As You Wish – A Poem and Some Prose

I have lots going on inside my mind right now.   Come Friday night, I will finally have the opportunity to  be a full-time writer.  It’s sort of a good feeling and sort of a scary one, too.  Different parts of me are attempting to communicate.  I probably have to have some sort of dialogue with each of those parts to determine a path.    Maybe something somewhat overly imagined – like this poem – and then toned down a tad or not.  Maybe I’ll begin with a short story from this poem.  I think a short story can be like 1000 words or so.

As You Wish

She told me
she told him

~ you can’t stand the sound of my voice?
You think imma communicate with you by passing notes?
Or maybe you just don’t wanna communicate
with me
at all.
If you can’t stand the sound of my voice
you won’t hear it
cuz I’m not about
to recite any love poems ~

and then we ordered
more coffee and chocolate croissants


That Lost Sense of Direction – Journal Entry

hippie-932791_640Oh my goodness!  Your bro doesn’t know how to get to the reunion lodge.  Your Beverly Hills niece has two tweenies and ‘the day has slipped away, can you buy my food stuffs’, thingy going on tonight 😛

I think it’s sorta cute.  Being from the South (and Catholic), I can’t understand how it can be so complicated to bring 12 adults and 5 kids together for a weekend.

Now you’re on the phone.  You’re giving directions to avoid the two horrible fires.  Sigh.

I keep telling myself that it’s okay  for us to have this reunion when two horrible forest fires are taking place between your brothers and yourself.  I keep reminding myself that I’m from New Orleans and that we get on with life during the hurricane season…and all…

It’s so much easier to accept the ravages of Mother Nature than those of terrorists.    If one is at all lucky, one can outsmart Mother Nature. That’s just how I feel.

Of course, more when I return.  Totally loverly 


Just On The Tip Of My Tongue – Fiction

Just a piece of while-washing-the-dishes-prose:

Just On The Tip Of My Tongue

cat-1461372_640It was like that spirit, come again, from way back when remember? Come to lift me up and away. Cradling me and cooing that old song, now just on the tip of my tongue.

Our cat is licking away the tears on my cheeks and cooing gently. Her private cooing. On a higher realm than purring.

You are there, too, somewhere close wondering – I guess – what more you can do other than kiss me and murmur something insane about love.

And then, whatever it was passes. I sense everything and everyone around me. In my mind, we purr with our cat. The sun is shining. This is what one must do. Get on with it.


photo via pixabay

The Internet & All That Jazz – April A-Z (I)


The Internet & All That Jazz

😦  i’m sorry i can’t be here so much right now.  my broken arm is really upsetting so many levels of our life.   over supper and champagne, we recall the importance of the letter ‘I’ in our lives.  Our faces ache from smiling.

My arm doesn’t hurt.   I’ve come to record this…

We’ve been married 15 years now.  You 10 years after a 17 yr marriage and me a few years after a 25-year marriage …others we’d met and dated since we were ‘suddenly single’, but…  what drew us to each other was our refusal to give up on love.

i was almost 50.  i was living in the new orleans french quarter.  louisiana.  i’d lived there, or near there since the day i was born.  you were 60.  you lived in palo alto, ca, and grew up in los angeles, ca.

sometimes, the world is so much smaller than one could ever imagine.  sometimes the heart’s hopeful whisper aches for attention.

our introductory internet text conversation:

me:  (after discovering what was proper to ask) so what do you do?

you:  i’m a nuclear physicist.

me:  (oh brother, yeah…right)  you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to have a conversation with me.

you:  (just as though you hadn’t noticed my slight)  what do you do?

me:  (this probably won’t go over so well but here goes) i’m a poet and a  secretary.

and here we are…15 years later.  married.  who we said we were…seeking the softer ground of acceptance – just like any other married couple…i think, anywayz.


image via pixabay

Laissez les bons temps rouler!!!

When there isn’t a myth that suits your needs, by all means create one. (Ellespeth)

Today is Mardi Gras. Where I live now, it’s simply Tuesday. There aren’t any throngs of people yelling and singing and waking me up at the crack of dawn because they decided not to go home the night before. No. That was the first 50 years of my life. And here I am now, in Silicon Valley…sitting in my living room thinking about how fantastic it would be if everyone, in Mountain View, put on a costume and pranced around down El Camino Avenue on Fat Tuesday. And kids would have their faces painted and eat unhealthy corn dogs on a stick and cotton candy. Adults would drink milk punch laced with brandy 🙂 How fun!

We made milk punch this afternoon and gumbo for supper and listened to the sound track from Cabaret. I made an old-fashioned banana cream pie for dessert.

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday. The beginning of Lent.  40 days of sort of fasting.  I’m going to burn a smudge stick tomorrow and tap the ashes into a special bowl and smudge them across our foreheads and our palms. “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” (Genesis 3:19)

It’s not midnight yet though so…Laissez les bons temps rouler!!! (Let the good times roll!!)


I’m Pretending To Be Fine – prose to be poem notes

In a week you will be gone a week.  I’m not going.  I still refuse to travel more than 50 well-known miles from home.  I really don’t like it when you insist upon driving 5 hours on some crazy California interstate and then back home again.

Anyone still following me from when you FLEW ON AN AIRPLANE to Copenhagen or camped out in the mountains and all those other awful times you’ve been so courageous?

You’ve delayed your trip for a week because you weren’t feeling well.  That’s turned out to be a good thing.  I don’t think I could have gone through experiencing all of my emotions about Paris without you here with me.

I’ve done a lot of traveling in my lifetime.  Experienced different cultures.  Experienced more rock and country concerts than I can count on 6 hands and never felt threatened.

I’m glad I decided not to have children.  The world wasn’t any better 40 years (or more) ago than it is now.  People were just better at pretending.


When It Was Cold As Hell – Fiction

Here is my entry for the current word prompt from Literary Lion.  The word is “ICE’.  Drop by Literary Lion for more entries.

When It Was Cold As Hell

Letter to New Orleans from Montreal,  Winter 1998

Dear Mother ~

Yes, it’s cold here. It’s in the negatives. Snow and ice and cold and drab. Not a nice welcome for a Southerner.

I’m not sure when Fernando will return from Portugal. He certainly won’t fly back here in this sort of weather. No, Mother, he’s not spending this time with his ex-wife in Toronto. I took your advice and called his parents’ home in Portugal . Luckily for him and unluckily for you, he was there.

I wish you would just be happy for me. Happy that I love and am loved again. If you must be unhappy, be unhappy because we are having an ice storm and I was unable to renew my passport in time to travel.

Fernando really is a wonderful person – even though I met him on the internet.

Love and many kisses !

Diary entry
Montreal, February 1998

Dear Diary ~

I can’t stand it when Mother is right. Fernando really is a wonderful person. He’s just not the wonderful person I want to live with for the rest of my life. I’m so glad we haven’t married, yet.

Well, let’s put it this way..,he doesn’t live in a city I want to live in for the rest of my life. I never imagined that hating a bit of ice and snow and all things cold could end our love affair. Who thinks of such things in the heat of the moment?

As ever,

Letter from New Orleans to Montreal, May 1998

Dear Fernando ~

I’m glad the snow has melted at last. It’s hotter than the hinges of hell here.

We tried our best.

Forever your sandpiper friend,


After Dark – Fiction

Time for this week’s Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers.   It begins anew each Wednesday.   100-150 words more or less to do with   the photo below  (photo changes each week).  I’ll put the link to this week’s stories at the end of this piece. Pass on by – click on the froggy at the end of this story.

Wow!  It’s hard to believe that this is week 17:)  Thanks  to PJ for hosting this for us each week, and all her hard work on our behalf.


After Dark

What was I doing? 50-year-old women don’t just take off and leave everything behind. Family. Friends. Job. Even if they are divorced, 50-year-old women just don’t do that sort of thing. So what was I doing?

We’d met online. You’d told me you were a nuclear physicist. I’d replied you didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to have a conversation with me. I’d told you I was a poet.

The first thing I liked about you – when we finally met in real life – was your screen saver program. An aquarium on your desktop! I’d never seen anything like that before. But then, I was using duct tape to keep my modem inside my laptop.

I must have fallen asleep reading my diary. It fell to the floor,  and you picked it up.

“Don’t even consider reading that,”  I warned.

You handed me the notebook and pointed to your name on the cover. “What do you write about in there?”

I looked at you out the corner of my eye.   “Screen savers.”


This week’s prompt photo is supplied to us by Sonya O. Thank you Sonya!