The Toothless Wonder

The Toothless Wonder
by Ruth Cox

Rarely in my lifetime have I committed myself to resolutions for a new year; however, I have stated goals each new year which I guess amounts to about the same thing. For this writing I'd planned to share my goals for the new year and a recap of the previous year. But, first things first.

I need to share a bit of my thought process with you. When I thought of writing my recap of the year 2010 I first felt the urge to know the true definition of the word "recap". This led me to two synonyms of the word: review and recapitulation. I decided to further investigate the word "recapitulation" and ended up engrossed in reading material relative to the theory of recapitulation.

My investigative urges always take me to interesting places and newfound snippets of knowledge. I'll share what I found interesting, but also for further reading you may want to visit Recapitulation Theory at Wikipedia to learn much more. What I found applicable to me is that birds do not grow teeth although they do possess the genetics for so doing.

You may now be thinking, What in the world does this have to do with Ruthi's recap of 2010? Well, I'll come back to this a bit later! Right now I will recap my past year. Three life happenings will reign in my memory as the most important of my life-changing events in the year 2010.

On May 19th my youngest half-sibling died of cancer. This was a heart-wrenching event in more ways than one. My brother's death and my family's reactions to it (as apply to me) confirm what I've known, but ran from, for thirty-five years: I lost my brother decades ago; when our mother died in 1975 I lost my family. Period.

Had she lived, July 12th would have been my mother's seventy-fifth birthday. Now this date will also be remembered as the day my dog Scratch died. Loved ones come and go and we cannot always choose the time of which these losses will occur, nor can we always choose the tolls to be paid with each loss, and (in my opinion) we can never "get over" the loss of loved ones. Closure is but an imaginary thing.

My third life-changing event occurred on October 19th. I became a first-time grandmom! The moment I saw my son cradle his newborn son to his chest was without a doubt the most profound moment in my lifetime. I felt as though I were watching my life fly by in a flash and it had flown full-cirle. I felt as though my destiny was done.

As I sat here today reading and re-reading the biological passages relating to life stages this toothless bird snippet kept gnawing at my thoughts. My mind flew back in time to the goals I'd set for myself at the beginning of 2010. Some I reached and some I did not. However, the little birdie in my brain tells me now that although a goal was unmet it does not mean I didn't possess what it would have taken to bring the goal to fruition. And I assure you I shall chew on that toothless bird snippet throughout 2011 as I commit to bringing this year's goals into being.

My goals for 2011 are simply stated in three words: peacefulness, positivity, and productivity. No matter what life brings I am equipped to have a year filled with peace; no matter the negative in my world I am capable of remaining positive; and, no matter the pitfalls or the downfalls of my days I possess what it takes to be productive.

There is birth and then there is re-birth. And the new year springs forth as a reminder of life starting anew. And my destiny shall never be done. Like the bird who lacks teeth, but has the genes needed to grow them, I have the power within me to choose my destiny and choose it I shall. I will reach my goals in the year 2011, if only by the skin of my teeth, and proudly proclaim the toothless wonder.

Submitted January 2011:

Remember November

Remember November, Child
©Ruth Cox

November
Orphans of war,
Veterans who knew the score;
Evolutive remnants of humankind,
Maligned;
Begat of canon-like song.
Earthborn: right the wrong!
Remember

Memories being what they may: from the Meuse-Argonne forest to the cemetary; from the fallen leaves of the earth to the cease-fire of a world war's girth; and, from the remains left of the wild, onward to the right of the child. The month of November is a time to remember. Children born and bred of war with needs ignored would give rise to fighting for a new cause: children's rights.

I will not for repetition's sake share words of war; instead, I shall share with you two days, two names, and the pleas they implore: Armistice Day and Universal Children's Day; and the names, Lady Blomfield and Eglantyne Jebb.

It matters not that some celebrate on a different day, even a different month. And it matters not that some acknowledge one or the other. What matters is we remember that war steals one thing from all the children of the earth: Peace!

In my wanderings as I surfed the net today, I ran across five stipulations of the original Declaration of the Rights of the Child. In reading them I couldn't help but think that if we each put these into practice as the rights of all the children of the earth, then we might truly know perfect peace.

Be they as they may ... Lest we forget.

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Source(s):
http://www.firstworldwar.com/features/armistice.htm
http://www.un.org/depts/dhl/children_day/
http://www.btinternet.com/~iain.s.palin/heritage/blmem.htm
http://www.leader-values.com/Content/detail.asp?ContentDetailID=794
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Declaration_of_the_Rights_of_the_Child

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Len's Saturday Writing Essential Challenge: Write something (prose or poetry; fiction, essay, or nonfiction) about the month of November. Do not write about Thanksgiving -- I’m reserving that for a challenge later in the month.

Autumn Reflection

As summer nears its end and fall of the leaves begins, I find myself in a reflective mood once again. Seasons change, as do you and I. Let us hope that we do so with the same golden glory of Mother Nature...

Embarrassing Moments

Hand Me Down Dress
©Ruth Cox

"Hooray, it's Saturday," my belly bellows as I slip out of bed. I give it a rub to shut it up so as not to awaken my three sister siblings who still lay scattered on the double bed like a pile of worn out clothes. I listen for sounds from the outer room. I hear only the television, thankfully. This means only Mom is up and maybe, just maybe, my hungry belly and I can have a moment alone with her to convince her to take us to church for the free lunch and clothing bank.


For this true story in its entirety ... click to READ MORE

Writing Style Analyzer

Blogging and author friend, Charmaine Clancy, shared a great and fun link on her blog, Wagging Tales, and I just had to share it with you, too. The link is to I Write Like, a writing style analyzer, where you simply insert your writing into the analyzer tool and it will tell you which famous author your writing style resembles.

I decided to have three samples of my writing analyzed and was quite pleased and amused by the results. First was a sampling of my poetry, since it is my preferred choice of writing. I inserted the following poem:


Timeless Travel O' Truth
©Ruth Cox

In pre-dawn hour ship spirits hail;
Gypsy o' the sea is bade, "Set sail."
Atop the water's underworld,
All time and space constraints unfurl'd.
Sun o' yon morrow now arisin'
To claim what lies beyond horizon;
Schooled seafarer drew up a mind blank,
As earth fell flat walkin' the gangplank.
Astern swam ol' soul o' history;
Ahead held sol, breachin' mystery.
Sea gypsy caught by ray o' fire
Rode on heaven's burnin' desire.
Master o' the sky cried an "Ahoy!"
Mate now rides tide o' truth to enjoy.


The I Write Like analyzer said:

I write like
James Joyce

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

 
Next, I had my true story/ghost story analyzed, which you can read here on my blog:
Shades of Summer on a Leather Leash
 
The I Write Like analyzer said:

I write like
Lewis Carroll

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

 
Lastly, I selected one of my recent book review writings, which you can read on my blog, Ruthi Reads!:
Book Review: Ghost Words and Other Echoes...
 
The I Write Like analyzer said:

I write like
H. P. Lovecraft

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

 
The writing analyzer results were interesting and fun and I do hope you'll share the results of your own writing analysis, too!

I Just Cannot "Do" Mother's Day

I Just Cannot "Do" Mother's Day
©2002 Ruth Cox

I just cannot "do" Mother's Day;
Most don't understand why this I say.

My Mother is dead and I miss her so much,
Daily glimpses of her my soul does touch.
Her life was stolen from my siblings and me,
Domestic violence took her from us, you see.

My sisters have children unseen by our Mother;
Being held by one's Gramma is a feeling like no other.
Brothers share memories of Mom in a red cloud of danger;
A fist full of pain in their hearts is not a stranger.

I just cannot "do" Mother's Day;
Hope you understand why this I say.

My son is missing from this daily world o' mine,
Lost to drugs and for his heart I endlessly pine.
He wanders aimlessly in his world, dark and remote,
The fears and horrors of his past he continues to tote.

My hopes and dreams for my son, difficult to smother,
Live on in my soul and I pray he shall one day discover
A light to lead him along a path that will in the end
Allow him to feel the love of his Mother, also his friend.

I just cannot "do" Mother's Day;
Hope you understand why this I say.

My spirit is filled with sadness on this honored day
But I celebrate it daily, in my own special way.
And for those of you who miss a child or your mother
Know that you surely have the understanding of another.

My heart grieves for the loss of my mother and my son,
Yet deep inside I know the raging battle shall be won.
For I believe one day a light will shine from up above;
Mothers and their children will be reunited by His love.

I just cannot "do" Mother's Day;
Hope you understand why this I say.

Trickery of Time

Sometimes I feel as though I've been jugglin' time for a lifetime, how about you? I've learned a thing or two along the way, though; as I juggle mid work and play I must remember that I must do what I say -- just do it! All it takes is time ...

Fiddlestick Folk

Fiddlestick Folk
©Ruth Cox


Here's how we twiddle
The time of our life:
You stroke the fiddle,
I'll finger the fife.

Wee sister wiggles
While Ma sings desire;
Li'l brother giggles,
And Pa tends the fire.

As each of us stirs
Magic of our own;
Reality blurs,
And dreams become known.

You're fishin' upstream,
Jump a riverboat;
Like freshwater bream,
Aimlessly afloat.

I'm berry pickin',
Juice quenches my thirst;
The baby's kickin',
I'm about to burst.

Pa grabs his shotgun,
Saddles up his horse;
He'll find my loved one,
Bring him back, of course.

Ma's got a weddin'
She's readyin' for;
Tears she's a sheddin'
While pacin' the floor.

Brother and sister,
They've nary a clue;
They play tongue twister,
A game tried and true.

Petticoats I don,
'Neath an off-white dress.
The door is knocked on,
Preacher's here I guess.

Once we let him in,
Totin' board of slate,
He writes with chagrin,
"How long must we wait?"

We hear horse whinny
And sound of whip crack;
Cringe for the ninny,
Pa cut him no slack.

Wood door opens wide
And you say with glee:
"All jokin' aside,
Will you marry me?"

We both say "I do."
And the preacher nods.
Ma serves up the stew
While the fire Pa prods.

You stroke the fiddle,
I'll finger the fife:
Time we now twiddle
As husband and wife.



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Written in response to Len's Prompt for Saturday Writing Essential of Gather Writing Essential:

*Write a historical fiction story (prose or poetry).

"VIOLENCE IN THE HOME"

I am continuing to follow Kimberly Blackadar's Blog and today her post is entitled,
Poetry Workshop #2: Borrowed Poetry

Accorcing to POETS.org, a pure Borrowed or Found poem consists exclusively of outside texts: the words of the poem remain as they were found, with few additions or omissions. Decisions of form, such as where to break a line, are left to the poet.

My Borrowed/Free Verse Poem/Social Commentary is written from various titles in the CONTENTS page of the book, Battered Wives, by Del Martin, 1976. I've omitted no words in the titles; I have rearranged the content titles, quoted them, and added punctuation. I have added as few words as possible; my added words are not in quotations. If the word "wife" or "wives" was used in the original content title, I have inserted the word "spouse" in its place and the author's use of "she" is changed to "she/he" as well.


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"VIOLENCE IN THE HOME"
©Ruth Cox

"The Incidence of Domestic Violence"
occurring in
"The Great American Family"
may consist of
"Spouse Abuse : The Skeleton in the Closet,"
and/or abuse of
"The Children."

"An Overview of Cruelty"
may tell us
"What Triggers the Batterer."

These triggers may include:
"The Economics of Marriage,"
"Verbal Arguments,"
"Class and Status Variables,"
"Histories of Violence and Occupational Hazards,"
"Drunkenness and Alcoholism,"
"Jealousy,"
"Sterotyped Sex Roles,"
"Socialization and Sex Roles",
and
"Sexuality as Aggressiveness."

"The Victim -- Why Does She/He Stay?"
Victims are
"Trapped by Fear!"

And there are
"Socially Determined Reasons."

These may include:
"Arrest Procedures,"
"Police Policy and Practice,"
"Spouse-Abuse Laws,"
and
"Protection Orders,"
which protect no one.

And, there is
"Social Services -- The Big Runaround!"

The lack of
"Emergency Housing,"
"Public Financial Assistance,"
"Mental Health Services,"
"Police Training and Crisis Intervention,"
and lack of
"Victim Aid"...
all render the victim
helpless
and
hopeless.

These are
"The Facts of Life"
and...
Not much has changed since
Del Martin
wrote
Battered Wives
in 1976.

Mount Pleasant Path

Mount Pleasant Path
Me and My Girl
©Ruth Cox

I hike the high hills,
dark caverns, too,
step over fallen rock,
dodge and deal
with mishaps
strewn along the path.
Dog barks up ahead.
Yes, I brought my friend.
For without her...
Harm
may come once again.

She laps of -
I jump into -
the cooling water.
She trots alongside,
never leaving path.
She has known the chill
of my loneliness...
I am grateful for this fact.

Back on the bank,
the crooked creek's edge,
I sit,
I rest,
thoughts dance among the dead.
A lick upon my face says,
All is not lost;
Never alone;
Friend guards your back.

We climb the mount, slowly
reaching for the top.
The sun guides our footprints
upon the path we walk.
Strongest of the rays
points the way -
Go around.
Go through.
Life awaits you two.

The top draws near,
we rest once more,
listen to the waterfall
flowing in the distance.
Sound travels,
an arrow,
aimed for the heart.
I think...
This must be
where love got its start.

My gal disappears,
seemingly runs astray;
I hear yelps of glee,
leading me unto the light;
brighter as I go.
This must be the pathway
of the things I should know.

I feel the need
to rest a moment more,
settle myself
on the dirt of the floor.
I feel the warmth
as I hold
the ground in my hand.
But time is ticking,
I tell myself,
Rise.

Dog appears
in the clearing ahead,
waits for me to catch her,
then...
stands her ground.
Her tail another voice,
it wags, Delighted!
Then it halts, Who goes there?
And it curls, Friend, not foe.

Together, we
stand
at the peak;
our world at our feet.
Just me and my girl.

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Today I wanted to take my Tidbit for a walk at Mount Pleasant, but, I didn't. I wanted to then write a gratitude/current for Shedding Light, but since I didn't go for the walk, I couldn't. Late tonight I saw an email from Kimberly Blackadar's Blog regarding today's Poetry Workshop. It seemed to fit perfectly with what I wanted to do.

The poem above is the result of her blog workshop. It began with a closed-eyes, fingers on the keyboard, mind walking with visuals, freewrite, which I share below...


I walk the hills
the caverns too
step over the rocks
avoid the mishaps
found along the path

a dog barks ahead
yws, i brought my friend
for without her harm
may come again

I jump right into
the cool of the waters
she jogs alongside, ne'er leavin' the path
for she has known
the chill of my loneliness
and i am grateful for this fact

back on the bank
of the crooked creek's edge
I sit, I rest, thoughts
dance among the dead
A lick upon my face
says all is not lost
never alone when a friend
guards your back

slowly we climb the mountain
reaching for the top
the sun guides each
footprint upon the path we walk
the strongest ray points the way
go around, go through
life awaits you too

the top seems nearer now
we rest once more
listen to the waterfall dropping in the distance
the sound travels
ike an arrow
straight to the heart
 think this must be
where love got its start

my gal disappears
seemingly runs away
but i hear yelps of glee
she's leading the way
I follow the light
getting brighter as i go
this must be the way
of the things i should know

I feel the need to rest once more
settle myself on the the dirt of the floor
I feel the warmth when I hold
the ground in my hand
but time is tickin
so again i stand
my friend appears in the clearing ahead
waits til I catch her
then she runs on ahead
the tail it wags
then it halts and it curls
we stand at the peak
just me and my girl

Lententide Love -- Good Friday

My offering today pays tribute to Good Friday and what the day means to me at this moment in time.

If you celebrate the holiday -- Happy Easter!

If you do not celebrate the holiday -- Happy Friday!

  

Resurrection

Resurrection
©Ruth Cox

Love

takes a nose-dive amid the chill of a setting sun

Writing

ink red drips its pain from the sharp point of a pen

Renewal

murmurs faintly from a broken-hearted warning

Dove


Love

placed back in the forefront unites all things into one

Writing

flows freely from the wellspring enlightening ken

Renewal

arises in the heart-warming woo of the mourning

Dove

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Write about what RENEWAL has to do with LOVE and WRITING.
(WWAUW writing prompt response; prompt courtesy of Ruthi)

Journal -- Letter to my Son

(WWAUW writing prompt response; prompt courtesy of Dianna)

Write a letter to someone you love encouraging them to keep a journal and explain why you think it's so important to the ones they love.

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William,

Your every thought, your every feeling, holds importance to me.

More importantly, your thoughts and feelings are of value to you.

Keeping a record, a journal, of the thoughts and feelings you have each day can serve as a way of letting go, a way of healing. Writing, as well as re-reading what we write, is often a great tool for reflection. I encourage you to keep a record of daily events in your life and how you feel and react in relation to these events. I feel that not only would this serve to record, it may also serve to assist you to reflect upon the experiences, as well as your emotional response to what occurred. Hopefully, this would lead to greater understanding of yourself, as well as others, and ultimately, a greater understanding of your life.

Myself... over the course of my lifetime I've written my deepest and darkest thoughts in journals, diaries, and in my poetry and prose. Some have been written to later be burned; some have been written to be lost along life's way; some have been written to be shared; some have been written to be found upon my demise.

I'm about to begin a brand new journal of my thoughts. (Thanks to a gentle push from my friend Karen.) In fact, her encouragement has also caused me to create an empty journal book, available for purchase at CafePress abitosunshine. Karen mentioned on the phone the other day that her favorite of my poetic creations of late is one entitled "Whirlpool" and I realized it would make the perfect cover for a journal of thought and emotion. The verse is truly one that gives room for reflection and direction.

My son, it is, of course, my hope, that you may want one of my blank journals. And, of course, I'll happily purchase one from myself on your behalf -- if you ask me to do so. And, most importantly, I hope that you fill it with the dreams and desires of your heart.

With Momma's Love,
Ruthi


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Link -- my original "Whirlpool" poetic creation.
Link -- purchase "Whirlpool" Journal at CafePress abitosunshine!

Love and Writing

First, I have a few definitions to share:

Love: a strong positive emotion of regard and affection; any object of warm affection or devotion; get pleasure from

Writing: the activity of putting something in written form; the act of creating written works; the work of a writer

Passion: something that is desired intensely; strong feeling or emotion

Commitment: the act of binding yourself (intellectually or emotionally) to a course of action; the trait of sincere and steadfast fixity of purpose


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Love and writing -- A Marriage Made in Heaven

I've been married, and divorced, more than once. I don't take marriage lightly, but sometimes no matter how hard we work at something, we appear to fail. Notice I said appear. For I don't believe that divorce is failure; I believe that some things come to an end because for whatever reason we no longer derive pleasure from that course of action. It is the course of action that has reached its demise.

In the past few years I've changed my course of action. I've united love and writing -- a perfect union -- one that I feel will lead me to fulfill many of my little girl dreams.

I have bound myself, intellectually and emotionally, to realizing my childhood dream of fame and fortune. I've made the committment to treat my writing, especially my poetic talent, as a God-given gift to be shared, and in so doing, the rewards are plentiful. With each new writing, my love becomes stronger and my rewards are greater -- a bit o' sunshine shared beams back at me. I've learned to behold the fame and fortune found in the warmth of each and every one of these sunbeams.

I have devoted myself to the passionate pursuit of happiness -- of others, thereby soaring the heights of my own happiness by shedding light upon another. I've learned there is no greater strength than that found in a ray of hope shared with someone else.

Will I marry again? I believe that I will, for I still believe in my little girl dream: I believe my White Knight rides the rays of the sun in search of his damsel. He'll be surprised to find that not only is his damsel not in distress, but that she is greatly blessed by the fruits of her labor in the union of her love and her writing.

Love and Writing awaits those who ride toward the spirit o' the sun wherein the marriage made in Heaven shall be won.


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This blog began as a prompt challenge in Women With A Unique Word.