Category Archives: creativity

Story Time

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golden path 2

Rain splatters in puddles, and rivulets of water snake down window panes.
Snot spatters on child-sized sweatshirts, and rivulets of same puddle above little pink lips.

“Tell us a story, Oma.” Oma has already told half a dozen just since nap time, but how does one refuse such a rapt audience?

“Once upon a time there was a little girl and her little brother.”
“No, not about us! A princess with three fairies!”

“Okay. Once upon a time there was a princess with three heads.”
“No, Oma! Three fairies!”
“Oh, right. A princess with one head, and three fairies with three heads.”

Little girl sits back, satisfied with the new head count.

Little boy chews on the round, magnifier lid of a “bug catcher” container he has pried open. The bug catcher holds a big black spider — correction: used to hold a big black spider before little boy pried the lid off.

Oma gently pulls the lid from little boy’s mouth.
“A magic mirror!” Little girl reaches for the snot-laden lid and holds it up to her eye. “The princess has a magic mirror!”

Oma hands little girl a magic tissue with which to clean the “mirror.” Little girl misses the point. (Just as well. The tissue later becomes a magical horse blanket.)

Future pretend magical horse rolls onto his side and lazily licks his paw.

“What does the princess see in the mirror?” Little girl looks wide-eyed into the magnifier lid.

Probably not much in its current condition, Oma thinks.
“The future!” Oma says.

♦♦♦

The princess learns that an evil horse prince is going to turn her little brother into a horse on her brother’s fourth birthday, unless the princess can stop him.

With the help of the three fairies (one head apiece) and her magical mucous-filled mirror, the princess sets off down the golden path to the dark forest where the evil horse prince with glowing red eyes lives in a dark, dark cave.

♦♦♦

The story progresses — with minor plot changes at little girl’s request — and at last the princess prevails.

Little boy has long since lost interest in the princess story and instead pretends to be drinking water from the insect catcher container which, he informs Oma, has spider poop in it.

Oma assumes that announcement is primarily based on two-year-old little boy’s fondness for saying the word “poop.” After all, the big black spider that formerly occupied the container is a plastic toy.

Oma would, however, like to know the whereabouts of the big black spider. She half-wonders if it’s going to come flying out of little boy’s nose the next time little boy sneezes.

Just then, the beautiful, wise and brave queen comes riding up the hill to the castle in her magical Subaru, and little boy and little girl greet the queen with coughing, sneezing, snot-flinging hugs and kisses.

Oma takes her leave and climbs aboard her handsome Nissan steed to head home to her palace. As Oma checks the magical rearview mirror, she gets a vision of her own future.

In the not-so-distant future, Oma foresees that she will be coughing, sneezing and snorting into her own magical tissues.

And they all live happily ever after.

Achoo!

Based on NaPoWriMo day eight prompt: Write poems in which mysterious and magical things occur. (I don’t know that this qualifies as poetry, but it is mysterious and magical.)

Take Two

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Here’s another take on Days Five and Six of the NaPoWriMo challenge, combined. Same photo, different poem, different experiment with line breaks. 

Mt Hood 

feel this day
with the soft touch of your gentle eyes
inhale this view; safeguard the scent in your heart
listen to the sunlight; taste its warmth on the mountaintop
tuck this day into the brightest recesses of your outermost soul
and share it as often and as loud and far and bright as you possibly can
for not everyone has the means nor  place  nor time nor the luxury nor sentience
to feel days like this

 

“Rued” Awakening

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You wake me in the morning and it’s always too early,
as though I had only just found sleep and had just chosen
my dream and then – boom! – here you are and there’s the
light coming through the curtains and my dream rolls away
to the edge of the bed where it hesitates just long enough
to tease a glimpse of how it would have played, where it
would have taken me and what lessons I may have gleaned,
and I stretch and try to pull the dream back to me, but it’s
already gone, and so in disappointed resignation, I reach
for you instead and take what slight solace — but mostly
revenge — I can muster as I find the “off” button and
silence your wretched alarm.

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NaPoWriMo challenge, Day Six: “Write a poem that stretches your comfort zone with line breaks.”  

NaPoWriMo, Day Five

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I’m participating in the National Poetry Writing Month challenge, writing a poem a day based on a specific prompt. So far, I’ve been running a day behind, but today I’m going to catch up and try to stay on track.

Today’s prompt is a bit involved. The gist is to choose a (relatively random) photograph, then find a poem in a language I don’t know. Ignoring any accompanying English translation, “translate” the poem to English as though the poem were actually about the random photo. The prompt says to “Use the look and feel of the words in the original to guide you along as you write, while trying to describe your photograph.”

Whew! Hopefully easier done than said.

So I opened up the photo gallery on my laptop, closed my eyes and pointed. I came up with this shot I took of Mt. Hood in Oregon, USA in 2013. So far, so good.

Mt Hood

Then I went looking for a poem, and found one written in Slovakian, coincidentally titled “Mountain.” The poem was hecka long, though, and seemed rather daunting. I decided to see what other bloggers were up to, and checked out “Mexi Movie the Third” to see Manja’s entry for today’s challenge.

Wisely, Manja had chosen a four-line poem written in Afrikaans. Now that seemed much more manageable.

So I stole her poem to translate. (Hope you don’t mind, Manja 😀 )

Here’s the original poem, as written by poet Hester Ley Ney.  (Hope you don’t mind, Hester 😀 : )

Hierdie dag
wat ek graag wou vashou
het gesmelt
en weggedrup uit my hand

Okay. Time for me to “translate” based on my photo:

hardy day
what a great view shown
and smelled
on the way up to it with my hand

Well, now. That was interesting… Wonder what fun tomorrow’s challenge will hold.

Waking the Muse

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books2

On the book shelf she’d hidden for nearly a year
‘mongst the likes of O. Henry and bard William Shakespeare.
From her disheveled looks and the smell of stale beer,
I assessed that some things are quite as they appear.

“Wake up and come forth,” I commanded my muse.
“I’m penning some poems and your help I could use.
I see that your break has been sorely abused;
I assure you assuredly I’m less than amused.”

Muse swiped at the sleep in her glazed, bloodshot eyes;
attempted to focus, or so I surmised.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, yawning, her ennui undisguised.
“I thought you’d conceded your poetic demise.”

“Au contraire,” I enthused with undeserved pride.
“I’m ready to rhyme with my muse at my side.
But your slovenly sloth I shall not abide.
‘Midst these rival word peddlers you no longer may hide.”

“Is that so?” said my muse with a withering glare.
“You’re forgetting one term of this contract we share.
I only assist you when I give a care,
so your impudent tone is a risk best not dared.”

“I meant not to insult you,” I quickly backtracked
in full comprehension of the talent I lacked.
I knew it was time to attempt a new tack.
“I would be most obliged if you deemed to come back.”

“Then I’ll help you,” she said, “to write exquisite rhymes,
sonorous lyrics, unforgettable lines.
There’s just one condition if I help you this time.
I expect with each poem I shall get a byline.”

“Agreed!” I exclaimed as I quickly agreed.
(My redundant redundancy belies my great need.)
“Then be done with this drivel so that we may proceed.”
Herewith ends this poem, and it’s high time, indeed.

Most gratefully authored by Yours Truly
AND my most eminent Muse

What Rhymes with NaPoWriMo?

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For the past two Aprils I have participated in the A-to-Z writing challenge, where one writes 26 posts for the month, following an alphabetical theme of some sort. I had a wonderful idea for this year’s challenge but, alas, it didn’t get past the wonderful idea phase. Maybe next year.

But this year – well, just today – I decided to participate in NaPoWriMo, the National Poetry Writing Month. The challenge is similar. Write a new poem each day for a month. I may not post all of these poems, but I will share at least some of them.

floor1

Chules likes the “industrial” style of my new kitchen floor. He can scratch it up to his heart’s content, and it will just add to the “look.” 

I’ve been neglecting the blog lately as I’ve been focusing on my seemingly never-ending kitchen redo project. This week, I finally installed the new flooring. I’m very proud that I managed to reduce my sitting-on-the-floor to standing transition time by several seconds. And I think the floor turned out well, too.

So now I’ve got ‘til Sunday to locate my poetry muse, dust her off, and convince her to join me in this endeavor. I wonder where she wandered off to…

Three Arches in Black & White

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When I saw the subject for this week’s Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge, I knew I had the perfect photo. The theme this week is “Arches, Domes and Half Circles.”

So here’s a photo of a half-circle window that abstractly depicts the Three Arch Rocks in Oceanside, OR. I just finished making this window and we installed it a couple of days ago.

If you’d like to see the window in color (recommended), I’ve posted it on my Glass Gallery page here.

Here are some more photos for the Challenge:

window7

Courtyard archway in Lake Oswego, OR

window6

Half-circle windows in the Multnomah County Library in Portland, OR.

window8

Archway at Battery Russell in Warrenton, OR.

 

Imagine that

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imaginary1

Oh, there you are! My imaginary friend! I’m glad you showed up. I’m feeling a bit sad today. Well, maybe not “sad” so much… just lonely, I guess.

Anyway, now that you’re here, let’s play! Wanna sing songs? It’s extra fun when we make up our own words to the tunes. Or we could lay in the grass and watch the clouds go by. We can pick out shapes that look like animals and tell stories about what they’re doing up there in the sky.

imaginary 2

What’s that you say? You don’t have time to play with me? But imaginary friends always have time to play! They never change; they’re supposed to be there whenever you need them.

Yes, that’s what I said; they never change. Well, sure, I guess you do look older. But that’s okay, ‘cuz I still feel just as young as the day you first…

… imagined me.

imaginary3

Oh.

So you’re real and I’m the imaginary friend. And now that you’re older you don’t need me anymore? I see.

No, no… I understand. I’m okay. It’s just… sad.

Well, you go on, then. I know you’re busy. I’ll just sit here and…

Hey! There’s a little girl over there. She looks kind of sad, don’t you think? Or maybe not “sad” so much… just lonely.

imaginary4

Excuse me, little girl.  My name is Imogene. Wanna play? I know lots of cool games! You’re real, right? ‘Cuz – you know – I’m kind of… imaginary.

You’ll play with me? Great!

What? Oh, that girl I was talking to over there? Yes, we’re friends. We used to hang out together a lot when she was your age, but now…

… now she doesn’t imagine as well as she used to.

The Daily Post daily one-word prompt: Imaginary