Category Archives: Essays

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 16 September 2018

Hello from soggy SW Virginia where the gray sky is hanging low, heavy with rain. We have seen a few surges of Florence’s bands. A tease of more to come. She’s a a femme fatale having claimed a dozen or so souls during her unwelcome visit to the south. Now her shadow looms at our door. Her intermittent tears flowing ever so lightly as if she wishes to convince us that she is not the heartless tempest others say she is.

We are not buying it though, as waves of fearful hosts strip the market shelves of batteries, bottled water and the ever popular milk and bread. Candles poised to spend their wicks in the darkness wait expectingly on mantels for their moment to shine. We are ready or not for her here in the valley; for raging downpours to saturate the mountains whose soil is already swollen from record breaking summer rains. It is expected that our shallow basins and sleepy rivers will fill to the brim or more between now and Tuesday when Florence exits to the north.

Such is the lot we have wrought with our ignorant glut for convenience and our unfettered exploitation of natural resources, expelling our noxious waste into the atmosphere, tearing asunder the fragile layer of protective ozone, causing the seas to simmer, the polar ices to melt, the shores to diminish and storms to swell in angry protest. We who survive must never forget the role we play in this drama and vow to do better; to tiptoe through life leaving nary a footprint. It’s the least we can do for our mother, nature, who blesses us with so much. It is the least we can do. But, for now, we wait for the storm to pass.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 16 September 2018

perfection can’t be perfected
the wind passes through
life in its magnificence
wanting, wanting more,
for only the now truly matters
morsel by sugar-sweet morsel
but I don’t want to keep you
bellowing counter-clockwise
unfulfilled, denouement,
with no rebuttal, no debate
provoking fear, unlucky
blue sky lull, sleepy denial
if you say so dear
…shallow roots clinging

~kat

A 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 ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Sunday’s Week in Reverse – 9 September 2018

It’s just words. Sticks and stones…but words…oh yes, words, silly words, how they bless, affirm, empower, indict, illuminate, question, and reveal the very heart and core of us. A slip of the tongue can show us who someone really is. A stroke of the pen, when scrolled in earnest, with excruciating honesty can prick our hearts and move our souls.

I am a writer. I write what I know and feel and am. If not with transparency, then, why bother. Oh I dip my toe into fiction every now and again, but if you read between the lines, I am there, pouring out the words that manifest in my head begging, sometimes screaming to be said. It is no use second guessing the words, razor edged, poignant, magnificent, that must be said. Too much? Too soon? Too revealing? To scathing? Too real? The moment I start censoring myself is the moment I cease to become me. And no one is suggesting that. Well, some are, but I say to those naysayers, be damned.

It’s just words…indeed! Words are everything I’ve learned. Beautiful excruciating words. And I am a writer above all other labels and titles; above all the roles assigned to me: daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, executive assistant, activist, friend. If you really want to know me, read my words. The painful, the snarky, the funny, the heartfelt musings, whisperings. They are not just words. They are everything. They will not be silenced. I will not be silenced. I am a writer.


Sunday’s Week in Reverse – 9 September 2018

down, down, behind the lace arbor
I am a writer
should be obvious
whoever said “blondes have fun” lied
celebrate those who toil
you can be strong
take care not to linger there
oh god
we’re in for bad weather
crank the cogs to squeeze out a dime
close your eyes now
global warming’s a hoax
right…there is no unless
soul whisperers who bear witness
in a spirit of love
desire for what could be

~kat

A 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 ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


September Poem #8

poet
weaver of words
mastering rhymes and meters
soul whisperers who bear witness
silence is not golden

~kat

Continuing the Pensée this month. I really like the syllable count of this obscure little form: 2-4-7-8-6, as well as the theme suggestions:
line 1 is the subject;
line 2 gives description;
line 3, action;
line 4, the setting;
line 5, final thought.

It is also interesting to note the definition and etymology from Britannica.com of the word pensée, which no doubt was inspiration for this form:

Pensée, (French: literally, “thought”) a thought expressed in literary form. A pensée can be short and in a specific form, such as an aphorism or epigram, or it can be as long as a paragraph or a page. The term originated with French mathematician and philosopher Blaise Pascal, whose Pensées (1670) was a collection of some 800 to 1,000 notes and manuscript fragments expressing his religious beliefs. The form was particularly popular in French literature, as in Denis Diderot’s Pensées philosophiques (1746).

Now you know the rest of the story. And I have found one more reason to love this poetry form even more! 😊


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 2 September 2018

Today’s ReVerse speaks to me of resilience and perseverance. In looking back at my ancestors last month I realize that my cells are informed by all who came before me, the strong, the weak, the resourceful, the creative, the curious and curiouser still. People who lived and died here. Who likely never gave me a second thought; never imagined the children and children’s children who would come after them. And I am sure they would be amazed at our modern life and technology.

As different as life in the 21st century may be, some things are the same. Our common humanity, things like love and family, faith and a sense of awe in our natural surroundings are links that bind us all. I cannot imagine the impossible wonders that the future holds for those whose lives will sprout from my family tree years, centuries from now. Life is a gift that keeps on giving.

Have a great week!


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 2 September 2018

I AM FIERCE / i am terrified
well-spring of life, informing cells that make me, me
to those who dare dip from her shallow well
hum of longing, knowing, still
humble selflessness
a crown of crimson petals
the worst was yet to come
evil can’t sustain a never-ending terror reign
but her bitterest arch rival was, in fact, a Valkyrie
again I am surprised to find more royalty
reminds me I’m the sum of many parts
I guess it’s time to get down to business then
there’s a subtle shift
on the prowl, terrorizing
deep peace through the darkest of nights
life overcoming

~kat

A 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 ReVerse features the works of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over a period time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Twittering Tale #99 – 28 August 2018

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About the challenge: Each Tuesday I will provide a photo prompt. Your mission, if you choose to accept the challenge, is to tell a story in 280 characters or less. When you write your tale, 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 a new prompt. And if for some reason I missed your entry in the Roundup, as I have occasionally done, please let me know. I want to be sure to include your tale.

Finally, have fun!

And REMEMBER…you have 280 characters (spaces and punctuation included), to tell your tale…and a week to do it. I can’t wait to see what you create this week.


Twittering Tales #98 – The Roundup

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Starting us off…

It seemed to be the perfect hiding place. The thief lowered the satchel of cash into the sewer drain. He would retrieve it later.
Then the rains came. Days of rain. The sewers overflowed into the streets.
When the thief returned for his booty, a group of detectives was waiting.
~kat
277 Characters

From Reena at ReInventions:
Who forgot to place the lid?
What will emerge now –  a deep secret, a can of worms, reverse flooding? It will be fodder to Peeping Toms and Idle Minds. Curiosity makes you a business target.
I guess it was a deliberate move. Some people feed on dirt, and make money out of it.
(274 characters)

From Michael at Morpethroad:
The Dot
The dot had been there a long time.
One time the council had redone the path which meant under protest from the locals the dot had been ripped up.
Strangely the next day the dot was back.
Was it alien?
Was it a sign from on high.
Either way, you got a right jolt if you stood on it.
(280 characters)

From Willow at WillowDot21:
More Things That Go Bump in the Night
Marly watched as the drain cover opened. A man, or was it a woman emerged. The whatever it was did not seem happy. Cocking his head to one side Marly wagged his tail hoping that would endear him. Gabriel was not to be won over though. Satan’s laugh could be heard in the distance.
(280 characters)

From World of Wellness:
A Tale of 2 Cities
Susie hailing from Texas had just completed the worlds longest underground drain pipe exploration. She was thrilled to find herself in London.
She was upset that the media had ignored this adventure of hers. It is not often that a cockroach survives a transcontinental exploration!!
character count: 279

From Cara at Midnight Musings:
Cherry was horrified at the thought in her mind. If she put Myron out the airlock, she would be free forever of his threats. They were the only two living beings on the spacecraft; there was no jury to convict her.
“But I’d know, and living with it would drive me mad,” she mused.

From Peter at Peter’s Pondering:
The Rose grower’s curse
I’ve got it again, I’m fed up!
What’s the matter now?
That horrible disease that spoiled all my roses last year is back again!
I thought you sprayed them, and cut back the worst affected.
I did, but just look. It’s on every rose and has even spread to the pavement.
Bloody black spot!
(279 characters)

From Fandango at This, That, and the Other:
Hiding Place
Jack looked at the storm drain, at the narrow gap between the sidewalk and the street. He saw an orange glow, but there was no flickering, so Jack eliminated a sewer fire.
He walked over, squatted, and peered inside the gap. He was surprised to see Donald Trump hiding down there.
(279 characters)

From The Dark Netizen:
The Drain
He walked silently in the darkness.
Having memorized the location of the drain, he found it easily. Once the lights came back on, they would find him. He slipped the packet into the drain and quickly walked away. He was caught soon.
He would die, but the resistance would live on.
Character Count: 279

From Deepa at Sync With Deep:
Corporate Sewer
I’m dreaming of
a clear water stream,
greenery kissing the earth,
songs of birds in the fresh air,
a serene place to live.

concrete and steel
replaced the trees
corporate sewer line
covered the natural stream
noise of vehicles
ousted the song of birds
my lungs now, frantically looking
for fresh air!
(246 characters)

From Anurag at Jagahdilmein:
The Hiding Hole
The sewer was safe now, there were no more rats left there. But THEY didn’t know that, and so this was the safest place for him.
He opened the manhole cover, and got in.
Then, he started playing his pipe again, and as the kids followed him underground meekly, he shut the cover.
278 characters.

From Deb at Twenty Four:
He had set his chair on the sidewalk and waiting,
His patience was renown.
He watched as they passed by,
Consumed by thoughts of their own.
He hadn’t expected a long wait,
And his wasn’t disappointed.
She tripped and fell on the eve of the first day,
He filed the lawsuit when appointed.
(280 characters)

From Piyali at Piyali’s Blogs
The Secret Cult
After stepping on the asphalt, the hitchhiker quickly combed through the deserted area and paced down the sidewalk. On reaching the spot, he checked the contents in his satchel-vials of blood, a human skull, and some ancient manuscripts.
“Hail Satan!” A voice cried from the sewer
279 Characters

From Amritha at Igniting Hope:
Inside the Tunnel
“Food reserves are adequate. There is a connection between these tunnels in case of emergency”, boomed the army chief as the rat army was ready for war. A deaf rat got caught in the enemy’s trap in lure of cheese.
“Oh I cannot move on without my grandfather”, rued little Stuart.
280 characters

From Jan at Strange Goings On in the Shed:
GPS
What do you mean the GPS gave the wrong directions!
Look, those are the co-ordinates.
We’re in a sewer, and something’s touching my tentacles.
Just be thankful we didn’t go into a black hole.
We did. You should have checked the map beforehand.
There was no need.
Are we there yet?
No!
(277 characters)


Good ones this week everyone. As always, thank you so much for taking the time to tweet a tale. We are at week 99! Can you believe it? I surely can’t. That is a lot of tweeting…and a lot of tales told. Though I wouldn’t even presume to assume that, even combined, our tales could ever rival the twittering tales that come from a certain reality star gone political who shall remain nameless! haha!

I headed back to pixabay for this week’s photo by Conquero. It could be a dream or a nightmare. Or it could be a tale about a horse. You decide. I’ll see you at the roundup…yeehaw!


Twittering Tale #99 – 28 August 2018

 

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Prompt photo by Conquero at Pixabay.com

 

It was 8.3 on the Richter scale. The town had never experienced an earthquake. Fracking had rendered the bedrock unstable. Aftershocks sent herds of wild horses and other animals through the center of town. The worst was yet to come. No one would live to tell, when the dam broke.

~kat

(280 Characters)