Prompt Writes 2/8/10: love

When someone I love is gone

When someone I love is no longer here

an empty rocking chair

I don’t want to comb my hair

Making the bed can be a chore

When someone I love is no more.

And trying to stop crying

Lying on the floor

When someone I love is gone

Eyes sagging from a night, awake through the dawn

When someone I love is gone.

How can the world go on?

Yet it does,

And so do I-

But my breathing is shallower

For awhile

And the hollow in my heart is reflected in my eyes.

Others hurt just to look at me.

But at some point I realize that

even in darkness, the moon still reflects light from someone else’s day.

Others need me to be here-

To hear them,

To play,

To love them at least as much as I love that someone who is no longer here.

And I must bear witness to all that my someone is missing.

Prompt: breath

Lungs inhale first breath
and a baby's cry of life
confounds the silence.



Inspired by the thoughtful weekly haiku meme Haiku Bones.

#201 Message (Sunday Scribblings prompt)

From the wonderful writing prompt of "message" from Sunday Scribblings. Apologies to Ohioans everywhere- it just came out this way.

God Made More Than Ohio

God made more than just your eyes.

God made mine as well.

Have you not wondered for a blink

What is made for other eyes to see?

Over 6 billion pairs out there,

if we only count our middling selves.

Eyes which watch sunrise over banyan trees

Or sunset over frozen ice floes

Eyes that read text from right to left

Eyes that will never drink in the Ohio River.

No pair can capture it all.

What is out of the frame of your reference?

What lies beyond each eye’s lens?

Eyes offered glimpses of the infinite,

Up to each pair to interpret.

Every grain of sand, every stone, every mountain carries a message within; not all are meant for you.

Yet other eyes will struggle to decipher their meaning.

Can you allow for that in Ohio?

That uncertainty? The awe of never knowing the terrible beauty which awaits others?

The Player

I thought I'd landed a boyfriend after, shall we say, one overzealous night in a dorm. Problem was, my best friend thought she had a boyfriend too- the same guy. Turns out, she had been 'cavorting' with The Player on the sly for over two weeks by the time I confided in her about my hot lovin'. We were shocked to realize that The Player had fed us both the same lines- and cheesy ones at that. Suddenly we saw the potential for some good old fashioned, unbridled revenge.

That night we went out with a group of friends, including The Player. We stayed cool. We both knew he was a drunk, so we bided our time, refilling his cup. The minute he passed out, we grabbed some shaving cream and a razor and removed his eyebrows. Well, at least parts of his eyebrows. None of our dude friends came to his aid; in fact, they were highly amused. But three other giggling lady friends stepped up and took a turn with the razor. The Player had trouble playin' for a long time after, but we ladies never got played again.

(I wrote this hoping to win a copy of Suzanne Young's The Naughty List, out in stores today. Check out the giveaway on Holly Cupala's fabulous blog!)

A Con, of A Degree

My father's new boss sat across from me at our family dining table one night. We were supposedly "entertaining" him. My father regaled Mr. Ballance ("call me 'Spence'") with jokes. My mother served baked chicken casserole as if our very lives depended on each noodle. My job? Wine detail.

I was 16, naturally blonde, and mature in all the right places. Mini skirts were 'in'. While my parents whisked dishes and crumbs off the table and into the kitchen, I did my duty.

"More wine, Mr. Ballance?"
"Please, call me 'Spence.'"
"More wine, 'Spence?'"
"You bet."

While I poured, 'Spence' grabbed my arm and pulled me improperly close to his middle-aged manhood. Wine was spilled.

"You know what's funny about this whole job thing?" He wasn't really asking me. He was using me as a rhetorical sounding board, no doubt arousing himself in the process. "What's funny is that I was hired for my PhD in civil engineering from Stanford. But you know what?"

I didn't know what, so I stayed still.

"You know what?" he repeated. I shook my head. No.

"I don't even have a high school diploma! I've been working in the biz for 20 years now- successfully, I might add- and no one's ever bothered to check the credentials I've listed on my resume."

I smiled my best conspiratorial smile at the Smartest Man in the Room. Then I poured him the rest of the bottle.

Once Spence left, I relayed his evil villain monologue to my parents. (Being a teen girl, I neglected to mention the groping.) My father laughed so hard he was in tears.

"He's got moxy, I'll give him that!"

My mother just smiled and shook her head- no moxy in our household.

Good old 'Spence' owns that company now. My dad, on the other hand, was laid off 20 long years ago.

Some people are untouchable, I swear.

Prompt Writes 2/1/10: 'bud'

Little Bud

Little bud on the branch

Though there’s not a leaf in sight,

I can see you, tiny bud

Coming out to face the light.

Little bud on the branch

I so hope I can assume

That though rain pounds you relentlessly,

Your tree will surely bloom.