Monthly Archives: May 2012

Logophiles Unite


Do you consider yourself a logophile – no, not a ‘legophile’ surrounded by a construction zone of plastic blocks, but a logophile – a lover of words?  There are some words I adore, most actually, but a few of them are jewels in the way they sound when spoken, look when written and even felt when absorbed in that place where language resonates.  I’ll share a few of mine if you’ll share a few of yours.

Dictionary definition of the word "communication" close-up











Of course these are but a drop in the giant ocean of language that I like to float around in. Please enlighten me with a few of your own – whether they’re nouns, verbs, adjectives, funny, sad, macabre. Maybe some of yours will become some of mine!

The ‘other’ World Series



Where do we go when there’s no one left to blame

Sitting in box seats

Ordering beer and brats,

(He smirks) there’s no one here to play the game


What if only for one second of the last day

you and I fell on our swords together –

the last of those with understanding, finally


grasping the secrets to it all, revealing nothing to the

masses who’ve cried out in vain to the cosmos, through

eons of a timeless reckoning – wouldn’t that be romantic?

(She smirks) the whole thing sounds rather lame…



really, it all comes down to circumstances – he’s not willing to change his

he’s not big on taking chances, even if it means his happiness

theirs was two roads that converged (detour sign must’ve been down)

theirs was the wind in a raging storm

neither was prepared for the lovin’,

sure as hell wasn’t prepared for the scorn

Versatility is Nice…

Standard It seems a couple of great fellas, Mike Schulenberg and M. G. Edwards,  think I’m deserving of The Versatile Blogger Award! I’m so not deserving but I’ll gladly accept and I thank you both for thinking of me!  As with other awards, there are rules to follow and I’ve just followed the first two: Thank the nominator(s) and link back to their blogs.

The next part is the hardest part:  Listing other bloggers to give this award to. Now, there seems to be a discrepancy in the number of bloggers to award. Some say 7, others 15 and, well, who really knows?  The list I made is a list of  bloggers I enjoy – Maybe they already have this award or don’t want it at all – in either case, their names are emboldened below for the world to see (I might be a little delusional over my following but I love each and every one).

1. Blue Lily Storm

2. My Body the City: The Secret Life of a Callgirl

3. Read Between the Minds

4. The Writing Aficionado

5. Inaffablemrjones

6. Lameboyofhamln

7. Brian Westbye

Finally, I’ve been tasked with telling 7 things about myself. I thought, hey, this won’t be hard but then I started wondering – What does anyone really want to know about me? I’ll give it a shot:

1. I live in a VERY rural area where it is possible to get a hair cut, go to the post office, run to the grocery store and be home within an hour. At said locations, it is likely one will see familiar or even the same faces at each stop.

2. My favorite flower is the peony. I absolutely think they are so beautiful! My least favorite flower is the traditional red rose.

3.  I love the city of Memphis. I lived downtown there for a while and enjoyed it immensely. It feels alive to me and very rhythmic.

4. I didn’t realize until later in life that I don’t mind snakes so much – even have a pet one named Bones.

5. I’d rather have empty journals to write in than jewelry to wear.

6. I regularly enjoy dark chocolate and eat it with popcorn and even in my oatmeal for breakfast (with peanut butter and a little sugar, naturally).

7. I’m so NOT a morning person – I should come with a warning label in this regard.

So, please feel free to share your favorite city, something you can’t live without or offer any random fact about yourself you’d like ‘the world’ to know…And thanks again to Mike Schulenberg and M.G. Edwards for being so kind to me…

Letters In My Head – Part 2


Occasionally, I like to write fictitious letters – Sound strange? Well I am sometimes, but I find it fun and entertaining and I hope you will, too. I have posted another one of these previously called “Letters in My Head, Now Available for Viewing”

                                                                                                                                                                 May 1968

Dear Effie,

I hope this letter finds in you in better spirits than you were during our last visit. I suppose as we age we all become a bit cantankerous, but I do hope you will try harder next time. After all, we chose to visit you instead of taking a real vacation.

As I told you at lunch the first day, we explained your pitiful situation to the children, being your age and alone in that big old house, and I have just never been prouder of these fine five boys of ours for being selfless enough to recognize how important it is to do these special things for you instead of doing what we want to do.

I know you will always cherish precious little Scotty’s mud handprints on the foyer wall. Those are the treasures and memories that will remind you of better days, the freedom of youth.  To think I thought you were serious when you got that old ping-pong paddle out and called it your “butt baton.”  You are such a jokester! The boys really thought that was funny, too. Good times, good laughs.

I was looking ahead at the calendar and I believe we could make a short trip of three or four days at Thanksgiving. That should give you more time to straighten the place up a bit. We found the mattress in your bedroom to be a bit stiff.  Oh and Michael would prefer the sofa to the recliner. He’s going to be a teenager soon and well, they are difficult to please sometimes. He thought you’d like the recliner better, too. Since it’s a few months away, you have time to make sure the refrigerator is well stocked. Oh, please remember my husband prefers cornbread dressing and not stuffing to go with the turkey. It’s these little reminders that I love helping you with my dear Aunt Effie and I know you appreciate my attention to details so our visit together is spent on the important things.

I must go for now. Do remember to send the payment for the broken camera. I realize you didn’t mean to forget to remind me not to leave it on the kitchen table for the boys to get a hold of, but I specifically asked you to help me with that. Oh, I almost feel bad about it knowing you’re getting more forgetful at your age. You must be at least 65 now, right? I’ll tell you what – only send $300 and we’ll both feel better about.

Your loving great niece,



Trudy (and Charlie with your precious great-great nephews Scotty, William, Everett, Jimmy and Michael)

P.S. Perhaps we’ll bring Rufus our wonder dog with us this fall! We’ll try really hard to get him housebroke before then.






(but it really isn’t funny, is it?)


Giver of decline –

    ample in your bosom,

where we rest


Solidifying your promises anew

Hiding secrets to be found out by the press…

–         If they choose to tell    –

You know they will, Oh hell

Now you’ve got some cleaning to do

Get a dust mop and broom?


Too big for those –

Spray the soiled landscape with a hose

Shhh – listen for the lies, bar the stench from your nose

Change his mind and hers and theirs

As simple as changing clothes

Get Lost…


What are you searching for? Come on, you’re searching for something aren’t you?

Me? Some days I’m just searching for a damn good cup of coffee. Other days I’m searching for an elusive line to a poem or trying to get some jumbled concept of a story idea on paper. It’s those days when I’m looking for myself that things get a little unsettling. What’s that? How could I be looking for someone whose skin I live in? Easy.

I get lost in memories, dreams I once had just out of my grasp, a place I’ve never seen but feel as though it’s there waiting for me…

I get lost in music, the words of a simple lyric grabbing my very soul, shaking my core, leaving me lonely and in pain. I’d like to find that songwriter…

I get lost in art – some image that’s captured a private moment of someone’s thoughts or feelings, now on display, naked for us all to see…

I get lost in emotion, maybe mine or perhaps a feeling transferred to me through the eyes of another in the briefest glance. I didn’t ask them for it…


After all this losing, this going off track into places other than the right now I have to find my way back. It is then, in that journey back to now, that I make some discovery, have an epiphany, figure something out that I hadn’t understood before.

Sure, some people have a great capacity for linear thought. They can look at a situation, see clearly the beginning, the middle and the end, finding their way down a straight path and come back with GPS precision. Not me. I was one of those students in school that excelled in both the literary arts and science. My mind is a mash of analytical thought combined with the need to explore the emotional state of being, creatively determine the outcome through both cautious reason and wild irrationality. My right brain and left brain tend to collide at times. Now you see why I get lost.

It’s in the finding my way back from these various rabbit holes that I learn something…usually.

How about you? Do you ever let yourself get lost in thought, music, creativity? Do you enjoy it or do you fight it? Anything special you learn in the process? Please share – maybe we can get lost together…

All Good Things…



You have no lover to love you.

You have no heart to give away and only the memories of ‘what was’ plague your mind.

Drink liquid freedom and allow the numbness to come; escape the sorrow.

Follow the path to mindless perseverance of truth…Quiet giggles of innocence from a dark corner – it really is funny, how you thought he needed you.

Foolish girl.

The nest of a dying owl holds secrets of life we can never learn – some bullshit about wisdom.


And then she got it – the difference between ‘want’ and ‘need.’

We aren’t stupid – only blind and only because we choose to be. The heart is a beacon to those who wish to break it – move on, else place your foot on my neck and press…

Paper Flowers


Sometimes I need a creative boost, especially if I find myself in a slump or I’m procrastinating over re-writes of a story. At these times, I look outside of writing for inspiration. I might listen to music and do nothing else. I might get outside and work in my flowerbeds, feeling the earth between my fingers. Or, I might feed my crafty artistic side. When I allow myself the time to get away from my notebooks and work with my hands in a way that doesn’t involve holding a pen or pencil, I feel renewed.

Last week I got an idea – I started envisioning large paper flowers on canvas but had no idea where to start but since Mother’s Day was approaching I decided to just go with it.  Turns out, I really enjoy paper sculpting and painting.

The photos show the results – and the good thing is, the moms liked their gifts!



With hands of love, she comforts. With lips of love, she gives. With inspiration from the heavens, she shows us how to live…


So what do you guys do when you need a creative boost?  How do you find inspiration? And I hope all of you celebrating Mother’s Day today had a wonderful one….

Kaleidoscope of Human Pursuit


Where do some of our thoughts come from as writers? I probably don’t want the answer, especially when they are dark thoughts. I still allow them to come, flow out onto the paper. What does it say about me? I’ve come to the conclusion that in facing darkness I conquer it. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. The following are a few words that poured out – they have meaning to me. I understand the implication of every line in the scattered way that a sloppy desk makes sense to someone who loves organized chaos.  Feel free to share your thoughts.



Restless but weary, seeking wisdom from an empty well – how can he know when he finds it if he doesn’t know what he’s looking for?

And you, what do you offer with a top hat of tricks like a bad magician with a broken wand? Go ahead, have your fun but don’t forget the consequences. They linger on the wind, following the cheap fragrance you wear.

We are all rattled by broken promises, the overt dereliction of duties and falsified evidences, displayed for the masses, blind to Truth. Send a child to offer a whisper  – they are more likely to hear the voice of innocence than the shouts of a million willing mouths. Are bound hands capable of reach? The worthless have value unknown to greed.

Wrestle your forsaken conscience to the ground and see who stands the victor.

I’m an unholy one to offer these thoughts, living in the fringe of all that has been lost to goodness. I am that consequence that tears at rotten flesh, looking for a meal of utter abandonment. Let go of your fears and grab onto mine, and we shall inspire one another.