All The Happy Little Trees

I am appreciating the outdoors today and the sunshine, even though it’s pretty cold outside! It’s as if Bob Ross were here painting all his happy little trees…

Mike took this picture on our walk today. This up and down weather is taking its toll on the small streams and canals in the area. There’s been some flooding from blockages from ice floes.

I somehow caught pink-eye over the weekend; and the handle to my driver’s side door snapped off when I tried to open my frozen car door last night, but I am choosing to remain positive. Was actually a great triumph for me to laugh about it, instead of let my anxiety take over.

Plus, I’m inside and warm, and that always helps, too. Hope everyone has a great Sunday and keep safe out there!

Happy Writing all!

Magnetic Poetry: “Survival”

Nothing gets me down more than sickness, and I’ve had my fair share of it this past month. :/ Perhaps I was inspired by that…who knows.

wpid-img_20150205_110837576.jpgIt reads:

 

Smile and

eat life

and never wake

 

I hope everyone is staying warm and safe these winter months! We’ve certainly had our fair share of snow these past few weeks! And for those of you in warm weather: send it this way please!

Happy Writing!

 

Poetry: I can write haiku, can you?

It’s snowing outside, tiny flakes coming down from the sky in all directions, swirling chaotically around cars and the pavement outside my window.

View from my office window.

View from my office window.

Naturally this makes me want to write, of course. I don’t know what it is…maybe because it’s warm in our apartment, I woke up refreshed (finally) after a good nights sleep and I have the day off from work.

Maybe there’s something in the way that snowy sleepy days naturally put me in a thoughtful mood, and thoughtful moods generally lead to writing…if I were a painter, I’d paint the heck out of a glorious snowy day, but alas, the best brush I have, is the brush of words on blank, blank paper.

And of course, the last sentence I just wrote had me thinking about haiku poems. It’s been ages since I’ve written one…not since college three years ago. I found a refresher at this website, here.

(From the website:) The haiku is a Japanese verse in three lines.  Line one has 5 syllables, line 2 has 7 syllables and line three has 5 syllables. Haiku is a mood poem and it doesn’t use any metaphors or similes.

wpid-img_20141127_165052481.jpg

View of the moon and snowy trees at my Grandma’s house, the evening of Thanksgiving.

I don’t usually think of myself as a poet. My advance poetry teacher in college said to me once, “You are definitely a fiction writer.” And that seemed to cement the idea in my brain. He didn’t mean to say that I was inept at poetry, just that eventually all writers make a choice, and I am a lover of stories and so naturally fiction was my style of choice.

But lately, I am constantly reminded by poetry why writing descriptive, lyrical words are so important. Why some fiction is just poetry in an extended form. In a single poem, an image is created in just a few words. I think poetry is a great way to remind fiction writers how important it is to show, not tell what is happening in the story, but to focus on the concise, and descriptive words.

Here’s some haiku of my own. Some silly, some serious, some not really haiku poems at all, but all poetry:

The bright yellow sun shines

through icicles hanging

on the windowsill

 

 

icicles remind

us to mind the cold weather

bundle up you beasts

 

 

dogs don’t like the snow

wagging their tails between gusts

shivering snow and wind

 

 

the snow swirls around the pavement

children walk by with parents

hands howling in their gloves

 

 

So much depends upon a red wheelbarrow…

(Just kidding! haha…can’t get this poem out of my head for some reason! For those that don’t know this is the start of a poem, “The Red Wheelbarrow,” by William Carlos Williams. I remember there were those that either loved it or hated it in my poetry class. There was a great debate that followed about it.)

And lastly, another haiku of my own:

 

The dead of winter

snow falls down on black pavement

eat lunch, eat sunlight

This has been a lot of fun for me this afternoon. Feel free to comment with your own, if you like!

Happy Writing!

15 Minute Journaling: Hot and Cold

Author’s Note:

Thanks all for the comments on Friday post, I haven’t decided what I’ll post that day, but I am leaning towards some kind of continuation story. Couldn’t think of what to post tonight, so went to the writing prompt app on my phone and came up with this post. Who knows, maybe it’ll be a story idea for later. 🙂 Hope everyone is having a great night!

Happy writing!


 

Writing Prompt # 34: You are at a restaurant when someone you know shows up. They make their distaste for you evident to the people you are with.

I was on a date with my boyfriend. I got the fried chicken with mashed potatoes. The potatoes were good, but the chicken was a bit dry and stringy. I chewed on a forkfull as I watched the steak wander around in my boyfriend’s mouth. Maybe we’d been too quick to make things official, I guess I didn’t realize how narrow his face was, how his mouth looked like a duck when he chewed. I choked on the bite of food in my mouth as I saw a body appear next to his left shoulder. I saw a bright pink scarf and followed it up to a bright, shiny face, and pink lipstick. Her face literally shown, like a Angel’s, I’d forgotten the way her blond hair framed her face, the way her blonde curls bounced and curved next to her upper lip. The place where I had kissed her freckles dozens of times.

“Jewel, God,” I choked on my chicken as Andrew glanced up at her standing behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“I might say the same to you,” she said with that pucker of her pink mouth. I never understood how she managed to be so sweet and so mean at the same time.

I stirred potatoes around on my plate, mushed them into soggy green beans. “I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Oh, I think you know,” she said.

Andrew glanced up at her, eyes narrowed. “Have we met before?”

“Andrew, this is Jewel. She’s an…old friend of mine,” I said.

“Ex-girlfriend,” she clarified, with a hand on her hip. I tried to hold back my laughter as Andrew choked on a his water.

I tried my sweetest smile. “Did I forget to mention her, sweetie?”

His duck mouth pursed with obvious distaste. “I think we ought to go home. Are you finished?”

I looked sadly down at my chicken. “It tasted like shoe anyway.”

Jewel was standing there silent during our exchange. As we got up, she gave me this look. It was a look that lasted a second, but felt like a lifetime for me. “We should talk,” she said.

I pulled on my coat, as Andrew stood there, his eyes dark. “Later,” I murmured.

“Are you ready yet?” said Andrew.

I gave him a dark look. It was cold outside, negative two degrees last time I checked. It was a kind of cold that really did bite at the extremities. If my boyfriend was sending out chills, Jewel’s expression was warm. Probably warmer than it should have been, given the situation. I didn’t know what to make of that.

“Later,” I murmured again, as her eyes followed me out the door. I brushed my hair out of my eyes and sighed. “Later.”

It was a comfort knowing I would no longer be talking to my myself anymore.