May Assignment

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The next meeting for the Community of Mercer County Writers - or Nomadic Ink - will be Friday, May 22 at 6 pm at the Ag Center in McAfee.

Your assignment - if you choose to accept - write a story, poem, prose or song entitled:

"My Mother and Me"

We didn't have a very big response to members posting on the blog, but we encourage everyone to post their stories.

The next public reading for Nomadic Ink will be Sunday, May 31st at 2 pm at the Fudge Company on Main Street

The Windmill

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives

THE WINDMILL

Wind moves the windmill
Like a choreographed dance
The natural force
And the man made contraption
At one on the lonely prairie
Sending me images of the land before Oz
Stirring my emotions and memories
Holding them captive
Awaiting the creative outlet
That is bound to flow from my pen

The Girl and May Flowers

It was the first time I had seen the girl and I thought it odd because Adolph, my Basset Hound, and I take this walk almost daily. But, a beautiful day in May often brings out people who don't normally visit cemeteries. I suppose the May Flowers in bloom are the attraction. And, today they were glorious. Tulips lined the gray stone wall and Daffodils dotted the space between them. The purple Red Buds and White Dogwood blooms hung heavy above all the other flowers and created a wonderful contrast in colors.

A gentle wind blew and was only disturbed by the blare of distant sirens in the city. The girl wore a sleeveless summer dress which I thought to be a bit cool for the day but she did not seem to be chilled at all. She stood just inside the main entrance and smiled at me as I approached. I smiled back.

Adolph didn't seem to notice her at first and it surprised me since he has such a keen sense of smell.

"Your dog is cute," the girl said as we got closer to her, "does he bite?" She was holding a purple and white Iris in her hand. It looked almost like an Orchid.

"Thank you," I replied, "No, he does not bite. He is pretty laid back. It would take too much effort for him to bite anyone."

Even with my assurance, the girl stepped back when Adolph finally began to sniff his way to her.

"You may pet him if you want too."

"Thank you, but no, I am not very good with dogs."

I pulled Adolph to a stop, "My name is Zack and this is Adolph. I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new to our community?"

"Oh, no, I've been around for a long time. But I have seen you all before. You come here a lot, don't you?"

"Yes, it is one of our daily routes. Don't you just love these May Flowers?"

"They are beautiful, they always are this time of year. I love the pink and blue Phlox, the way it mounds over the rocks. It is just so beautiful."

As she spoke, I heard more sirens and wondered what was going on. They seemed closer now. "Yes, I love the Phlox too, I wish it bloomed like that year round. So you have seen us before? I guess we just missed you somehow. The breeze is a little chilly this morning, aren't you cold?"

"Not at all. It's always a little cool here but it makes me feel alive. You have family here, don't you?"

"Yes, over in the Eastern corner. That is our family plot. I guess they will plant me there someday. There is a lot of family over there, all the way back to my great-great grandmother."

"She's a beautiful lady, isn't she?"

"They say my sister looks just like her." I answered even though I thought the question a little strange.

Adolph began sniffing around and seemed to be ready to continue our walk. "I guess we had better be getting on. You are welcome to walk with us if you like."

"Thank you, that would be nice, but I usually just stay right around here."

"Well, you have a good day. Maybe we will see you again soon?"

"I am sure you will see a lot more of me now and the others too." The girl hesitated for a moment then went on, "Do you hear them talking?"

The question was so strange. It just seemed really eerie and I couldn't answer at first.

"If you listen, you can hear them." She held her hand up as if she were telling me to stop thinking and just listen.

I tilted my head and concentrated on listening to whatever it was she was talking about. When I heard the voices, I began to understand all to clearly...

"I swear," a young man said, "They just walked right out in front of me. There was nothing I could do."

"I guess he didn't see you coming. I see him walking along here all the time."

"Sir, what should we do with the dog?"

"If you have an extra blanket, just wrap it up and put it in my truck. I am sure the family will want to bury it."

"Yes, Sir. The coroner is on his way. It's a shame, isn't it, on such a beautiful Spring day...

NOTE: Now be very honest in your comments... let me know what I could have done to make this a better piece... practice your critique and write good helpful comments.

Congrats to many

I just want to congratulate all of our writers: Earl for the new book, Staci, Paula, Bobbi and Tammy for their columns... Shirley for sharing her newest writing... Mr. Robinson for the new novel he is working on... to Lynn for not being afraid to step out there and share his fresh writing... To Christine and the production she has worked on so hard and late.. To Morgan who writes and writes and writes... to each of you for your contribution to my writing. You are all inspiring me to be better and productive
Keep up the fantastic writing you are doing... someday it will all pay off in a very special way.

Working to be here more

Hello, Ink Blots and others who are following this blog,
It has been a crazy few weeks (make that months) and I have not been able to post as much as I wanted to on here. The picture I have included with this post is what my office looks like right now. It is one of the reasons I have not been on like I want to be. You could call it a work in progress.. a lot of work and very little progress. But, I am going to try and designate a day and time to dedicate to this blog because I think it is one of the most important elements of our Community of Mercer County Writers. Bobbi, is to be highly commended for her management of the Nomadic Ink Blog site. She works very hard at keeping us up to date.Recently I asked her to keep the latest Workshop and Group challenge at the beginning so no one would have to search several pages to find it.... almost immediately she did it and has kept it there ... we all need to thank her for all of this because without her work we would not have this place to share our work on a daily basis.

I have been trying to post my May Flower story now for a month and maybe if all goes well I will get that done today. Part of my problem has been the move, the weather and a host of other distractions.Isn't it easy to find excuses not to do something we know is important and helpful.It is the way of the writer... so many of us almost always are looking for reasons not to write... but the good thing about that is, it is the perfect indication that we are truly writers. Those who only dabble in writing will get on a post like this and try to use it for their gain or slop something on here just to see their name... but, to my delight, the members of our group are afraid to post something because they don't think it is good enough... which means it is perfect for this site.

How many of you have started to read something in the workshop or group and said, "Oh, this is not very good." and the whole group is awed by what you have written? Almost everyone of you has... and it makes everyone in the group happy to see such good writing coming out. I am constantly amazed at how good you guys are... each of you has the potential to be a successful writer and I am proud to be a part of this group!!!

Enough rambling on my part this morning... I hope to post a few things for you critical eye today... please be honest and tell me exactly what you think... I will only be mad at you for a few minutes...NOT!!!!
Tony

NO Class

Just a reminder - there will be NO formal meeting of the advanced writing class at the library this week. However, we will have an informal meeting at the Fudge Company on Main Street at 6pm. Come on over for some yummy ice cream and good company.

Mae Flowers

Mae Flowers

Her life did not turn out to be the one she had imagined. As a young girl, dreaming and drowsy in the tranquil shade of the trees that sheltered her father’s house, she had pictured something quite different, I’m sure. Early photographs of her show a beautiful young woman with vibrant red hair, a solemn smile, and the alabaster skin that was prized in the early 1900’s.

Childhood is never really easy, except perhaps when recalled with the hindsight of weary adult eyes. As a farm girl, there was precious little time for the pursuit of childish pleasures. Her father and her five brothers shouldered the burden of working in the fields, while she and her sister worked alongside their mother at the endless, grinding work to maintain a home for the family.

When she spoke of those times, though, it was with a wistful smile that belied the hardships endured in her childhood. The memories of backbreaking chores, tempered by the passage of time, assumed a “Little House on the Prairie” quality. When remembering her parents and siblings, genuine admiration and deep love generated a distinctive warmth in her voice and her eyes.

That warmth was hard to come by when she spoke of her adult life. She married young, to a handsome, charming man who would later become an abusive alcoholic. I don’t know what their early years of marriage were like, because as a child I lacked the empathy to ask, and I doubt she would have told me anyway. There was, at times, an almost palpable sadness about her, but if anyone remarked on it she would quickly change the subject. She was from a different generation, much too reserved to share her innermost feelings, and shocked by what people revealed on Phil Donahue’s show. In her world, a person simply didn’t talk about those things, much less broadcast them on national television. I have to smile when I imagine what her reaction would be to Dr. Phil and Jerry Springer.

Her children were her pride and joy; two fine, hardworking sons and a daughter who became a nurse. She loved them with the unconditional, infinite tenderness of a mother, and they adored her in return. In the unforgiving atmosphere created by her husband’s drinking, she nurtured them into flourishing adults, encouraging them to enjoy the time spent with their father when he was sober, and shielding them from the fallout when he was not.

Once the children had left home, her flowers became surrogate recipients of her loving care. There was precious little spare time allowed to her, yet she managed to fill the yard with beauty. Dazzling yellow forsythia filled one corner of the yard, contrasting with the vivid shades of purple iris stretched along the fence. Fragile pink blossoms nestled among the delicate tendrils of sweet pea winding through the front gate, releasing their subtle scent at the slightest brush. Overblown peonies bloomed extravagantly from beside the stone walkway. Lush petunias overflowed a window box, enticing tiny hummingbirds that delighted her as they darted from blossom to blossom. A glossy magnolia tree grew in stately splendor, providing fragrant shade. She even managed to coax high-maintenance roses into glorious bloom.

The lilac bush, however, was the crowning glory of her yard. It was massive, the perfumed lavender clusters permeating the yard with their heavenly aroma. She often joked, although never within earshot of her husband, that beer made it grow better. On Saturday nights, he would bring home enough beer to last through Sunday. After he had fallen asleep, she would pour most of it under the spreading branches of the lilac bush. Sunday morning, when he woke from his binge, she would tell him with a perfectly straight face that he had drank it all.

No, her life did not turn out to be the one she had imagined. She made the most of it, though, relying on God to sustain her when her own innate strength could not. She worked hard, created a loving home for her family, and taught her children and grandchildren solid values that served them well. She was a smart, funny, loving little woman. I miss you, Granny. Happy Mother’s Day.

See Me

SEE ME

The warm oblivion
slowly courses its way through the pipeline of my life,
taking me away from the worry, the stress which threatens to drown me.
Why do I seek the escape?
Why do I run instead of facing the dark reality around me?
I’m long past caring, long past trying to appear as a normal imprint in this
cruel, cold world.
Whoever said the pattern was to keep up with the Jones or to lead the life of a sheep
was wrong.
I am no sheep.
I am not a faceless nobody forced to confirm to societal rules;
weak, vulnerable, a shell of myself.
I’m an original, the mistress of my own destiny, the collective that is me.
So don’t judge me for seeking an escape from the burdens weighing me down.
Don’t you dare judge me.
Instead see the real me,
the scared little girl, the woman wallowing in a deep sea of grief.
See the pain, see the emptiness I’m trying to escape.
See me
I’m learning to stand tall.

Book Signing

Here is our good friend, Earl Dean, at his first book signing for A TAILOR MAIDEN'S SECRET. Congratulations again, Earl!

Book Signing with Earl Dean

Congratulations Earl P. Dean on the publication of your first novel! Earl is a member of The Community of Mercer County Writers - Nomadic Ink.



Mayfest 2009 Book Signing
Saturday, May 9th from noon - 4pm
Gratz Park in Lexington, Kentucky

Earl will be signing his new book, A TAILOR MAIDEN'S SECRET and you will be able to buy a copy of the book on Saturday, or you can order from Wasteland Press, Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

To learn more about the Mayfest events, click here.

A TAILOR MAIDEN'S SECRET

"Arliane Donestica attends mid-school on a planet called Pooda, a forbidding world of the future so far removed from Earth in space and time that the old world exists as a mythical origin for the poodan progenitors.

The Poodan Youth for Unity, sponsored by Pooda's Elders, are chasing Arliane through her snowbound city at the request of the Elders, pressuring her about unspoken activities that might tie her to rebellion similar to her mother's. Activist and wife as well, Arliane's mother had died in a protest by explosion.

Were the Elders behind it? Read of a biological mystery, political strife and forbidden action to discover the answer in A TAILOR MAIDEN’S SECRET."

Earl Patrick Dean is a computer programmer working in Kentucky. He holds a BA degree from Transylvania University and graduate certificates from The Institute of Children’s Literature, and has attended the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning workshops on Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror and Online Writing Workshop for Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror. He loves reading and collecting books, and writes mostly science fiction and fantasy stories.

Earl has published stories in SAY...WHAT’S THE COMBINATION?, MORNINGSTAR ANTHOLOGY and KENTUCKY BLUE.

The Sunflower

(Photo by Brett Trafford)


THE SUNFLOWER

Hello my beautiful sunflower
It really is a gorgeous day
And seeing your golden head waving above the garden
Gives me reason to pause and reflect

You are never fussy, never complaining
Seeming to be happy with any amount of food or water I supply
Turning your majestic petals to follow the sun
But occasionally wilting into a bow or curtsy

Standing tall at the entrance to the garden
Some people may seem not to notice
But you call for attention in many subtle ways
Giving surprised growth with each passing day

And when your time has finally come
To fade into the autumn
You continue to give happiness as well as nourishment
For the happy song birds of fall

Advanced Writers - 3rd Week Challenge

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We have completed 2 classes for the new advanced writers' workshop. A huge thank-you to Charles Semones for being our guest speaker last night.

Last night's jump start was divided into 3 parts. For the jump start, we were asked to:

1.) List 10 "powerful" or "strong" words.

2.) From our list of 10 words, write 5 sentences using 5 of the words.

3.) Finally, select one sentence and use it in a paragraph.

Sounds difficult, but breaking it down into 3 steps was very helpful.


Now, for the 3rd Week Challenge - Tony has asked us to think about this challenge for a few days before we start to write:

What is your earliest memory? Try to be as specific as possible and write at least 2 pages. Bring copies next week to share with the class.

Also, type up the paragraph we wrote from last night.

See ya next week Ink Blots! I'm going to leave you with a quote from Mark Twain as recited to us by Charles:

"The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter — 'tis the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning."

Shadows

(Photo by Sabrina of Nouns Make Verbs)

SHADOWS

Shadows come and shadows go
On a sunny day
Dancing, jumping, twirling, skipping
Happy all the way

You always have a friend close by
When the sun is shining
A shadow makes the perfect pal
You never hear no whining

Some may say that shadows are
For the young at heart
But take it from me, tho' I may be old
My shadow is my precious part

The Long Shadows

(Photograph by Highlander)

THE LONG SHADOWS

The long shadows are settling across the meadow floor
Whispering the promises for the end of the day
Dodging and weaving over shrubbery and trees
As one last glance of vivid green grass is seen

What does the night hold when the shadows let go
And the darkness creeps upon the land
What undying pledge do the shadows now make
To get us through till the end

.

Spirituality

SPIRITUALITY

When I was a young girl, I went to church every Sunday with my grandmother, Ella Belle. We always sat on the piano side, five rows up from the front. I loved listening to Granny sing the old time hymns and I would try and imitate her, even when I was too young to read the lyrics. But Granny didn’t show her religion only at church on Sunday – she worshipped God every day no matter where she was. I was in Granny’s gardens I learned a valuable life lesson:

You don’t have to be in a church to feel spiritual.

Spirituality is a feeling – your special relationship with God because He is with us every minute of every day – not just on Sundays from 11 o’clock until noon.


(Advanced writers' workshop - jump start)

I BELIEVE

I BELIEVE

I believe in unconditional love - for a child, a spouse, even a wayward niece like mine.

I believe there is something after death - but I'm not sure if it's heaven or hell, maybe a combination of both.

I believe in one great creator - but who really knows if it's God or Goddess or Ali or Who?

I believe in happiness - even though sometimes it may be very far from my life; I do have happy moments to look back on.

I believe in romantic love - the kind I feel for my hubby; it may not always be sizzling hot, but it is comfortable and just for us.

I believe in time because I see it marching across my face, I see it in my collection of daily journels, I see it in the progression of my children.

I believe in the constant seasons - though changing as they may; from fall to winter, spring to summer, they always come back again.

I believe in the moon to guide my lonely nights - the same continual glow and company my ancestors did enjoy.

I believe in the stars above for they have forseen the way - long before the lowly race of humans was a twinkle in someone's eye.

I believe in the sun who keeps us all alive - providing warmth and growing energy, the sun will see us through.

I believe ...

I really believe ...

Advanced Writer 2nd Week Challenge

Last night's first meeting of the Advanced Writer Workshop went smoothly with 7 people attending.

After introductions and greetings, Tony went over the objectives for the class:

1.) Refining our writing skills and looking at publication possibilities.

2.) Working on the process of revision.

3.) Listening to, learning from and talking with seasoned writers who have had work published.

4.) Discussing goals, ideas and inspirations.

Last night's "Jump Start" exercise will turn into the assignment for next week. We were asked to write a complete story with at least two characters and a point or moral in 150 words are less. This was our jumping off point and was to help us hone in on our characters and moral.

Over the week we are to work on this story and bring it back next week as a complete revision not exceeding 150 words.

Good luck to everyone and we'll see you next week!

The Barnyard Goddess and Flying Monkeys

Continuing on with the theme I started on Friday, the Kentucky Writers’ Celebration spilled over into the weekend. It has definitely been a busy weekend for Kentucky writers.

On Saturday a few people from my writing group attended the celebration at Penn’s Store in Gravel Switch. Penn's Store is the oldest country store in America being run continuously by the same family. This is the same store that is famous for the Great Outhouse Blowout in the fall.

Although I have been a writer most of my life, I am still terrified to read in public. I have been pushing myself more and more because everyone says it will get easier – let me tell you, it doesn’t get easier! This weekend I was in good company, because two of my friends are as scared of public readings as I am, but my friend Tammy found a coping mechanism to help her.

Enter the Barnyard Goddess, stage left …

Tammy thought dressing as someone other than herself would help her get through her readings and she was absolutely right! Dressed in her blue jean overalls complete with gold glitter sprayed boots and a barnyard tiara, Tammy did a wonderful job of reading her great story “Ponies on the Patio” and two poems. She won the crowd over instantly and we were all so proud of her! To check out some of Tammy's writing, see her bi-monthly column in the Advocate Messenger - Hillybilly Zen.

Of course, the funniest thing of the whole day was when the “tornado” blew through the holler. The emcee of the event was Herschel, also a member of our writing group, and although he had been talking to the crowd all day, he waited to read his poems with our group. There had been a gentle breeze all afternoon, but just as Herschel stepped up on the stage to begin his reading, the wind started to blow like there was no tomorrow! I swear I saw an old woman on a bike with a little dog in a basket and I told someone, “If we see flying monkeys, I’m outta here!” The wind blew the microphones over, as well as the big umbrella shading the speakers.

And then the wind calmed back down just like nothing had ever happened. I know it wasn’t Herschel’s reading because this man has such a great voice – hell, I could listen to him reading the phone book and be enthralled!

We made it through the rest of the day – and yes, I did get up and read, although I read two poems instead of the longer story I had planned. I didn’t want to take any chances on the wind blowing me to Oz.

The Meadow Soul

THE MEADOW SOUL

His eyes were watching - looking at everything in the tiny meadow. Silent whispers gently blow on the cool morning air as mist rose from the dew-kissed ground. Another beautiful day is dawning and the forest creatures are starting to stir, inching out of burrows and holes and brambles looking for an early morning meal.

"Good morning my pretties; another gorgeous day is upon you," whispered the old soul as he looked at his creations.

The pond water rippled with fish stirred waves and dragonfly kisses. Momma birds chirped merrily as they waited for Papa birds to bring the fat red worms to the masses in the nest.

A doe inched out from the forest with a trembly legged fawn close in step, crunching the fresh meadow grass. Rabbits were hopping with tentative hops and stopping to much on dainty pink clover blossoms. A small red fox with his bushy tail straight in the air, pauses to drink from the crystal clear pond.

"This is good," sighed the soul, deep in contemplation of the bounty of nature's beauty.

The sun begins to break the horizon, sending multi-colored sunbursts through the clouds and fog. For one brief moment the tiny meadow and pond are a kaleidoscope of dancing colors.

Then the mist seeps away and the fog begins to lift. The soul again looks on the peacefulness of the surroundings.

"This is good," he whispers one last time before ascending away with the fog.

Advanced Writers Class

Just a reminder to all members of The Mercer Community of Writers, or anyone else interested in writing - tonight is the first class of Tony Sexton's new Advanced Writers Workshop, 6 pm at the Mercer Public Library Meeting Room.

This class will meet each Tuesday from 6 - 8 pm and are free and open to the public.

April Showers Bring May Flowers

April Showers Bring May Flowers
By Bobbi Rightmyer

May flowers are now pushing up through the moist soil,
Spurred on by generous April rains and the beginning of summer sun,
Delighting the sight and other senses
Capturing a gardener's imagination.



Peonies are the elders, hold-overs from gardens gone by,
Straight red stems lead to the formation of glossy green leaves,
Large sugar ants invade the tightly curled buds
Offering pollination that ends with a cornucopia of colors and textures.



Daylilies wave daintily with the sun-drenched breeze,
Blossoms of yellow, orange, red and pink high above blades of beautiful green foliage.
Although the flowers only bloom for a day,
They offer a dash of color as well as tasty additions to salads.



Iris come in many sizes, textures and shapes.
Repeat bloomers, ruffled edges, Siberian and miniatures ones, not to mention those with encrusted beards.
Practically growing above the ground, this faithful perennial is a staple in many home gardens,
And Iris' make the perfect "pass along plant" to share with family and friends.



Dandelions always receive a bad rap from people who see them as weeds,
But I know the truth of their nutritional value and every day uses.
The leaves contain many good vitamins and make the perfect addition to summer salads,
And the buds can be brewed into tasty oils and vinegars and fermented into dandelion wine.



Although not a flower, there is one May occupant that rows in rampant abundance,
The vivid green grasses supplying the backdrop for all the colorful posies.
From thick lush lawns to ornamental focal points,
It would not be May without this hardworking carpet of green.



Some tulips are still blooming tho` most are now passed peak,
And daffodil leaves are still standing tall, preparing the nourishment for the underground bulbs.
Apple and pear blossoms have all blown away, setting the stage for the fruit to come.
But the snowball bush is preparing to shine as the branches are laden with fluffy while balls.

May flowers give us Mother Nature's finest show,
Sparking the desire to work outdoors.
Planning and plotting to decide what to plant
To add variety for a more beautiful display next year.

Poetry Slam

Thursday night, April 17th, Mercer County Senior High School hosted a Poetry/Prose Coffee House in honor of National Poetry Month and Kentucky Writer's Day. The 2nd annual "Poetry Slam" was a great stage for accomplished writers and budding poets.

The Poetry Slam was organized by Betty Dean and Roni Gilpin.


The first person to read was Mercer County's very own celebrity author, Charles Semones. Charles read 3 poems: "Lethargy," "Wildflowers" and "Caine's Landing."


Tony Sexton is the leader of the Mercer County Community of Writers - Nomadic Ink - and he also conducts writing workshops throughout the year. Tony read "The Shoeshine Man" and "For the Students."


Earl Dean read an excerpt from his upcoming novella, "A Tailor Maiden's Secret." Watch this blog for updates on the publication of this young adult novella.


Taylor Griggs, MCSH, read an original poem.


William Crawford, MCSH, recited "Annabel Lee" - by Edgar Allan Poe - and read two original poems: "Lifeless Living" and "Love and Roses."


Kesha Bauer, MCSH, read 2 original poems: "Finally You Go" and "Phase Me."


Morgan Strautz, MCSH, read several original poems including "My Life" and "Road Not Taken."


Marian Bauer - Bauer House in Harrodsburg - is a wonderful storyteller and she related the story of "The Raggedy Man."


Christine Rightmyer, MCSH, read an original poem "Symbol of Death."

WONDERFUL NEWS

I have such WONDERFUL NEWS !!! My sweet baby received her acceptance letter today from the Governor's School of the Arts !!!

HAPPY DANCE, HAPPY DANCE !!!

Out of over 1,600 applicants from Kentucky students, she was one of 200 to be accepted into the summer Creative Writing Program.

She will be leaving the day after my oldest daughter's wedding, June 21st and will spend 3 weeks at Transy.

To say her Daddy and I are proud is a total understatement. This is something our entire family has been praying about since just before Christmas. To finally have the acceptance letter in hand is pure excitement.

The Hummingbird

(Photo by Jim Pankey "WildSpirit")

THE HUMMINGBIRD

Little hummingbird, you mean the return of spring to me
Hovering daintily over the honeysuckle vine
Dipping and weaving, soaring and floating
Frontwards or backwards you are full of energy I would love to harness
Seeking out nectar to fuel your course
You help to pollinate nature's beautiful world
Seeking out blossoms of red, orange, and bright pink
But many don't know you find nectar incomplete and supplement your ravenous diet with spiders and insects met along the way
Most people think you fly all day
But little hummingbird, I know the truth,
From watching you linger on the branch of a pine tree, or settled quietly in your nest, you spend far more time relaxing than flitting about
So welcome spring, welcome warmth
And welcome my dainty little hummingbird

May Flowers

SYMBOL OF DEATH

By Christine Rightmyer
4.13.09

As my head slipped underwater,
All I could see were the lilies.
They call them the symbol of death…
Wouldn’t you agree?

The symbol of everything I wanted.
Wanting to slip away and never come back
The water closed in around me.
Wrapping its cool fingers over my body…

That was all I wanted, except…
You pulled me up before my time was gone.
Your fingers gripped my shoulders, eyes bearing into me.
The lilies were now gone, but you were here to stay.