cycle

welcome, readers & writers! thank you for your contributions and comments last week. it gives me comfort to traverse the rough terrain of this life together.

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this week's photo prompt bids welcome to spring. short story, poem or creative non-fiction ~ writers, come write with me... click on comments below to share. readers, your comments are also most welcome. here's my spin (ha!) on the photo:

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Peter pedaled patiently up and down the length of his street, from second avenue all the way to fifty-first, where Highway 33 made it impossible for him to cross. He made the loop a dozen times a day now, despite the fact that Evie worried about him. Oh, she clucked on about how his new recumbent bicycle was too low, how it was barely taller than their grandson's tricycle, how he was going to get rolled over one day by a harried mother in a minivan or a businessman on his blue-tooth, blazing off to a meeting. Peter just smiled and kissed her forehead and promised her again that he was watching, that he wasn't a toddler on the loose, but a bonafide grown-up.  Eighty years old now. His eyesight was great. His scar was healing.  He'd tossed that blasted heart pillow out with the trash last week. He was determined not to waste a moment of the time that his insurance company and his doctor's Harvard degree had bestowed upon him. Excercise. Rest. Low sodium diet. Hell, if he didn't have dentures now he'd even be up for flossing. Twice a day. That's how serious he was about this. 

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Evie didn't know it yet, but he had a mind to ride in the Senior Sprint at the end of the summer. Sixty miles. It would suck up a lot of time to get ready for a race like that. Time away from his wife. Time not spent with his grandkids. But, and he didn't know how to explain this to them without sounding like a simpering school girl, riding his bike made him feel like a boy again. With the wind in his ears anyway, his hearing loss didn't matter, didn't even exist. When he rode past honeysuckle trees and lilac bushes, when the wind blew his hair back off his forehead, when he pumped his legs hard and threw them back for a quick stop, he was ten again. At the beginning of the long, winding tunnel and not heading for that confounded light. On his bike the world was new and he had thousands of days left to enjoy it.  

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heartbreak

welcome, readers & writers.

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today my heart is heavy with the heartbreak of the planet... for our world neighbors in Japan, for the unrest across the middle east, for the struggles that folks in our own country are facing each day. so let's write about it ~ poems, stories or reflections of solidarity and hope. click on comments below to join me. also, in case you're thinking of making a donation for relief efforts in Japan but don't know where, here's a link to an organization we really trust: erd (Episcopal Relief & Development).

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the world has shifted on its axis, so they say

how can it not, under the monstrous burden of sorrow it bears?

the earth falters and buckles 

oceans of salty tears storm the shore, innocent and clumsy  

how can water bend steel? break life? 

search. mourn. remove rubble. be. die inside. rest. be again. emerge. try.

the only hope i see today is the mystery of heaven

an island of peace in a golden sea of forever

where they wait, in the know

where they wait with love

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frisson

welcome, readers & writers! 

my new posting schedule is simple:  mondays. do feel free to come back through the week and read what others have written, or to add another installment to your story, poem or creative non-fiction reflection on the photo :) over the summer i should be able to pick it up again, but for now i'm chained to my computer in other ways that don't involve creative writing - boo hoo!!! i am excited, however, about finally becoming an elementary school teacher hopefully sometime in the near future.

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i'm thrilled today to welcome a guest photographer and writer, Mr. Chuck Galle. Chuck, an actor and writer, has been a steady contributor to write away every day, and i'm glad to call him my writing friend. ahhh the wonder of the internet to be able to introduce friends across thousands of miles! Chuck has a book out, Stories I Never Told My Daughter which, at this very moment is winging its way from amazon to my house in Texas.  it's been in my shopping cart for a few months now, and i can't wait to read it, finally!! Click here to visit Chuck's blog & website. thank you, Chuck, for such a lovely and intriguing photo and for it's written companion. I'll be back later in the week to write about the photo myself - I'm already feeling inspired! see below for Chuck's spin on his photo:

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So, what else would you do with a camera in hand, waiting for someone, wandering around in the atrium of the Institute of Contemporary Art with its new Wall Of Mirrors just put up last week, and the only person there is also trying to find how to handle this eye feast with her camera? We acknowledged each other, then set about our unique visions. Since there were only we two we couldn't help trying to not be the follower of the other, nor impose some competitiveness in our quests, picking "the" right angle. And yet, we found ourselves trading off each other's ideas. There was no flirting, perhaps she was waiting for someone also, but our exercises kept generating a bit of frisson here, a bit there. And then my friend showed up. The other photographer and I had jostled ourselves into the positions where we were obviously going to catch each taking each, but we both saw the potential at the same time. Joanne stepped across the floor, and serendipitously a guy, who turned out to be who the other photographer was waiting for came around the corner from the entrance and we both caught each other; I caught her directly and, along with my friend and hers in the mirror and she caught all three of us in the mirror she was aimed it. Voila!