Apr 19
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Soliloquy

Soliloquy

By Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II  

Sung by Gordon MacRae, playing the character of Billy Bigelow in the 1956 film of the musical “Carousel”.

So·lil·o·quy
/səˈliləkwē/

noun
an act of speaking one's thoughts aloud when by oneself or regardless of any hearers, especially by a character in a play.

This was Billy’s Soliloquy…
Here is mine.

I sit and wait
Waiting for what?
I don’t know

I sit and wait, contemplating myself and my future
I wonder where life will take me
Where will I be in 10 years, or even 5?

I sit on the couch and wait
Waiting for the day to be over so that I can rest myself
Waiting to eat my next meal
Waiting for the next thing to begin

I sit and wait for no particular reason
Daydreaming, some might call it
Apr 05
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Finding Home

Where is home?
Is it one place?
Does it have to be one place?
Can anywhere be called home, or can nowhere be called home?
Home is mentioned in casual conversations often. It seems to be a much more complex subject than one might initially think, though. Are people assigned homes based on their language, skin color, worldview, or even types of clothing? If I were to be assigned a homeland, it might be someplace in Europe since that is where the majority of my ancestors came from. But to just say Europe doesn't quite work. For one thing, there are so many countries in Europe. For another thing, I have ancestors from many countries in Europe, so it cannot be that just one of them is my assigned home. 

I have never been to Europe. I cannot very well call a place I've never been, home.
Mar 15
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Listen, I Have A Story

Whirling, dancing, free at last!  I was weightless, lighter than air, a tiny seed of an ash tree. I had not a care in the world. I felt the warm summer breeze carry me farther and farther from my mother tree and from familiar land. Then, the gust of wind ceased and I felt myself falling slowly, peacefully to the edge of a meadow, a cornfield in fact. I landed in a shady area and sat still and silent, waiting for a minute, an hour, a day, a week. After seven days of sitting in the shady undergrowth on the border between a forest and a cornfield, I heard a rustling sound. A large animal (which I did not know was called a deer) walked my way and covered me with dark, rich, soil as she passed. Then the rains came. Rain poured down day and night for two days straight. I was wet and covered in soil, a perfect time to spread my roots and begin reaching for the sun. I pushed up and before I knew it, there I was again, except this time I was a sprout.
Feb 01
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Passage

All around me there was orange. I thought I was going for an ordinary walk, but then, all of a sudden, I found myself in this place. The walls were orange, the light was orange, and the ceiling was orange. I cautiously took a few steps forward then walked slowly through the tunnel. The walkway was not orange, it was an ordinary sidewalk. I breathed in and smelled a familiar scent. Citrus perhaps? I brushed the wall of the tunnel with my hand, and at my touch, there was a sound. Not exactly what I would have expected, not the sound of a hand brushing up against a sheetrock or cement wall, and not what might have been thought of as a pretty sound, like a harp or perhaps a harmonica, either. The sound I heard was of a series of PVC pipes - hanging vertically - being bumped into each other and making a hollow plastic-y sound. At first, I was confused. What kind of a tunnel was this? Why did it make this sound? I brushed the wall again.
Jan 25
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Warming Up

Clip-clop, clip-clop, roar! Scritch-scratch, boom, boom, boom, bang! Doot-doodoo-doo! The animals trotted around the ring, practicing for the evening’s performance. The ringmaster paced up and down the aisles, his tall black hat tipped significantly forward, nearly covering his eyes. His lips moved slightly, as if reciting some ancient verse that no longer passes through the lips of young people. The ringmaster's breath rose from his downturned face like little puffs from a steam engine that is just getting going or the vapor from an exhaust pipe of an old truck that is struggling to start on a cold morning. Short, irregular puffs, probably due to the motion of his lips.
Jan 18
poem 0 comments challenge: Memory
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I Remember

I remember going on a trip to an animal rescue park.

It was my second birthday, so the memory is hazy.

I remember sitting in the back seat in a large car seat.

My dad was driving.

I remember leaning forward against my seat belt, trying to get a better look.

We were given a loaf of bread at the entrance to give to the animals as treats.

I remember seeing a bear and a zebra stick their heads in our car, asking for the food they knew we had.

My parents broke off small bits to satisfy each hungry mouth that we encountered.

I remember laughing.
Dec 21
poem 4 comments challenge: Snow
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Hold Your Breath

Nov 30
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Colors, Sounds, and Patterns

Morning.
I was woken by the sound of the sun rising. It sounded like an enormous marching band led by 200 trumpet players. It started quiet, as if the band was still far off in the distance. But as I opened my eyes I could see the sun rising over the ocean. I heard it louder and louder until I began to hear the drum roll before the sun dipped out from behind the horizon. The sound stopped. The sun shone through my bedroom window and all was silent.

Lunch break at work from 11:30 to noon.
I saw my co-worker’s phone ringing. She had gotten up to grab a drink but had left her phone sitting on the table. I watched as the ringtone made red and yellow flashes across my mind. Each time it started over I saw all the colors come skipping back from a dark area on the right. Finally, the ringing stopped and the colors became fainter and fainter until they disappeared altogether.

At the dinner table with my family. Music is playing.
Nov 16
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A Blackberry Pie

Nov 09
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A Day in the Life

"Please, walk slower Mildred!" gasps Filicia, grabbing Mildred's arm, "I can't keep up in these heels." The two older women are on their way to their ladies' group that meets every other Tuesday at 2:00 pm. They rotate who hosts. Mildred brings a jar of strawberry-lime punch to every meeting, saying "when I was a little girl, one of my girlfriends' mothers would always make strawberry-lime punch when us girls would come to her house. I loved it so much that I decided to keep up the tradition."Mildred also always brings a gift for the hostess, "just some little treasure I got" she always says as she presents the gift to each hostess. Filicia on the other hand, although admiring and appreciating Mildred's kind gestures, wants nothing to do with bringing extra to the meetings. The only things she carries are her handbag and this time, although it is extremely rare for her to do this, Filicia is bringing a cake that she made.

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