rusty key into my pocket
before joining my comrades
for a glass of newly uncorked wine
the emerald garden on my mind

tonight will be our farewell
I intend not to return to my fallow life
they will seek me but for a while
slipping away in the night I will be no more
treasure without limit lies beneath the nests
delicate creatures once chiseled into stone
The embodiment of the god Ra

I welcome the winds of change
the loud thumping of my heart
keeping perfect time
with the ancient island rhythms


Written BY: Patricia Sawyer
10-9-2009