welcome readers & writers! in this cyber space please find: + a photo writing prompt + a place to post your creative writing response (poem, memoir, short story or the like) to the prompt + a community of readers and fellow writers excited to read your writing + morsels of genuine fiction, poetry & creative non-fiction as the blog is updated. share a response as often as you'd like. everyday discoveries from my life, captured on film, will serve as prompts. this is not a place where we will critique one another's work; however, words of encouragement or praise for writers who share their work are most welcome. writers, share your story, poem or creative non-fiction response to the photo by clicking on comments; word count is flexible. cheers! demery

Friday, October 22, 2010

fall break

gone fishin'
back nov.1
feel free to look around
and read
or write on earlier photos


  1. Have fun!! Catch some big ones. And come back with some fish tales. :)

  2. A propos nothing at all, airing out a new poem.

    I am having a relationship with my hunger
    it's my bro, my sibling, siblings, lover, partner.
    It puts me at one with a billion or more other human
    beings on a planet named by its inhabitants
    which makes me wonder what we will call
    the people on the first one we find with
    people. Indians? Beetlejuicians? Suppose
    they call themselves Humans because they named
    their planet Hume which in their
    language means Home so Humans means
    they live at home? But I'm neglecting
    my hunger.
    In fact it's not something easily done
    neglecting one's hunger. Easier than for most
    of my compatriots in hunger because mine
    is a luxury I practice for the feel of it
    the experience, and most of them do it
    as a condition of living. So I at least know
    enough to call myself and all of them hungry.
    Not hungrians, Hungrians would have been born in
    Ooops. It's probable most of them were; I
    wasn't. My hunger and I share things. It
    doesn't understand me. It knows I love it because
    I could make it leave with ease but never do. I
    ease it some, nibble. But it's always present
    has been now for eight or nine whole weeks.
    I'd like to share it with some friends, have
    a banquet, serve one grain of rice,
    uncooked. Ask a dozen of my closest friends
    to share it, my hunger. It doesn't want to be shared. It
    wants me and me alone to satisfy it. But
    I don't. My hunger thinks that I'm perverse.
    I agree. It's perverted to encourage, practice
    hunger. There are worse perversions, of course,
    worse turnings from the proper, the correct.
    And yet it works. I use my hunger just as
    Scrooge used cold - it's a discipline that
    encourages discipline - it keeps away some pain.
    When one practices hunger instead of seeking food
    one's focus must attend not eating very now
    and then. Else one eats. That may be true as well
    when it's a condition of life, else one eats sand, bark,
    self, others. It's so much easier as a discipline
    don't you know. If one is to prosper, live for one's wishes,
    live on one's breathe, one must discipline one's self
    one's hungers.
    I have a relationship with my hunger. We embrace each
    other. It respects me for keeping it in comfort. I love
    my hunger. My hunger loves not me.
    CHUCK GALLE 2010

  3. Sitting on the edge of the pond, I couldn't help but feel lost. My feet dangled into the water and made useless ripples. The wind touched my face and played with my hair. The sun warmed my arms and neck. Small fish lazed past my toes. Time dribbled by and by. I can't even call it waiting. I sat. Perhaps someday, soon I think, I will stand up and walk somewhere else in this world. But today I have no energy for this. All I can see is before me. Wanting and zeal are absent. Then the damn fish bit my toe! Ok, I pulled out my cell phone and called my good friend and cussed her out, prodded her... provoked her, I hope, and begged her to trudge forward... hell, run, sprint, sing! This world is better for her passion and inspiration flowing like a river. Not resting like a pond.

  4. A Note I Sent On FaceBook Today

    So Kevin, who owns Dents r Us out on Lafayette Road has been keeping me in safe and well maintained cars now for six, seven years. He is competent to whatever the superlative of competent is. And he's got something very rare in this business he's in - integrity. He has character, he is honest. You learn you can believe him and trust him. He's refreshing in that regard.
    Lemme tell you why I'm tooting a horn for him. I been trying to call him for a couple days now - yep, it's true, he's not good about returning calls, you maybe know an auto mechanic who is? - and I got him today at 11 AM. "How the hell are ya, Kevin?" I says in my almost sarcastic best.
    "Not good, actually." he says.
    "Damn, you even sound not good. " says I, speaking the whole voiced truth, "What's up?"
    "Well, actually, I had a heart attack yesterday."
    "Uh, Kevin what the f__k are you doing there, why aren't you in hospital?"
    "I walked out of the hospital this morning. They can't tell anything until they catheterize me later on, and I got three cars here gotta be by today, so I came in to get them out."
    "Uh, Kevin, you can't continue to give us all such great service if you are f__kin' DEAD!!" I say in my calmest most persuasive voice. I hear a little sound on the other end I recognize as a grown man keeping the fact he's weeping out his voice.
    "I'm going back at one o'clock, Chuck."
    See, that's why I've been taking cars to Kevin for six, seven years now.