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Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Friendship Balls

Let's teach our children about colors ... and a bit about friendship, too!
Who knows ... we may even learn a thing or two.








Picture Books (Saturday Writing Essential)

Len's Prompt Rules:

Write the text for a children’s picture book (prose, poetry, fiction, essay, whatever).

You must have only sixteen sentences.
Each sentence can have one to fifteen words.
You can have a word of three syllables in only four of the sentences.
You can have only one word of four syllables in the work.
There can be no words of more than four syllables.


Photo used in this creation courtesy of morgueFile.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Lost Kindred Souls

This post is dedicated to my baby brother ... I love you.

Every single day, in every possible way, show your loved ones the love you feel for them, before life or death snatches them away...



This was first posted here and you're encouraged to read the discussions that took place, sign up and comment, too.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

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.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

JENNIFER LEE is the GRATITUDE GIVEAWAY winner!

CONGRATULATIONS JENNIFER LEE!

I am delighted to announce that you are the WINNER of abitosunshine LOVE and WRITING's GRATITUDE GIVEAWAY! Scottie drew your name out o' his hat just a moment ago! You are the recipient of my CafePress abitosunshine poetic creation -- Journal of Thought, Word, and Deed!

Jennifer, you are ever so deserving of this win -- you are a WINNER! Your recent commitment to gratitude in your daily Gather posts are impressive and winning this gratitude journal seems like pure poetic justice to me!

Loveya Jennifer Lee!

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

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 ...

Thursday, April 22, 2010

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.



----------

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

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


Wednesday, April 21, 2010

"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.


----------


"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.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

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.

----------

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