Poetry Sunday

come check it out! Today's Sunday Flash Fiction has turned into a poetry fest at Silver EXpressions!

The original theme was weather--and I thought that was hot. But all the poetry it's inspired is truly awesome.

A little less awesome, but perfect for this very sunny Summer Sunday, is one of my own poems, posted below. And if, after reading it, you feel like you just have to have this wonderful poem to read over and over again (yeah, I know I'm tripping, right? Think maybe somebody laced my iced tea or something? *g*) you can download it, and a whole bunch of others right HERE Enjoy!


Boys at the pool crash through sparkling water, push each other under,
come up splutteringsplashing, water dripping from their long, long lashes.
Teeth flashing giant smiles, they toss, or try to toss, each other
through the air. Then push each other under, once again.

Water is the perfect medium in which to play
adding grace and speed and power to their movements.
They immerse themselves entirely without ever losing sight
of who they are, or where the water ends and they begin.

Girls at the pool –– at play –– they bob and sway. They weave
their way through intricate dances, set to music only they can hear.
They pause. Engage in conversation. Bask in mutual admiration.
Exchange encoded messages bubbled in each other’s ears.

They float. They leap and dive. They look like large enchanted flowers,
like rainbow painted porpoises at play.
In this turquoise–colored, sunscreen–scented, chlorinated otherworld
they are set free.

Now the boys: a roiling, rollicking mass, lurch through the pool
like a piston driven steam engine gone wild
arms and legs churn the water, waves erupt around them
pushing everything out of their path.

Girls scatter like a flock of birds.
Some––bursting into tears––emit small, wounded cries.
Some shrieking in mock terror while joy sparkles in their eyes.
Frowns crease the flower faces: They dare not approve such rude behavior.

They’re still too young to be enchanted by the boys’ antics.
The boys, too young to care, too young to charm,
too young to yearn to be entangled
in their floating coils of hair.

Indifferent to the differences that link them.
Their lives as magnets have not yet begun.
For now, the boys recede. The girls resume their labyrinth patterns.
Water ebbs and swells and ripples all around.

On the dancing waves,
time has cast a silver net
to capture them all


Let me Eat Cake: A Cautionary Tale for Writers

I suppose I should know better than to blog on an empty stomach. Weird things happen when I do. Perfectly ordinary posts about morally ambiguous heroes (and why I don't like them) turn into odes about--of all things--cake.

Yes, I said cake. How are men like cake? What kinds of men are like cake--and what kinds of cake are they like? Well, you can find the whole post by visiting the Nine Naughty Novelists. Better eat something first!


Wacky Wedding Stories

If you like weddings and you like entertainment, check out the Nine Naughty Novelists.

We're blogging today about wedding/anniversary stories. We've got music, pictures, videos...okay, only one of each of those. But still, who knew there could be so much drama? I missed out on so much by eloping. lol!

Stop by and add a story/comment...or links to your own wedding pics, videos, etc.! One lucky commenter will win a copy of Meg Benjamin’s Wedding Bell Blues.

And, just because I love embedding things into blogs--I'm sure it's a huge psychological issue, but let's not get into that. Here's Frank Sinatra singing My Way. 

Why, My Way, you ask? What does this have to do with weddings? Well, aside from the fact that I grew up in Northern New Jersey (AKA Francis Albert land) it so happens this was the song I sang (as part of a drunken duet, if you must know) at the party we had in lieu of a wedding/reception. I  really wasn't kidding about the elopement. My singing partner was not my husband--he doesn't drink...doesn't really sing either. Although, that probably wouldn't have mattered) so much in this case! Anyway...I sang it (while seated on top of a picnic table--really gotta love them) with the boy next door. Technically, the boy across the street.  Whatever.  It was epic. It's such a shame most of the guests were gone by that point...