Category Archives: Essays

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 4 June 2017

There is little one can say the morning after another round of hate-filled violence. When one of us suffers, we all do, be it at the hands of terrorists or nature herself as she burns and heaves from our neglect and abuse. Blessings and peace to our friends in the UK.

Certain oligarchs may try to separate our nation from the world community, but they do not speak for the majority of us who watch in horror and disgust at their reckless and greedy actions. It’s not important to name him and his ilk. We have seen the likes of them before.

History has proved us resilient in times like these. In our ignorance and refusal to heed the warnings from the past, we may find ourselves doomed to repeat it. But I do cling to the hope that just as our ancestors were able to turn the tide eventually, we too will be able to right the course we are on.

There is still so much goodness and joy in this world. When sorrow looms, remember that we are here because those of good will before us pressed on.

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 4 June 2017

darkest of times
was it reincarnation
she teases her clueless guests
just beyond the lattice weave
like the yin and yang
it was much too soon
but the tempest has no power over memories that emerge in the hearts of those left behind
sinkers dipped in morning brew
how the gullible gobble up lies
vile cesspools called sinkers
we can wish
for healing
we are prisoners
again, we mourn

~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.


Sinker ~ Friday’s Word of the Day Haiku


Happy Friday! Today’s word of the day at dictionary.com is “Sinker”. It’s a fun word. It’s one of those words with several meanings:

1. a weight used to sink a fishing line or sounding line.

2. BASEBALL a pitch that drops markedly as it nears home plate.

3. a type of windsurfing board of insufficient buoyancy to support a person unless moving fast.

4. US a doughnut.

5. A cesspool.

6. a (silver) dollar

7. a person or thing that sinks.

8. a person employed in sinking, as one who sinks shafts.

from Dictionary.com  and the Fine dictionary.

And you might also be familiar with the idiom, “Hook, Line and Sinker”, a fishing term that incorporates three essential pieces of fishing tackle in angling. Also, in English language, the phrase ‘to swallow something “hook, line and sinker” ‘ is an idiomatic expression to describe a situation where a person or group accepts wholesale and uncritically an idea or set of beliefs. (From Wikipedia) .

There isn’t a whole lot to say about its etymology. It is a very popular word with several spikes in usage through time based on its application. It pretty much means what it implies in all of its incarnations…something that sinks, as in drops or dips low. I have a few Haiku for you today. Have a great weekend!

underground stinkers
vile cesspools called sinkers
an oligarch’s den

hook, line and sinker
how the gullible gobble up lies
of a deceiver

sweetens the palate
sinkers dipped in morning brew
AKA donuts

~kat


The Crucible

This week Rochelle gave us a rather bleak photo prompt for her Friday Fictioneers challenge. I ruminated over it for a day, fighting my first impression; one of heartache, loss and destruction because, quite frankly, I am weary of of reality this week. Every day small fragile men find new ways to trample on the things we hold dear. Today, not content to destroy just our nation, our horrible leader took steps to ravage the earth our home. So I needed a bit of hope.

PHOTO PROMPT © KARUNA


The Crucible

The massive brush fires expanded their reach into neighboring homes licking at their foundations before ravaging the stick frames that held them together. Fire doesn’t discriminate once it contorts into its frenzied surge, consuming furniture, clothing, family photos and other treasures.

Precious though they may once have been, they are dross, but the tempest has no power over memories that emerge in the hearts of those left behind.

Memories remain, cherished all the more by living survivors who realize while sifting through the ashes, that they, and those that they love, are the greatest treasure of all.

~kat
(97 Words)


Twittering Tale #32 – 30 May 2017


About the challenge: Each Tuesday I will provide a prompt, and your mission, if you choose to play along, is to tell a story based on that prompt in 140 characters or less. If you accept the challenge, be sure to let me know in the comments with a link to your tale.

A final note: if you need help tracking the number of characters in your story, there is a nifty online tool that will count for you at charactercountonline.com.

I will do a roundup each Tuesday, along with providing us a new prompt. Have Fun!

Twittering Tale #31 – The Round-Up:

From Michael at Morpethroad:

His last day was Thursday. He never liked Thursdays.
Pension day was weirdo day.
Odd people and odd kids.
He prayed they stayed home.
(130 Characters)

From Kitty at Kitty’s Verses:

Call of duty, or a sick grandson he’ll attend to? But for now all he wanted was a cuppa coffee to give his over working brains a rest.
(134 Characters)

From Lorraine at In 25 Words More or Less:

Jim rode the escalator to the march and rally staging area. Nervously, scanned a large rowdy crowd. Found his marching mates: Save. Social.
(139 Characters)

From Di at Pensitivity101:

Some people always over-reacted.
All this fuss over a bloody mouse in the basement!
(82 characters)

From Through My Heart Web/Soul Connection:

Dreamt a beautiful retired life,but reality hit me hard.I will stand once again.People think oldies are useless.Here I am proving all wrong. 
(140 Characters)

From Reena at ReInventions:

Son! Date the girl you love amidst nature, for true bonding and heart-warming conversations. I’ve seen underbellies of malls n multiplexes….
(140 characters)

From Kathryn at Another Foodie Blogger:

Once again he drew the short straw. Once again he found himself the first riding down the elevator to investigate the mysterious black bag.
(139 Characters)

From Willow at Willowdot21:

The quiet was deafening, unlike last night. The screams the blood the fear. The worst had happened. The world sickened him. He felt so sad.
( 139 characters )

From Peter at Peter’s Ponderings:

Lucky Luke. He’s been fully employed all his life. Retired now, he volunteers at the National Escalator Museum. Life has its ups and downs!
(139 characters)

From Jane at Jane Dougherty Writes:

Just don’t look round, old man and you’ll never know what hit you. Or that the bomber had an accomplice and he never left the building.
(135 Characters)

From Kirst at Kirst Writes:

Harry was too old to run. He could only watch from the escalator. His voice shaking, he radioed for back-up. Dear God, let them hurry.
(135 characters)

And my tweet:

Some retirement! After 40 years, all he got was a gold watch and a “good luck.” But he felt useful and it was better than bagging groceries.
(140 Characters)

Well done everyone! I am afraid this prompt was a bit more timely than I had anticipated when I selected the photo. What a nightmarish world we live in. Your tales reflected this. The terror, sadness, fear and frustration. My thoughts, as I am certain, yours, are with all who suffered loss this past week. 

Thank you for your words. I believe the words of writers and poets help us to release the pain, frustration and sorrow in these troubling times. What a gift you gave us this week in your tiny tales.

I feel the need to switch things up a bit. This week’s photo prompt is, at first glance, a close-up of a common house fly. Or is it? Perhaps it is some alien being…or a mad experiment gone awry…or General of the Fly on the Wall Brigade collecting intel for the allies…or a devil looming with a hoard of others…or is it just a common pest creeping too close to someone’s picnic lunch. Once again, many possibilities for this wonderful photo from photographer, Virvoreanu-Laurentiu on Pixabay.com.

Have fun with this one. I’ll see you all at next week’s Round-up!

Twittering Tale #32 – 30 May 2017


The Telltale Fly

Was it reincarnation? The way the fly stared at her gave her chills. 

John? She asked, as she smacked him wth the swatter to off him a second time.
(140 Characters)

-kat


Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 28 May 2017


Happy Sunday! I am enjoying a long weekend away from the hustle and bustle of work. There is a saying, “We live for the weekends.” It’s a sad saying, don’t you think? It implies that there is something wrong with weekdays; something less than about them in our minds.

Yes, I get the gist of it. Weekdays are the days we toil to survive, so that when we clock out on Fridays we have our own time to savor the fruits of our labor.

We jam our weekends full of activities that we don’t have time for during the week. We play. We visit friends and loved ones. We have parties. We take lazy afternoons naps. We spend time in nature, sun on our face, grass or sand between our toes. We wear our comfortable clothes. We recharge so we can do it all again; the toiling. It’s a never-ending cycle. Some would say, a rut. But that is life.

An average lifetime of 80 years is 4171 weeks. That’s 4171 weekends. That’s only 200,228 hours. In a world of millions, billions, and trillions. It is a speck. It hardly seems enough. It’s not. Especially when we dismiss the other five days of the week as less than. As days we must toil through so that we can “live” for two.

As I reflect on this week’s ReVerse I am reminded that a day is a day is a day. Mondays are not horrible task-mastering beasts. Tuesdays are not extensions, the lesser beasts of Monday. There is no hump, no pinnacle defining moment about Wednesdays, and Thursdays are not 11th hour, line drives into finish, to Fridays. There is nothing magical about Fridays. Or weekends for that matter.

This realization, this eureka moment buys me back a bit more time if I recognize that each moment counts. 29200 days, 700800 hours, 42,048,000 minutes, 2,522,880,000 seconds. Aside from the fact that by buying into the myth of weekends, I have squandered so many of those moments, it is still not enough. Here on the cusp of my 61st year I have maybe 599184000 moments left, give or take, which means I have a bit of catching up to do if I’m going to live for each moment, not just the weekend.

But the good news for me, for all of us, is that if we pay attention, if we are present in the moment at hand, it can hold a lifetime’s worth of blessings. Good things do come in small packages. I finally understand eternity. It is not looking back eons with the regrets that loom, it’s not looking forward, as we tend to do when we think of eternity, as something unreachable “out there”. No. Eternity is NOW exploding in all directions, brilliant and breathtaking. I need only remind myself to breathe and I am there.

Have a wonderful week!

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 28 May 2017

what are you doing
better than bagging groceries
that says, “love of mine, remember me”, the dark, the light, fierce honesty, authenticity.
it has potential
acting out as an adult years later,
conspirators cackling
fools seek miracles
Inspirations, oft’ Kitschy,
wide eyes and windows
she gave her head
they want your freedom
…quiet it all by filling your
head with daydreams

~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.