Tuesday, August 31, 2010

For my mother

I remember being in the womb
Floating in love and anticipation
that someday the gigantic cocoon i was in
would break free
and the soothing voice
murmuring from the heavens above
would teach me such things as
how to tie my shoes,
how to write a thank-you letter,
and how to hold a grieving person's hand.
She would show me
how to make "Better Than Sex" cake,
how to roll sock balls,
and how to make my own reservations.
She would know
how to braid my hair,
how to praise my successes,
and how to cushion my failures.
From inside my ocean,
i was certain
that she couldn't help but stay with me
Because her voice was all around me
And it was all i knew of safety,
of nourshment,
of bouyancy.
Today--and on fortunate days--
i get to see her face.
But inside, above, below and all around me
i always can hear
her voice.

This poem was written for Poet's United prompt #14 of "Water" and Sunday Scribblings prompt #230 of "Faith"

The Long War

The following poem is in response to this week's Magpie Tales prompt.

                The war-torn veteran stood on the grassy slope.  It had been over 50 years since he had stood on this very spot and gazed at her house.  The deceiving sun lit the face of familiar bricks, beckoning him forth.  Since then he had lost his idealism, his youth, and his left arm.
               He was returning, at last, to her.
              Would she stand at the threshold of the door in silence?  Pity?  Anger?
              Was she even alive?
             With every breath he wished so, as she was the one who brought him onto this earth.  And he wanted to be the one to take her out of it.

Monday, August 30, 2010


This poem is a response for this week's prompt provided by
Thursday Tales.

 I gasp whenever
the winds of time blow you
to my door once again
(And for a short time,
it is
how it was)
The rooster momentarily pauses
and allows us
a secret coupling...
He winks
before averting his gaze
in a westernly direction.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

The Parasite of Pain

“We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.”

~Kenji Miyazawa

          Thursday's Think Tank from Poet's United
          The idea or concept of pain can cover a vast field of thoughts and emotions. We must confront pain no matter how simple or hard it is. This week write about whatever pains you.

Swallowing your poison seed
I understand the infestation
won't take too long
before it goes
from my helpless nerve endings
driven into the core of my brittle bones
And then up into
my defenseless cerebral cortex.
Deep inside my innermost membrane,
your kernal of malice
is bured under a decade-old compost pile
of rotting fear and insecurity
Adding silence,
hatred blooms triumphant.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Witness Trees

                                                Thursday Think Tank #10
                                                       Poets United

"For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be”
~Lord Alfred Tennyson

It is said that the eyes are the window to the soul. Share with us your poem about the eyes. If we vote right now for our prompt for the week…the eyes have it.

Witness Trees

They watch our scurrying in silence.
Building our anthills with fervor,
marching in lines.
They can't understand the noise, bloodshed and horror.
They observe us slaughtering each other
with colossal machines of death.
Back and forth we run
moving dirt this way and that
in rhythms of chaos and explosions.
In their motionlessness
they must think we're lunatics
Racing, pacing, interlacing stones with sky.
They must know by now that they should be afraid.
And even if they could grow eyes,
surely all they would do is cry.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010


This is a submission for Sunday Scribblings #227, and this week's topic was "halfway."


I sit here.
You sit there.
5 feet apart.
But it seems more than 5 feet
in that distance
there are miles of hurt
there are highways of mistrust
there are oceans of pain.
I could fill the sky
with what you've done.
In that distance
is a space
that can't be bridged.
5 feet apart.
And Halfway
is nowhere.


Monday, August 9, 2010

An Award! Yay me!

I am really honored that Traci over at  38 and growing awarded me with the Versatile Blogger Award.  This is my first award and i am truly grateful for all the wonderful comments and support.  You guys are awesome!

Now i need to tell you seven things about myself:

1.  My favorite book is Charlotte's Web, and yes, my pen name is the character from the book.  Templeton's scrappy and conniving and can be bribed with food (much like myself)!
2.  I like to eat dry cereal.
3.  I have two feline roommates, Frankie and Wilson.
4.  I recently started computer dating.  YIKES!
5.  I still feel about 8 or 9 most days.
6.  My TV remote is currently lost and i'm hoping it finds itself.
7.  I have written a Young Adult novel that i think is pretty good, but i don't know how to proceed.  (Meaning, how to get my stuff out into the world).  I also am trying to get a poetry book together, as well.  But for a girl from Detroit who doesn't have much knowledge about the business, and self esteem for that matter, getting to my dream of publication seems daunting at times!

Now comes the fun part.  i get to nominate 10 other blogs that i feel deserve this award.  Here are the blogs i frequent regularly:

                        Madison at Afternoon Tea
                         Crystal at Autism's Bitch
                        Brenda at Beyond the Bozone
                        Wookie's Girl at Bleeding Insanity Again
                         Mavis at Cinnamon Synonym
                          Amity at Dreams are My Reality  
                            Ellie at Ellie Garrett
                        T at T's Subplot
                            Rebecca at Just a Thought
                          Jack at Letters from a Sanitarium

Thanks again for reading!

Sunday, August 8, 2010


Jenny Matlock gives a prompt that must be kept intact and used somewhere in the writing (it's in bold).

           Young Henry was exhilarated beyond belief when the Traveling Circus came to town. He had waited all day in line to see Fredrico the Fantastic Fortune Teller! He would finally get an answer to the most pressing question on his heart: did his beautiful classmate Mabel like him?
             Stepping in the tent, Henry posed this question to the marvelous Fredrico, who stared fixedly into a giant crystal ball. Fredrico narrowed his eyes stated mysteriously, “Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.”

            “Huh?” Henry replied, getting angry that Fredrico had taken his nickel and given him nonsense in return. He had been duped!  At that moment that his overbearing mother popped her head inside the tent, “Mr. Ford, get your little butt out here this instant!”

            Henry scurried outside muttering, “What a sham!”


Magpie 26

Drip Drop Drip Drop Drip
You are the watering can
to my thirsty soul

Friday, August 6, 2010

My Sanctuary

The Thursday Think Tank
Poets United will put out weekly poetry prompts in hopes of inspiring great poetry. We will attempt to do so every Thursday. This is not a requirement of our members, it is merely a way to provoke our creative urges.

Sanctuary: a place of refuge
My Sanctuary
My sanctuary lies in a musty church basement.
It is decorated with uncomfortable metal folding chairs and smells of strong, black coffee.
My sanctuary doesn't have a choir.
In fact, instead of hymns I hear anthems of despair.  Anthems of desperation and, at times, surrender.
I don't find angels either. 
The voice of God sounds exactly like the stranger sitting next to me.
In my sanctuary i find my fellow tribe members.  And they will keep me safe from the visions in my head for a short while.
I am sheltered from the monster that whispers, "This time you can handle it."
This church basement holds
laughter and tears
hope and redemption
death and life.
My sanctuary is no longer in the shape of little white pills.
Now my sanctuary is in me.

Ten Little Piggies

Hey all! Welcome to Thursday Tales.
Here, every week on Wednesday/Thursday, we offer you a photograph to base a short story on, and no, you don't have to write thousand words!! The rules will be put up in the prompt too. And we hope you shall have fun writing on the basis of a picture.(It's harder than it seems.) Any one who participates will be added to our Tales Train.
Tale #19
Ten Little Piggies

       The ancient mermaid had finally earned her legs after 575 years, exactly.
       As she walked down the beach for the first time, the granules of sand squished between the stubby tentacles on the bottom of where her fins used to be.  (It kinda hurt actually.) She instinctively felt under her breasts for her gills and was met with hard, stony ridges instead. The new airholes in her head felt very small and inadequate indeed.
       The sun seemed angry up here, beating on where her scales used to be and slapping her face.  There were strange beasts swimming overhead in the light blue expanse of sky.  She missed the dark blue comfort of her home.
       It was extraordinary not to have to use her arms for movement.  She quite didn't know what to do with them, first holding them out parallel to the sand and then folded them into her torso.  Being human was a such a complicated ordeal!
       She had been told that she only had about 3 days before this body would break down from lack of feeding, so she decided she must begin looking for sustinance at once.  But where to go?  She was alone and a feeling of dread washed over her.
       Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all...

Thursday, August 5, 2010


Microfiction Monday #42

Only the crumbling walls remember now.

Only they recall the screams of the small children.

The burning of flesh and the witch’s maniacal howling.

The oven that held dark secrets was gone.

The very last gumdrops

Had long ago melted in the unforgiving sun.

New growth had sprung up, covering the dilapidated peppermint stairs.

Only the crumbling walls remember now.

Saturday Centus

Saturday Centus #13
100 word meme using the prompt highlighted in bold.

The summer breeze flowed through my fingers spread out like a starfish, as we drove last weekend.  Randingo and I were checking the local garage sales for hidden treasures, and I had just disclosed the fact that I had started a blog a few months back.

“I don’t get it,” she says, “I’ve told you before that your poetry is good. What’s different about hearing it from complete strangers?”

“That’s just it…they don’t know me. Their comments therefore have to be sincere, right?” I explained.

“Yeah, they don't know you," she pondered. "Now i see that’s why it meant so much.”

Tuesday, August 3, 2010


Magpie Tales #25


The leathery old man at the pawn shop reached across the glass countertop and blew cigar smoke in my face.
"Ma'am," he rasped, "You can't sell this lock.  Not while your first love still has the key."

Sunday, August 1, 2010


The sun cuts like a knife
through the watery surface
 and the bottom of the pool suddenly
becomes a place where
brilliant diamond-shapes
come to dance.

someone calls my name from
across a vast expanse
and i leap unabashedly into the atmosphere
secure in the knowledge
of being caught.

Because i am little i do not feel
the iciness of the water as it hits my skin,
for i am wearing an imaginary cape
(if you didnt notice)
I do not taste the salty chlorine,
for i still have remnants
of hot dog stuck in my teeth.
I can't feel the sting of water
going up my nose
for ive learned enough to

Inhaling deeply i lie on my back
pretending to be a dead log.
The balloons of air tucked deep in my stomach
will be my secret supply of oxygen.
i push my belly above the surface
showing the birds and squirrels
my neat trick

If i wanted
I could roll around in any formation,
wiggling my toes
and somersaulting into oblivion and
watch the blue underwater world spin
round and round like the dryer.

So when did i learn fear?

i rip the plasticy smelling water wings
off my arms
and step to the edge of the world
and i dont care
if someone is there to catch me
when i leap into the air
because i remember now
what i once knew as a small child: