The Unweaving Of It All -A Poem

I can’t sleep tonight.  So I’m looking through some old poems and working through them.  Some poems are more important to me than others.  Here is one I think I’ve now completed.  It was originally written in 2004 – it was a sonnet then.  I think I’m satisfied with it now.

The Unweaving Of It All

Because the brush of time and space
has swept its soothing smoothing
strokes upon the raveled fringes
between what was and now
means not that I don’t sometimes dwell
in long forgotten shadowed realms.
I do return
to glimpse once more discordant themes
in frequent fitful states of slumber.


Somewhat Prepared for Something or Other – Journal Entry

Oh.  My.  Gawd.   A year or so ago I left my car unlocked and, of course, that was the night thieves decided to patrol our outdoor parking lot.  There wasn’t anything exciting in my car, but they pretty much took anything that looked interesting.  Like the baggie with my insurance and car registration in it, and the sealed box in my trunk.

I was shocked that someone would take the box containing our emergency preparation items!    Food and water for two for three days.  I guess they thought it was some expensive Amazon order I’d left in my trunk.  Well tarp them😛

We’ve managed to collect, once again, food and water for three or four days.  Another sleeping bag.  Tarot cards.  The Bible.   A set of  Runes I made long ago. A rosary.  A  satchel of knitting .  A change of clothes.  Some sort of battery thing that will let us use our laptops to let people know we are okay.  Copies of important papers and all that crapola.   And – gasp – pajamas!

I might throw a can of Spam in there just to feel like I’m in Louisiana, still, and preparing for a hurricane.

I don’t want to put all this in my car again so we’ve put it in the rolling basket we use when we walk to the grocery:

Me:  I guess I should roll this to the front door every night?

You:   But why?

Me:  In case we can’t get to the study to get it.

You:  If we can’t get to the study, we won’t need it.

Me:  Oh thank you for that positive thought!

Now I’m exhausted.  But I feel like we really accomplished something grown-up.


Notes To My Horribly Disorganized Self

So I’m not sure if anyone remembers that a few weeks ago I wrote that I was hoping to buckle down with my writing – maybe get that book of flash fiction mirroring poetry going at last.  That’s been a goal of mine for several years – to expand the poem.

And so, I’ve done that here on WordPress – more or less and it’s pretty effin scary how many finished poems and stories I’ve put up here.

I have all this sorted out through 2014, but not moving forward.  In two weeks, I’ll have three days a week to work on this.  It’s good I’ll have time to do these busy parts of the process.

Right now I’m transferring all of my poetry and fiction (from my blog) into some sort of export file.  Last time I did this was late 2014.  Oh dear.  I will not panic.  I can handle this gathering and sorting of papers.  I used to be an excellent secretary.

I just have to remember to breathe.

Now I’m on to read other stories and blogs🙂


Fossils – Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  Thanks to{{ PJ }}for hosting this weekly challenge.  please follow little froggy for more stories.

Here is the photo and my story…what a fantastic photo!


Once a week, Polly and I met for lunch at Syd’s Deli & Market. We both loved sardine sandwiches.

We were legal secretaries for opposing  firms. That didn’t matter, though. We’d dated each others’ boyfriends, watched each others’ kids and, eventually, married each others’ husbands. And, when our husbands died, we just kept meeting for lunch once a week, at Syd’s Deli & Market.

That’s why it’s so hard to know where to begin this story. Does one start with the boyfriends or the kids or the divorces and remarriages, or the losses for which there are no words?


This week’s photo prompt is provided by Louise with The Storyteller’s Abode. Thank you Louise!

Upon Reading: A Pre-Review

pencil-drawing-416438_640I don’t usually do book reviews here… but I shall, soon, do such a review on Behind Closed Doors by  B.A. Paris.  So far, horrible.  I’m screaming/moaning so much you’d  think I would do best not to continue.  But I will.  Reading something I just can’t stand suits the premise of this adolescent book.  Sigh.

Author goes by the name of B.A. Paris.  So far,  I wouldn’t use my full name either.


image via pixabay