Monthly Archives: October 2017

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 29 October 2017

When…I’m old enough…I get that promotion…I’ve saved a bit more money…I lose weight…the kids finish school…the stars align…the light turns green…the time is right…I get that job…I retire…I finally get that degree…I’ve proven myself…the coast is clear…I’ve got nothing to lose…I have more time…I get lucky…I’m ready…tomorrow comes…

Excuses, excuses! Dreams have a way of slipping away. Because life…and excuses. Life scribbles nonsense on our beautiful clean slate when we are young. We forget, we give up, we settle.

But dreams don’t die generally. They’re still in there. It’s never too late. Dreams realized don’t necessarily need to come with the fame and fortune of our youthful idealized aspirations.

Sometimes all it takes is a willingness to just do that thing you dreamed of. Sing if you’ve always wanted to sing…alone…in the shower..in the car. Take that class, not with that piece of paper at the end in mind, but for the joy of learning. Cook like a gourmet. Travel…even if it’s to the town next door. Experience it’s hidden treasures. Every place has them. Paint, take beautiful photographs, learn to fly! And if you’re like me be a writer. Fill journals, notebooks or a blog, with beautiful words; even if no one reads them but you. It will change your life. It is life…beautiful…hovering…waiting to be lived!

Have a wonderful week of dreams realized. You deserve it!

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 29 October 2017

she’s in there somewhere

breath of life, thick

not silly…look
rouged red, lipstick-stained teeth,
longing to be touched
impenetrable
so tell me, who’s smarter?
when will this end?
this dark night of souls
embracing all of life
beautiful life hovering

~kat

A shi sai or ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the shi sai features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week


Magnetic Poetry Saturday

between green and
blue, gentle breezes,
wind, rain, thick
clouds, roses, sweet
in the air, birdsong,
light and shade…
beautiful life hovering

broken angel
smiling
breathing…she’s a
dazzling dancer
melting into joy
embracing all of life
from her heart

~kat

A few Magnetic poems today…happy Autumn!


Preta & Guisard – Friday’s AND Saturday’s Words of the Day

I missed posting yesterday’s word of the day, but as a bonus, today you shall have two lovely words to wrap your brain around! Friday’s word, Preta, a noun from Hindu Mythology meaning a wandering or disturbed ghost. And Saturday’s word, Guisard, a noun the means a person who wears a mask; mummer.

Given the season and impending dark night of all souls hallow, I thought it would be fitting to combine the two in a Haiku. Here’s a bit of history on the two from Dictionary.com:


Preta finds its origins In Sanskrit where e is a long vowel ( it is also transliterated as ē). Hindi grammarians correctly analyzed e as a monophthong replacing an earlier dipthong ai; thus the Sanskrit adjective preta, “gone before, deceased” is from an earlier form, ‘praita’, formed from the adverb and prefix ‘pra’ – “forth” and ‘ita’ – “gone”. Pra- is cognate with the Latin and Greek prepositions and prefixes, ‘prō’/‘pró’ (Greek) and ‘prae’, all of them meaning “before; in front of”. The Sanskrit participle ‘ita’ corresponds exactly with the Latin ‘itum’, past participle is the verb ‘īre’, “to go” and the Greek verbal adjective ‘itós’ “passable”, all from the Proto-Indi-European root ‘ei’, ‘i’ -“to go”. Preta entered English in the early 19th century. From wictionary we learn that: a Preta is a hungry ghost (a supernatural being in Buddhist folklore, the spirit of a greedy person whose divine retribution is to never be sated). How many a weary folk has woken to the first day of November the victim of mischievous antics of Pretas whose quest for sweets was not sated, in the form of TP garlands and raw egg peltings?!


And then there is Guisard, a Scottish and North English word. The first part of the word, guise, in Scotland and northern England means “to appear or go in disguise.” The suffix -ard, occasionally spelled -art, is now used mostly in a pejorative sense for someone who does something habitually or excessively, e.g., drunkard, braggart. Guisard entered English in the 17th century. Soon comes Halloween, when greedy, giddy guisards roam the streets, banging on doors, declaring their mantra, “trick or treat”. A wise somebody will appease these mummers by offering them the sweets they crave lest they transform into scary pretas with a vendetta to settle!

It’s all in good fun of course! An annual ritual that hearkens to an age when the veil between the living and the dead was not quite as pronounced. Our ancestors solemnly remembered and honored the dead more formally; gone but definitely not forgotten. Today we passingly engage this annual ritual in sport, sending our costumed children to the streets for a night of innocent begging. But the thinness of the veil is still there, souls lurking in the shadows, which adds to the drama of this dark, dark time.

These days, I must admit I turn my porch light out, not because I don’t enjoy the onslaught of tiny ghouls and gremlins, but because they terrify my fury housemates. We sit in darkness to the sound of potter-pattering feet outside our door…and entertain the lore of my ancestors, setting a place of honor at my table for loved ones passed. Sometimes I light a candle…or two or three to let them know I remember. I feel their presence ever so near. It could very well be my imagination, but there is something to this ancient dark night of all souls. Something indeed!

this dark night of souls
comes guisards begging for treats
pretas in the mist

~kat


Sunnyside

“Matilda, my darling girl, you would have loved it here,” he mused as he watched the sun set at river’s edge.

The familiar voices of old friends, Crane, Knickerbocker, Van Winkle, whispered to him from the mist. “Ah, Van Winkle,” he chuckled, “I concur. It is time, indeed, for a long nap.”

The old man leaned on his cane as he ambled to the house, uttering his final words, “Well, I must arrange my pillows for another night. When will this end?”

They would lay him to rest at Sleepy Hollow; the man known as Jonathan Oldstyle, Geoffrey Crayon…Washington Irving.

~kat

100 Words for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers Flash Fiction Challenge, inspired by the photo above by Roger Bultot.

…the rest of the story

Imagine my surprise when I opened the photo and google map popped up on my screen plopping it on the east side of the Hudson River, North of New York City. After zooming in I imagined this could very well have been the view from Washington Irving’s beloved Sunnyside home in Tarrytown on the Hudson. The Matilda referenced in my story is the name of his fiancé who died from tuberculosis at the age of 17. Some believe it was grief, as well as seeking treatment for his own health issues, that launched him across the pond where he would spend decades. He remained a bachelor to his dying day.

Of course, after discovering all of this, I knew I must write about this iconic author, historian and diplomat. If you would like to learn more about Irving, Wikipedia gives a nice summary of his life and works.


Smart as a…

‘Good boy…bad boy…come…sit…lay down…stay’. Humans are so adorable. They think they’re in control when I roll over, fetch, or give them a “high four”…five, if you count my dew claw.

While they’re working to ensure my comfortable lifestyle, I nap. This is the life!

So tell me, who’s smarter? Man or beast?

~kat

52 Words for Sacha’s Writespiration 52 Weeks, 52 Words Challenge. The Prompt: Write your 52 words from the perspective of an animal.