Mar 04

Together, washed by words


Someone wise, soft, kind
once shared with us
the words of another man

THIS IS WATER
They said.

And we lay there, sat there, rested there
All together in that room
All us kids gathered
    silent
   enticed
    captivated
   unmoving
     stone
the words washed over us
new, careful, not yet greatly significant, but worth our while.
and so we sat likes stones
and the words washed over us.
Soon, we forgot to be
and we just were.
Congregated together, sitting, lying, on chairs, benches, window sills, the floor
until the end. We remained motionless. We had been washed in words with great significance.
THIS IS WATER
They said.

A small room silent, still,
and brimming with as many of us as the volume would allow.

So many minds, faces, existences,
Jan 25

"I'm just returning your call...for prompts"

1. Write about a time when you just knew
2. The number 27, is it ordinary? Is it special? Is it bizarre? Invisible? You tell me...
3. Why do siblings exist?
4. Write a letter to someone who hasn't been born yet or who you don't know. Your great-great-great-great niece. A brilliant future doctor. The next post man for your neighborhood/town. A barnacle at the ocean's bottom. The person who made your socks.
5. Encorporate "still, no..." into a piece.
6. If bumble bees could communicate with humans, which people would they talk to, what would them tell them, and why?
7. A new nation is added to the world. Explain.
8. Write a piece using only sentences containing betwee 0 and 5 words.
9. Write a piece using the longest sentences you can come up with. Try to avoid making a list or listing more than 4 things in each sentence.
Jan 25

Numbers that Don't Matter






2 humans
2 hearts
4 hands
4 eyes
4 ears
4 arms
4 legs
4 feet
20 toes
20 fingers
2 phones
26 letters
2 keypads
1 text message after
another text message
14 notifications
3 dings
0 real, meaningful, human connections
0 facial expressions
0 giggles
0 smiles
0 smirks
0 nose-crinkled scowls
0 intimate quirks

0 instants of eye contact
0 hand gestures
Jan 25

poemita

Jan 01

Listen

I am not a fan of adding my own notes before a piece of writing but I am a less of a fan of plagiarism. Thus, I must give credit where credit is due. The italicized words in the middle-ish stanza are taken from lindseycarbee's poem "The Story of Us". You can read it here or click on the "source of sprout" at the bottom.
 

Dec 31

This is a SPROUT

So this is a SPROUT!

YES this is spot on!
Wow, this is so perfectly worded
I love that the sprouts are so BIG and that there is a gardener.
The gardener is smaller, shorter than the SPROUTS
It makes me think how we are all gardeners, in a sense,
gardeners tending to this BIG garden of words and stories

The gardener is smaller, shorter than the SPROUTS
we are all gardeners
and we are smaller, shorter, than the WRITING we share,
the community we are,
the humanity, ENTHUSIASM, connectedness that we maintain
and the precious words, thoughts, images, languages we spread.
Dec 30

SkyLoveClouds

Dec 29

Her "White" Dress— Part 1

PART ONE

          She tiptoed but to no avail, the stairs still creaked-- old boards groaning and spilling ancient secrets as she descended. The young woman approached the second to last landing. Suddenly, she gasped. There in front of her was a wedding dress she had never noticed before. Pearl white, creamy beige, a stunning soft tone of milky pale, not too brown, nor overly yellow, and least of all not in the slightest was it abhorrently bright-- like artificial chemical-packed printer paper. Not in any way was the color wrong. The dress was of the only shade of white she could imagine wearing on her wedding day. So then and there she pushed open the large glass door, minding the chinkity-clankity-clonk of aluminum cowbells or jingle bells or flimsy and loud metal chimes of some sort or another that sounded against the door as she pushed it open.
Dec 16

Dear Mina, In response to that letter from rex

Dear Mina,
December 16th, 2016

It is one of those things that I must bottle up, somewhat, and place at the bottom of a box to be revisited later.
 
I refold the two pages of 8 1/2 by 11 printer paper relaying the words my cousin chose to type to me.
 
I place the quartered paper inside the--albeit thoughtfully chosen-- Hallmark grocery store (belated) birthday message. “Here’s 2 You!”
 
I close the bright yellow card, quickly tucking it back into the swimming-pool blue envelope.
 
Just the minute gesture of returning those words to their enclosure is a good feeling. A right feeling. Most of all, a safe feeling. Accompanied by a sigh.
 

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