Posted in Just for Fun!, Life Writing, Love Is In Da Blog

Moving On for Song Lyric Sunday and #LoIsInDaBl Day 28

Why, hello once again! Are you ready to play with music? I am! Today’s Love Is In Da Blog  prompt is to share a song about a goodbye. So, in conjunction with Song Lyric Sunday, let’s watch a departure…Lyrics from Paul Simon’s Official Website. 

She Moves On

Lyrics:

I feel good
It’s a fine day
The way the sun hits off the runway
A cloud shifts
The plane lifts
She moves on

But feel the bite
Whenever you believe that
You’ll be lost and love will find you
When the road bends
And the song ends
She moves on

I know the reason
I feel so blessed
My heart still splashes
Inside my chest, but she
She is like a top
She cannot stop
She moves on

A sympathetic stranger
Lights a candle in the middle of the night
Her voice cracks
She jumps back
But she moves on, moves on

She says “Ooh, my storybook lover
You have underestimated my power
As you shortly will discover”

Then I fall to my knees
Shake a rattle at the skies
And I’m afraid that I’ll be taken
Abandoned, forsaken
In her cold coffee eyes

She can’t sleep now
The moon is red
She fights a fever
She burns in bed
She needs to talk so
We take a walk
Down in the maroon light

She says “Maybe these emotions are
As near to love as love will ever be”
So I agree
Then the moon breaks
She takes the corner, that’s all she takes
She moves on

She says “Ooh my storybook lover
You have underestimated my power
As you shortly will discover”

Then I fall to my knees
I grow weak, I go slack
As if she’d captured the breath of my
Voice in a bottle
And I can’t catch it back

But I feel good
It’s a fine day
The way the sun hits off the runway
A cloud shifts
The plane lifts
She moves

Words and Music by Paul Simon

 

This song is from the album “The Rhythm of the Saints”, and I experienced it performed live (oh! those drums!) during the Born at the Right Time Tour. I took my new sister-in-law to that concert; she had given birth to my nephew, now in his mid-twenties, only a few months before.

Here are the “rules”…

  • Post the lyrics to a favorite song or a new song you want to share
  • I’ve started including who wrote the song. (I think it’s a good idea to give credit where credit is due)
  • Make sure you also credit the singer/band and provide a link to where you found the lyrics
  • Link to the YouTube video, or pull it into your post so others can listen to the song
  • Ping back to this post or my own Song Lyric Sunday post
  • Read at least one other person’s blog so we can all share new and fantastic music and create amazing new blogging friends in the process.

Well, that’s my song for this week. I’m a huge fan of the imagery; it suits my personal love of word pictures.  Come on back next week for more musical, lyrical fun!

Posted in #8Sunday, Blogfest Entries, Just for Fun!, Marketing my Writing, Writing in Freedom

Whispering Strangles: #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday!

It’s the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! We’ve got a variety of genres and talented writers just waiting for you to come sample their wordy wares. Come read one, or all, or pick a few like leftover holiday memories….

And, if you’re inclined to share your own 8-10 sentence snippet, follow the link and sign up. It’s a great community to be a part of! =D

I was away last week, busily finishing up a short story for a contest deadline. I’m happy with the results, and might even have good news to share in June. But that was last week; this week, I offer you the next eight sentences of A Splash of Red”, a surreal fantasy story, the child of my own life and dreams, with a generous dollop of imagery and a big dash of creative license…

More on the story after the snippet.

Context, such as it is…A woman is attempting to win the trust of a little girl in a red dress, while hawks wheel above…but just who are these two to one another? And what about those hawks?

When we left our woman and child two weeks back, the little girl had vanished into the woods, and the woman is realizing her power and the child’s vulnerability, and her belief that she was responsible for the hawks’ attacks….

Given the surrealism of the story, punctuation is a bit creative, so be warned!

Whispering Strangles

I know better now. I remember my t’ai chi practice. Yes.

I drop my fist, relax my stance. Not resistance.

Flow.

Flowing, I run, seeking a splash of red and long golden hair.

A new whispering strangles the air, and a heavy, crushing shadow dives down into the trees – it cries out with Mother’s voice, layered over those who had screamed at her. Her screams are tearing pain, beaks and talons stripping my blooded carcass…stripping me…stripping the little girl I was of meat and life –

Previous “A Splash of Red” snippets:

 Come back next week for another installment!

Did you like what you read? “A Splash of Red” was originally published in the 2014 inaugural edition of World Unknown Review,  which is edited by L.S. Engler. Since I retain all rights beyond first publication, I intend to revise the story and use it as my own initial self-publishing experiment.

That being said, I’d love any and all input and criticism you’re inclined to offer!

Want more #8Sunday?

Posted in Blogfest Entries, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, My Poetry, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Travel, Writing in Freedom

“Indescribable”: #SoCS for 11/14/15

This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: ‘indescribable’, as a word or a topic…I opted for both.

It’s been a busy day. I shut down my computer a bit after 6am – the new moon had me writing through the night, and I’m now only five scenes from the end of my first draft of Sea Changes (KIC#3). I was up at 11, to take my daughter to her cousin’s zorbing birthday party. Soon after I finish this post, I will be heading out to my friend Lizette’s house for a NaNo writing party (and I need to remember to stop at the store for something sweet to share).

Amidst these varying facts, my thoughts are whirling and circling and moving in intriguing directions…which led to today’s SoCS writing….

 

Indescribable

I’ve felt it all my life, as a current that runs beneath the surface, where most people look, listen, and live.

There’s something under there.

Like the Loch Ness monster, maybe, or a thermocline that offers up a sudden rush of warm water while I’m scuba diving. Like the little fish that nibbled my legs in the lake at Pinewoods Lodge Campground, last summer – or that brush of hard curved surface that brushed past my fingers in that murky, sandy water – was it a snapping turtle? We’d seen a baby one on the beach, the year before. I even have pictures. So, where there are baby snapping turtles, there must be mommy and daddy ones to fertilize and lay the eggs.

But I’ll never know for certain if that’s what I touched. The answer lies in the depths. Like in the time I heard a splash along the Firehole River in Yellowstone National Part, when we still lived and worked there, and had no children other than one fluffy little black and tan puppy with sky blue eyes.

I looked to where the sound had come from, and saw – nothing.

For a quarter of a breath or so.

And then my reality shifted.

Forever.

Indescribably.

I’d tell you exactly what I saw, and the emotions and shifting that it evoked in me – but I can’t. The experience is too high, too wide, too deep, too profound, too everything, to be put into words.

I can only fall back on language, because, sadly, I’ve yet to master the Vulcan mind meld, and I didn’t have a camera with me, only a puppy needing to pee. I’m not the type who can sculpt or paint or quilt what I saw –

So I painted the image with words, but it only touched the surface of what I lived, in that moment, when the surface of the water parted to reveal a new truth –

From my poem Firehole River Splash, written October 17, 2012.

Something rising from the water

Something alive –

The moment crystal and infinite

White feathered head

Yellow eye meeting mine without

Hesitation or fear.

I am the one who does not belong

Here.

Rising, rising, rising…

Shedding

Rainbows of water

Powerful wings spread and lift

Beak opens in a fierce cry

Away from the trees on the

Opposite bank comes

Eager answer.

Rising, rising, rising…

And now, the talons

Clutching the small, arching trout

Who could not avoid

The bald eagle

death

that

dove

out

of

the

sky.

Oh, yes. Those are pretty words, and they do evoke an image. Only thing is, like many of the most momentous moments in a life, it’s not complete, and can never be, I can’t give you the soul of this, any more than I can the exact impact of looking into the faces of my newborns, or knowing I was in love with my Accomplice, or how it felt to watch him cradle our dead infant son in his arms for over an hour, unwilling or unable to let him go, because that would mean never holding him again.

The moments that most change me always seem to be indescribable, undefinable, beyond what can be expressed in any human means other than the invisible, indelible, indecipherable ways that they change and shape me into something other than what I might have been without them.

It’s ironic, but I write to touch these moments and experiences, to attempt to understand them, crystallize them into something I can share, as though they are precious gems I can hold upon my palm….when, in truth, like a snowflake, they are swiftly gone, with my wordless memory of them the only record that they ever existed to begin with…

Paradoxical, that I use something as concrete and unbending as language in my attempt to fit the shape and scope of what lies beneath, and that I do it in the full knowledge that it can never, ever work…

Because sharing a glimpse of the indescribable, a tracing of its shadow, is still preferable to simply allowing it to pass by unnoticed and unremarked- upon.

Have you ever experienced the indescribable? Tried to give it shape and substance in the corporeal world? Did you find a way? I’d love to know!

Have you tried stream-of consciousness writing?

Come read more, or join in – there’s just a few simple rules.

Check out the #SoCS hashtag,

or click here!

Posted in Challenges and Contests, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, My Poetry, OctPoWriMo Challenge, Writing in Freedom

“Words Vanished Like Smoke” for #OctPoWriMo Day 16

5195a-img_20150928_151453

If you love to write poetry, you love a good poetry challenge, and you are missing April’s NaPoWriMo then you are in the right place. There are now multiple Novel writing months it is past time we added another Poetry month. October is a great time to challenge poets to a poem a day for thirty one days.

This October, I’m also focusing on gratitude, so each of my poems will use the daily prompt, and deal in some way with thankfulness. Come join me on this poetic journey – and feel free to comment, or link your own poems.

It’s been a bit since I’ve posted a poem here – I’ve written some that I’ll be sharing over the next days, and I have a few left to catch up (not out of a sense of obligation to the challenge, but because what life handed me will not deter me from my month-long self-indulgence with poetry, which is also a warm-up of sorts for next month’s NaNoWriMo challenge).

I’m deeply thankful to be able to return to this creative outlet!

For October 16th, the OctPoWriMo prompt is Paradelle – a form described in more detail by Shadow Poetry (click the link to learn more).

I found this prompt boggling when I first read it – but a good sleep and some other activities gave me time to think it over, and I decided to pull some lines from an earlier poem, Candlelight Commingled Kisses.

It still wasn’t easy, and the result is more than a little rough, as yet. I struggled with punctuation….but I feel like I’ve got a more universal encounter than the original version, and the mental exercise was intriguing.

So, without further ado….

Words Vanished Like Smoke

Words vanished like smoke blended into air and our breath.

Words vanished like smoke blended into air and our breath.

This breath warmed by candlelight, witnessed by chaotic space.

This breath warmed by candlelight, witnessed by chaotic space.

This breath like smoke blended into warmed candlelight space

Our breath witnessed by air and by chaotic vanished words.

Flickering uncertainty between what has been and what will be

Flickering uncertainty between what has been and what will be

The kiss a live thing known alien binding promising

The kiss a live thing known alien binding promising

The flickering live promising kiss a binding thing between

What will be known and what has been alien uncertainty.

Leaning in pulling away dancing of these small flames

Leaning in pulling away dancing of these small flames

Welcome promise demand ending of mystery beginning of knowing

Welcome promise demand ending of mystery beginning of knowing

Promise leaning in ending of mystery of pulling away

These small knowing flames demand dancing welcome beginning.

By words blended in the smoke of our live chaotic breath

Alien uncertainty vanished into dancing candlelight

This beginning kiss small demand flickering thing of air

Leaning away promising known welcome space between

Warmed by these knowing flames breath witnessed like mystery

What has been ending and what will be a binding promise.

Posted in Blogfest Entries, Challenges and Contests, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, My Poetry, OctPoWriMo Challenge, Stream of Consciousness Saturday

the unexpected poem for #SoCS and #OctPoWriMo Day 3

5195a-img_20150928_151453

If you love to write poetry, you love a good poetry challenge, and you are missing April’s NaPoWriMo then you are in the right place. There are now multiple Novel writing months it is past time we added another Poetry month. October is a great time to challenge poets to a poem a day for thirty one days.

This October, I’m also focusing on gratitude, so each of my poems will use the daily prompt, and deal in some way with thankfulness. Come join me on this poetic journey – and feel free to comment, or link your own poems.

For October 3rd, the OctPoWriMo prompt is “Showing Up” – coming to the page even when you might rather not, because life is being troublesome. As it happens, life recently threw our family an unexpected wrinkle, and, while things might be rather less than delightful right now, it appears that the outcome will perhaps unexpectedly bring benefits we were struggling to provide for ourselves.

I transformed this angst into a poem – because the written word is how I process the unexpected in life….which is where the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt comes in – “expect/unexpected”.

Anyway, it’s now officially Sunday, so I’m going to go ahead and finish this belated post (life held the unexpected on Saturday, and I’m running late…). Click the links to read more poems or stream-of-consciousness posts, or add your own! =)

the unexpected poem

i

expect

life to move

expectedly

its trajectory

measured mapped charted

but sometimes my life

unexpectedly

throws in a

syllable

extra

or

wanders off

                           in directions

of its own choosing

                                                                 leaving me to hold

                                      for dear life to the

high-strung lifeline that

                                                                                  separates

what

                   i

expected

                     and

reality

Posted in Challenges and Contests, Enterprise fan fiction, Just for Fun!, Parenting, Sexuality and Erotica, Story a Day May Challenge, WIPpet Wednesday, Writing in Freedom

Adrian’s Sticky Note and Other Little Things: WIPpet Wednesday

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! She may be less physically present for a bit, but she’s still our fearless shepherd!

Today’s WIPpet is brought to you by Story a Day May and a couple of old friends some of you have been waiting for…

Oh, yes – they’re back! And with them comes the obligatory disclaimer:

Disclaimers:

  • T’Pol and Trip are the property of Paramount; no copyright infringement is intended; and no money is being made from this writing…it’s simply an act of passion for characters they abandoned!

  • This story contains mild suggestiveness.

WIPpet Math:

  • Today is May 6, 2015.
  • I added the month and day (5+6=11), then added one…for baby Elizabeth.
  • Twelve mostly short paragraphs today.

Today’s snippet uses several prompts. The official” Story A Day prompt was to write a story rich in setting (I get better at this as I revise, usually, but I tried). A guest prompt from Seanan McGuire offered this phrase: “Some little things got left out, and a little means a lot.” That becomes important later in the story. And, although you have to read the full version to find out how, I also used a “sticky note” as an integral plot device. That prompt came from fellow WIPpeteer Adrian Smith, who gets to throw me a word for every 10K she writes, until her story is finished. (I’ll do that for anyone who’s interested; I love the challenge of fitting in oddball words from other people’s heads!).

A bit of setup… (and a warning to stop here, if you don’t want spoilers!)

Trip and T’Pol’s baby daughter, Elizabeth, has just died as a result of the flawed cloning process that created her without their knowledge (It’s complicated; there was a human supremacy plot…). This is the aftermath, and my scene picks up right where this one leaves off…

“It’s the Little Things…”

Her hand was shaking, and her fingers clutched at him. The golden chain of her IDIC dropped over his leg. In the wombike dimness, there was something so intimate in the touch, the silence filled only with their breath and Elizabeth’s death. God, was it only days ago that she had told him that she didn’t know how they had a baby, but that she was certain she could feel their child – ?

“Oh, hell, T’Pol, this hurts so bad. How the hell are we supposed to get through this?”

That’s when the first tear slipped down her cheek, then another, and another. “We grieve together, Trip. We grieve as her family. We grieve, and we remember.” It was just a faint little whisper, like she didn’t have the energy for more. But her words were strong. Strength and fragility in one beautiful, confounding, complicated package.

Trip was very aware of her tears, her trembling fingers, the pressure of her warmer-than-human hand on his thigh…and the tiny weights of the chain and what was in his chest pocket, over his heart.

The trace of citrus and sandalwood in the air, with a strong mineral lacing…oh, damn.

“Her family…yeah, I guess we’re that, forever.” He wanted to rub his mouth, but with his other arm in a sling, he had to settle for sticking his tongue in his cheek.

**

“The connection is indelible.” She was unsure how he would feel about that; less so how he would feel when he learned that the bond between them was, as well. Would he find it comforting, or confining? He had suggested that they might try to conceive a child; did that come from his pain and loss, or was it a desire to share life with her, in some manner?

His cool fingers held to hers, intimate, strong, capable…fingers that had calibrated fine micro-circuitry, maintained the most powerful engine his people had ever invented, stroked their daughter’s cheek, mastered neuropressure, ouz’hestas, and caresses that sent her spiraling into the ecstasy of sexual release…

“You OK?” His voice was soft and rough; he tipped his head and used the same tone he had five years ago, when he had first asked. Then, she hadn’t understood.

“No. Are you?”

“Not even close.” He squeezed her hand; the pleasure rippled through her, building to a quiver. Dangerous, to have touched him so. More so by far, to persist in doing so.

Necessary.

What’s next for our grieving parents? Can they heal together, or will this mean the end of their relationship?

Now, usually, I leave you hanging. This time, though, I can say that the series finale that followed this episode was – unsatisfactory, to say the least. It jumped six years into the future, and TnT weren’t a couple anymore, if the holodeck programming on Enterprise-D (Captain Picard‘s ship) is to be believed (I’m inclined to think it’s not). No reason was given as to why…

So…

I’m coming up with something better. Because I’m a writer, and that’s what we do!

You can read the rest of this story, and my other non-chronological Story A Day TnT entries, at these links:

Need more, non-Trek WIPpet Snippets? Well, hop onto the little blue froggy;we’ve got a WIPpet lily-pads to choose from! And may you all have a delightful week –  I’m off to play with TnT, empires and news stories! =D  

 

And, let’s end with a video tribute to baby Elizabeth and her parents, with delicious vocals by Alison Krauss

Posted in Challenges and Contests, Just for Fun!, Life Writing, Parenting, WIPpet Wednesday, Writing in Freedom

“You WILL Answer Me”: WIPpet Wednesday

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! She may be less physically present for a bit, but she’s still our fearless shepherd…or something like that, anyway.

Before I get on with the WIPpetty (it’s a word; I just made it up!) business of the day, I have an announcement:

**

This is the 1000th post on this blog! And here we are, all here together! How cool is that? Because now, I can invite you over to my 999 party for fun and refreshments and the chance to meet some new friends, and say hi to older ones. C’mon over and party with me!

**

Today’s WIPpet is brought to you by CampNaNoWriMo

I’m sharing, from Generations (name may change); the second novel in my Kifo Island Chronicles series-in-the-making. The Kifo Island stories takes place at a resort that’s a little like hospice meets Fantasy Island

Generations Premise:

Can Kifo Island help three generations of a wounded makeshift family coexist despite the forces and secrets that tear them apart, or will time run out for the dying grandmother, the abusive stepfather, and the brilliant, traumatized little girl caught in the middle?

WIPpet Math:

  • Today is April 22, 2015 – Earth Day, in America.
  • I‘m giving you the first 22 sentences, plus one to remind us that we all share one world (and because the last sentence rounds things out).

Today we meet Gladys, an elderly woman with Parkinson’s Disease; Howard, her grandson; and Iris, Howard’s young stepdaughter. Gladys is in her kitchen, with a window cracked open, when she hears Howard and Iris arriving by car.

Iris. Photo by Shan Jeniah Burton.

Disclaimer for language and possible triggers…I want this story to offer a positive message; but not to shy away from the topic of child abuse and its impacts. If you’re especially sensitive to fictional mistreatment of children, please don’t read this, because someone is not going to be very nice to a child, right from the start.

And listen here, you little bastard brat. You will answer me when I speak to you – and you will call me Father Howie, and nothing else. Got that?”

There were times when Gladys Marieta wished that her hearing had gone the way of her agility. But, then again, her not hearing wouldn’t stop the verbal blows that her grandson lobbed at the huddled little lump of a girl who stared at him with wide and stunned eyes.

There was no sound from the child. There never was. Gladys wished that she could reach into Iris’s mind, and tell her that if she could just bring herself to answer, things would be all right.

I expect you to do as you’re told – and that means that you will answer me. Say it, brat. ‘Yes, Father Howie, I hear you.’” A car door slammed, and Gladys took as deep a breath as she could manage, in a futile attempt to prepare herself for the onslaught to come. She was thankful, at least, that she had had enough warning to take her medication – she shouldn’t be especially shaky. For some reason, Howard was always edgier, and far less pleasant, when her Parkinson’s was very evident.

There wasn’t a peep from the girl; she slipped out of the car, dark head bowed and shoulders hunched; and Gladys, watching them come, wished that she could still run outside, scoop the girl into her arms, and whirl her around in a dance, the way she had Howard, when Estella would dump him with her.

Then, she could whisper that as long as he was here with her, everything would be all right. There would be enough to eat, enough to do, enough hugs and kisses and laughter –

But she’d been wrong back then. It had been enough when he was here, but not enough to hold him through the long months and years of boarding and prep schools. And there was even less to give to this motherless little waif who had the manner of a puppy who’s been kicked its entire life.

She couldn’t make it all right that Iris had lost her mama- her ‘hahaoya’, whom she still called out for in the night. Those pitiful whimpered cries were the only time Gladys had ever heard the child speak; the only reason she knew Iris could speak.

If only she would speak to her stepfather, say the words he demanded…

Looking for cheerier WIPpet Snippets? Well, hop onto the little blue froggy; assorted genres, styles, lengths and moods of WIPpet lily-pads to choose from! =D