Posted tagged ‘manicddaily’

Blogger’s Quandary/Pearl Losing Enthusiasm

March 19, 2012

I used to be able to rely on Pearl writing for me.

She did a great job.

Though the transcribing was kind of a pain.

I woke up to a bloggers’ quandary today.

I actually started this blog primarily to popularize (and sell) my books!   (At the moment, there are three– comic novel, NOSE DIVE,  book of poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, or children’s counting book 1 MISSISSIPPI. )

But pretty soon, blogging took on a life of its own–a life which has kind of crowded out not only the selling of books but the writing of them.

For a while I could rely on Pearl to write the books–but Pearl, like me, is getting old.  And blind.  And tired.  And her writing can be a real b—- to transcribe.

The problem is that it’s a bit lonely to write books and very very lonely to try to get people to read them.  While blogging is communal.  And being part of a community is fun.  And inspiring.

And yet, well, Pearl–that is, Pearl and I–really enjoy book writing, at least in principal.

So, what is to be done?

(Other than teaching Pearl to type. )

Hmmmm…..

Mag 109 – “Post-Mechanics” (What he had wanted was to be a Satyr)

March 18, 2012

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The above and below are based on a photo prompt posted by Tess Kincaid of Magpie Tales.  The original photograph is by Robert and Shana Parkeharrison.

Post-Mechanics

What he had wanted
was to be a satyr, a muscle mass
of chest and tendril, unreconstructed
curve–hair, vine, thigh, scrotum-
blip of nipple, smile, wink-
but no–there had to be a
Newton, as in Sir Isaac, a Newton,
as in a unit of force, and urges
were transmuted to
ergs, curves
turning diametrical, bolts
having to be tightened, gears
meshed, and getting caught
in the cross-hairs
wasn’t nearly so much fun
any more, everything
screwed up but
good.

At The Ends Of Fairy Tales (Worse-than-stubbed-toes)

March 17, 2012

At the Ends of Fairy Tales

Birds nearly always pluck out the bad girls’ eyes
while toes are cut away to accommodate
(somewhat bloody) dainty shoes.  No surprise
that in the drawn-from-the-thrown-bone world, fate
demands retribution; the happily-
ever-after happier in the here
and now with a side of vengeance snappily
dished out. (‘And, for you, Stepmother Dear,
how ‘bout a barrel of nails, a handy
hill?’)  For, in truth (forsooth), bliss that will last
is difficult to depict–all candy
we’ve ever known melts upon first taste, fast
forwards to decay, while the sudden woes
of others engrave our brains (like those lost toes).

(The above is a poem for the dVerse Poets Pub Poetics challenge, relating to fairy tales.  Check out the site!)

Friday 55 – “In the Wake”

March 16, 2012

In the Wake

Birds watch
child; sand reflects
child; clouds shine
on child, waves calm
for child; day itself takes
care, finding
its inner adult, in the
hope (perhaps) that what
will be born
in that sparkle of foam
will not be a full-blown
goddess, but simply
love, a child lost
in finding, a child
concentrating
in light.

(It’s late, but it’s Friday and it’s 55 words – tell it to the G-man.)

Filling in the Gaps (“Old Poems/Kids In the Sea”)

March 15, 2012

(Imagine Pen and Sunset)

Charles Miller is hosting a prompt at dVerse Poets Pub about writing what’s behind the poem.  Here are some of my somewhat disjointed thoughts:

Old Poems/Kids in the Sea

So, I used to rely on the sonnet,
and yes, it scares me to see them out there,
bobbing up and diving down, the wet
glisten of shoulder at high surf, where
I lost all my breath trying to swim back
this morning, my lungs shot from who knows what
(waves tugging at what seemed to be chest’s crack)–
I found that a form would anchor words, not
tie, give meaning a lane, a buoying up–
choppy out, sun setting rust, still I know
they’re strong, try to sing as I wade about,
salt cupped–fearful, I needed a flow
that followed a channel; I relied on
the sonnet; they splash to shore, free, prideful.

(In keeping with the exercise, I should probably note that I wrote this poem, more or less, at the beach, watching my kids – or those I was responsible for–swimming very far out.  Also it is a sonnet, of sorts–this, a form I used to write quite frequently.)

Nice Family Visit (Game Night) (With Elephants)

March 14, 2012

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“Screened (Mid-Sixties)”

March 13, 2012

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Screened (Mid-Sixties)

It looked, from the peaceful pictures,
like the land of the hand-held scythe,
what with the impossibly green gatherings
of ankle-short stalk so gently bordered
by palm and vine,
till the choppers swept the frames
like combines, their great blades
threshing a beat that thwapped
to the other side of the world, even of our
TV screen, where we fought
over the only truly comfy chair, its
thick sag re-shaping to each
as required, the rest of us
stretching out on the living room rug
rather than take a straightback.

We watched, silent beneath that thwap,
the jewel shag of paddy turn
to a blurred-stained-brown, the sweating lens
become a windshield wiped
by blades of chopping/chopped, fogged
by non-monsoon cloud and
napalm drizzle, vibration only clipped
by shouts of Charlie, shots
of GI, the stretch of sagging legs,
boots notched at elbows–the air
seemed to be sucked from us too
by the rotary vacuum, though, of course,
that was not the case; we could change
the channel, turn off
the TV, pretend
that what we’d seen
had absolutely nothing
to do with us there, in our living room;
we could fight again
about our only truly comfy
chair.

I am posting the above poem for dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night.  (For dVerse devotees, it was the poem I wrote last weekend thinking that the poetics prompt would relate to going back anywhere in time, not specifically 1999!)   And if you are not a dVerse devotee, become one!  Check out the site.

And while you are at it, check out my comic novel,NOSE DIVE,  book of poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, or children’s counting book 1 MISSISSIPPI. )  NOSE DIVE is a lot of fun and a great bargain on Kindle for 99 cents, only a bit more in print.  K.

Love Among The Shadows (slightly skewed to the right)

March 12, 2012

“Villanelle to Glasses”

March 11, 2012

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Another week beginning, and here’s a new picture prompt from Tess Kincaid of Magpie Tales.  The real photograph by Uzengia Aleksander Nedic  is somewhat blurry;  my version (not blurry enough) is above, and my poem below.  I am also linking this poem to “Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads” for their Monday Open Link Day.

Villanelle to Glasses

Without glasses, the edges of my world are furred
like the ending of an echo, crush of shale.
Ideas are seen as if through water, blurred,

trooping muzzily through head, not shaped by word,
as if mind’s eye can’t make out thought’s detail
without glasses, the edges of my world so furred.

Then, too, I find my verbal memory’s slurred:
I’ll say this “peach” for onion, “kite” for sail;
ideas are seen as if through water, blurred,

and though I tell myself I’m quite absurd–
my mind’s still good, it’s only eyes that fail–
without glasses, the edges of my world are furred.

Even corrected vision’s not assured,
each type of lens its own peculiar jail,
where ideas are seen as if through water, blurred,

and I must make a choice between page or bird,
eternal grain of sand/horizon’s trail.
Without glasses, the edges of my world inferred, 
ideas are seen as if through water, blurred.

Have a nice (fully-lit and clear) Sunday.  And, if you get a chance, check out:  comic novel,NOSE DIVE,  book of poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, or children’s counting book 1 MISSISSIPPI. )

First Day Daylight Saving’s Time – New Found Benefit (in Nightgown with Black Velour Skirt)

March 11, 2012

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New found advantage of daily savings time:  dawn’s early light.

Okay, maybe not dawn, but closer than midday.

I’m not normally someone who will get up and out at even at 7:30 a.m. on a Sunday morning, much less 6:30.

Oh, I’ll talk about how renewing it would be, but then I’ll pull my comforter over my shoulder and snuggle deeper into that little (big) depression I’ve formed in the good old memory foam.

But today–aha!–profiting from that extra (or rather subtracted) hour–I was up and out.

Sure, I wasn’t quite able to get dressed–pulled my only long skirt (velour) over my nightgown, hiking boots over sleep socks, down jacket over the whole assortment.

But I was up!  And out!

And the light was blue and pale and fresh and kindly promising in just those ways of a somewhat earlier morning, and the coming day seemed eminently possible.

Hope yours is too.