Category Archives: Social Issues

Toward the Light  

  

how she presses toward the light
though her feet are rooted deep
how she presses toward the light
past the edge while others sleep
walls cannot contain her here
though her feet are rooted deep
tossed by tempests, numb with fear
resisting every urge to hide
walls cannot contain her here
now she sees the other side
breaks free from the shuttered throng
resisting every urge to hide
proving the naysayers wrong
darkness thwarted in the end
breaks free from the shuttered throng
even roots must stretch and bend
how she presses toward the light
darkness thwarted in the end
how she presses toward the light

kat ~ 23 October 2016
(A Terzanelle)


Twittering Tales #1 ~ 17 October 2016


I love flash fiction, six word stories, three line tales and 100 word stories. These minimalist formats have helped me learn the art of telling stories without a lot of unneeded fluff. As they say, “Just the facts ma’am.” 😊

These days Twitter is all the rage, literally. We pop off loud (all caps), mean, obnoxious, inflammatory rants. Fortunately, the Twitter “powers that be” had the wisdom to limit us to 140 characters. Thank you Twitter goddesses!

As one who loves a good challenge, I thought, what if we tried to tell a story in only 140 characters, prompted by a photo or painting? Wouldn’t that be fun?

So, here is my 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 atcharactercountonline.com.

I will do a round up each Tuesday, along with providing us  a new prompt.

To get this challenge started here is today’s prompt:


And here’s my twitter tale:

It was a grim sight. The first victims of the plague had turned to stone, ghosts who held too tightly to the past, now doomed to repeat it.

kat ~ 17 October 2016
(139 Characters)

The rest of the story…a bit of background on today’s prompt:

I found this intriguing photo, taken by Marczoutendijk, at wikimedia commons. The bronze sculpture, by Peter Nagelkerkein, was unveiled in Nuenen Park in the Netherlands, despite the vehement protests of residents who considered it ugly. Interestingly, the painting that inspired the sculpture, called “The Potato Eaters” by Vincent Van Gogh, also met with resistance  when it was unveiled. Seen as rough, dark and ugly, many believed it veered too far from the brighter impressionistic genre of the day.  Van Gogh would later write to his sister, saying that he considered this piece, his first official painting, to be his best work.

Obviously, my story has nothing to do with peasants or potatoes. But that is the beauty of art. It’s that “eye of the beholder” thing. So, what do you see? 🤓


Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse ~ 16 October 2016

I am so grateful for today, for this day of rest, for the beautiful blue sky blushed gold by the sun, for the cool snap of autumn in the breeze.

How I wish I could pull blankets up to my chin, stretching my feet to the end of my bed where the sheets are soft and cool and just stay here. I’d like to turn it all off…the cacophony of insults, lies, malice and discontent. The ugly sight of the world imploding all around me. Just for a day.

At least in looking back at the words that managed to spill from my brain I can sense that there is hope. I’m going to hold that thought as I head back into the fray this coming week.

There is still and always hope.

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse ~ 16 October 2016

I grieve for the leaf who’ll never reach home
(You don’t want to blend completely.)
I suppose the end justifies the means
a little hope is all
I was just thinking.
those who persevere
bien que nous cacher au monde
though we hide from the world
it’s not mutable
we can depend on this truth
a handful of us will always believe
as if they could quiet
her beautiful pure spirit,
the treatment involves your heart.

~ kat

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The Shi Sai, (formerly known as a ReVerse) is a new form I came up with during Poetry Month in April 2016. I’ve actually been writing shu sai for years but was inspired to give it a proper name. It is a poem created by taking one line of verse from several poems of an author’s own collection. The shi sai is done as a review of a series or collection of poems and therefore, each line should flow in chronological order of the dates the poems were written (from oldest to new). The lines chosen should be the author’s favorite from each poem. This form works best if the author resists the temptation to read the full new poem before all the verses have been added. (It helps one to resist the impulse to change a line to make it “fit”.


AMA


“Just tell me Doc. After all we’ve been through, I can take it.”

“I’m so sorry America. We thought the cancer was in remission, but I’m afraid it is back and it appears to have metastasized.”

“What does that mean? Is there anything we can do?”

“Well America, it’s very serious. I can’t know for certain until we do more tests, but your symptoms of late indicate that the cancer is affecting your brain. Your ability to reason will continue to fade. You will cease to remember lessons from the past. It is very likely that you will begin to hallucinate…to see things things that aren’t there, to believe things that aren’t true. Left untreated, it is quite possible that you may resort to violent outbursts, especially when you feel threatened by others that don’t see what you’re seeing or believe what you’ve come to believe. You might even lash out at those who love you most. You will be overcome by irrational fear causing you to isolate yourself more and more.”

“Oh Doc, is there nothing we can do? We beat this thing once, or at least we thought we did. This time seems so much worse than the last time.’

“Well America, there is one course we can try. It’s experimental and controversial but I can assure you that if we take aggressive action now we might at least save your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Yes America, it has come to that.”

“Well do it Doc. Whatever it takes. What’s next?”

“We must be swift, decisive and focused, but I do believe there is hope. The treatment involves your heart, America. It needs to be opened up completely, softened and allowed to bleed out.”

“That sounds too extreme. Won’t that kill me?”

“No America. It’s the only way to remove the cancer. Do you trust me?”

“And if we don’t do this, how long do I have?”

“Less than a month America. I’m afraid if we don’t treat this aggressively now, you will lose the battle this time.”

“Okay Doc…I need to think about it. I’ll get back to you, okay?”

(America never returned to the clinic. Eventually he lost feeling in half of his body. Just as the doctor had predicted, America started to suffer violent outbursts, shunning anyone who tried to convince him to get help, to see what he was doing to himself. Ultimately, he even rejected those who loved him, growing more fearful and isolated as the end grew near. In the final stages his heart grew harder and harder until it just stopped beating. It was a terrible death. A regrettable, senseless death that could have been avoided. But it was America’s choice ultimately. May he…may we Rest In Peace.)

kat ~ 16 October 2016


Ode to a Fallen Leaf on Pavement


ripped from her anchor, seduced by a storm
I grieve for the leaf who’ll never reach home
she’ll perish denied earth’s succor and warmth
ravaged by tempests, then tossed used, alone

I grieve for the leaf who’ll never reach home
trusting, in free fall, death’s promise of rest
ravaged by tempests, then tossed used, alone
left there to wither, exposed and bereft

trusting, in free fall, death’s promise of rest
Gaia groans helpless in empty embrace
left there to wither, exposed and bereft
imprisoned, controlled by walls out of place

Gaia groans helpless in empty embrace
shackled, her freedom to thrive is denied
imprisoned, controlled by walls out of place 
her beautiful wildness quelled and despised

shackled, her freedom to thrive is denied
nature’s perfection, season to season
her beautiful wildness quelled and despised
she must be hushed the haughty will reason

nature’s perfection season to season
she’ll perish denied earth’s succor and warmth
she must be hushed the haughty will reason
ripped from her anchor, seduced by a storm

kat ~ 9 October 2016
(A Pantoum Poem)