Thursday, April 24, 2014

Poem A Day: Inspired by Sentence

Today I am offering the prompt over at the Imaginary Garden.  I chose the random fate of finding serendipity in a dropped book.   There is a scene in one of my favorite Indie flicks,  Next Stop Wonderland, starring the late Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Hope Davis.  The main character Erin is in a bookstore and drops a book.




Bookseller: (after Erin Castleton has dropped the book) : Don't close it. You should never close a book until you've read something from it.

Erin Castleton: What?

Bookseller: Well, just a sentence or a word. It can be very, very revealing. Just read something, anything. Well, read from the top, then.



I dropped Anne Lamott's book, Bird by Bird. 


On the page I noticed this paragraph and one sentence stood out:

Anne is writing about Faulkner's books.   He expresses life through his characters. All you can give us is what life is about from your point of view.   You are not going to be able to give us the plans to the submarine. 

My sentence is:
"Life is not a submarine." 


I'm Crying

Beatles fell off
 blackbird's broken wings
I'm crying...

I'm crying


Tangerine skies
shine on cellophane pretty maids
all in a row

giving you the wrong medicine
I'm crying
where did you 
go
You are my yellow submarine
No pigs don't fly
I'm crying...

hold me
love me
tell me
it's alright
I'm crying...


Your beautiful
I saw you on Abbey Road
you said Let It Be
it's been a
and I'm crying...


Ellen Wilson


I had an adverse reaction to my meds. Yes, I need Help-"I appreciate you being round."

I have taken the same meds for fifteen years and was recently prescribed the generic version! 

My symptoms:  Headaches, nausea, fever and dizzy-that's me~
Oh, and the meds they give me for the dizziness-says warning on the bottle:  May cause dizziness?!







Saturday, April 19, 2014

Avant-Edge: Sam's Challenge

Sam inspired us to attempt a poem in the style of  (e.e. cummings).   Do I dare attempt this challenge?  Sure, why not...Thanks Sam, for pushing me towards the Edge!~



S#7


a clothesline of stars blankets 
b
l
a
c
k
 be
r
r
                                                                        ( sk )Y


(b)raille Soaked rooTs  tAngled in moleculaR light
w
a
i
t
(ing)

gray garden's seeds
fall like feathers
tossed
in third eye's: d
                    r
                   e
                   a
                  m
                  

wIshing
 cosmic fingerprints
wake
my (muse)
to wit
n
e
s
petroglyphs                

as
4)winds
change
wheel of fortune
spins
)internal( tick tock)
12,000 windows
o
pen
concentric
ripple(s)
catch silver tears.






Thursday, April 17, 2014

Creative Walls

Update on Project Myway:   I finished the costume for my daughter, but all the other girls were wearing plain white dresses.   So, I caved and ordered a dress online at Charlotte Russe.  I guess the ice blue eye shadow, white make up and glitter on their faces will be their element of design-outside of their performance.  You have to know when to fold them.  My daughter apologized and thanked me again and again.
 Oh, well...I tried.



Over at the Imaginary Garden -I offered today's prompt.   I was inspired by Geraldine James and her book,
Creative Walls.


If you are a collector you will love how she has gathered and arranged items to tell a story.  The book showcases many styles and art forms.  If you are curious-you can see more imagines here.  


"My passion has always been creating beauty from nothing."
-Geraldine James


I wrote about my parents.  Here is some gathered items- I am considering putting on a wall in my new creative space.   They met at a local movie theater, when they were teens.


A Gift Beyond the Grave

Under a canopy of stars
 their eyes met
blue curtains ushered Kodachrome dreams
faces of comedy and drama
entertainment for all
at 16 he gave his African Queen
an elephant
promising the world
A magician with a clown's grin
 he spliced magic
from  tin cans

She became Paramount proud
to wear his ring 
She resembled 
the Columbia gal




Peyton Place was filmed nearby
as her elephant
collection grew
he collected stars
a red one by day and silver ones at night
tickets to a Time Machine
aligned their world.

When he died-suddenly 
beyond the grave he gave
 her one last gift
to complete her collection.
She was upset
Why this elephant?

Why not I said...
You sat on this elephant at Perry's Nut House
 when young
You met him under the stars
it's perfect 
Everyone comes to see 
an elephant under an umbrella of stars



but they don't know your story....
but they do now!



True story!  Last year I emailed a tidbit about my parents to the local newspaper.  This is my father on the front page.  When I received an email saying they were interested in doing the story-my mom  hesitated to proceed.  I said, "I asked your permission before I did this and you agreed.   It is your call, but this woman wants to come see you and seems really sweet.  I  forwarded the email and it was out of my hands.   She called me up and told me the reporter was coming on Monday.  I waited with bated breath on that day for the phone to ring.  When it did I asked well, "How did it go?"  

She was talking fast, "YOU won't believe this."
"Try me,"  I laughed.
"She arrived on time and I invited her in.  She noticed my elephant collection and we talked about them-how I never have bought one. Elephants always  are given to me.   Then I answered her questions and showed her some photos.  She took two with her.  Then I asked her if she grew up in the area.  She had.  Her mother use to work at the clothing store you worked at in college.  I didn't recognize the  last name.  We are related."

"WHAT?"

"The reporter is my mother's brother's grand daughter!"

Tis true my email lead to three featured stories, my parents, how the elephant ended upat the theater,  and the reporter sharing her story on how my tip lead to family. 
When I go home we are planning a family photo near the elephant!  Yes, beyond the stars I think my father is winking and chuckling and saying,
"An elephant never forgets."

  

Monday, April 14, 2014

Project Runway

I was selected to be on next year's Project Runway.  Can you believe it?   I pinched myself and started shaking!  It is a shock and a dream,  and I screamed when I got the news!     Me, no way....




That is right!  I am still screaming-April Fool!!!!   I am the fool, though.  My daughter has a Colorguard performance next month.  It is called, On Thin Ice.   Guess who is on thin ice....me!   She announced she needed her costume, for this Wednesday's dress rehearsal.   "What?"   I started shaking, next hives popped out like cherry dots and my head started to spin.   I felt like Linda Blair in the Exorcist.   I want to shake her and scream.   I felt like I couldn't breathe and a full throttle panic attack  was coming on.   We have gone around this outfit for months.  I ordered a white drapey outfit, but it is plain and needs to be upcycled into a vision.  I was original told, stormy winter colors...gray, white, silver, and stormy blue,  Fishermen knit gloves, leggings and tights.   BUT now, it is FROZEN GLAM!   I am gasping for air at this point. "Are you kidding me?"  



I have a great relationship with my daughter, but not when it comes to costumes.  We are more like Patricia and Stanley from Season 11.   Patricia is arts n' crafty and Stanley is a bit rigid in his design.  Yes, I have been in the attic to collect Christmas items I can tear apart-not a lot of luck there.  The Project Runway feel started yesterday when my husband dropped me off at the entrance of a  big box store.  He said he would wait in the truck and I had so many minutes.  I wish I was shopping at MOOD. I can hear Tim Gunn say, "Make it work."  

 I am sitting here with a pile of fabric, feathers, snowflake buttons and rhinestones.  I want to pull my hair out...but I'm lacking in that department.   Yes, I am the fool On Thin Ice.  My daughter knows want she doesn't want, but I have to pull teeth to get her to tell me what she would like.  We have a long history of costume drama. It started at age three, when she decided she didn't want to be Minnie Mouse for Halloween.  Her exact words were, "I'm not wearing that."   WE agree on most everything, but not costumes.  I had this cute black dress with polka dots in rainbow colors, adorable shoes and of course the ears.  I had the makeup  to add the nose-but noooooo.   Instead I dressed her all in pink and said, "You are Barbie."  This is the girl who at this age told me she wanted pink hair.


I want to say a  Big Thank you to DL Hammons and the  Blog Blitzing crew~!!  Go here if you want to join in on the fun!  It was amazing and wonderful to be selected, but I was sad my internet was down-another April Fool on me.  Our ISP sent out the big trucks(see photo-we had another one up on the corner of our street arrive later).  It has been lagging for days  and then gone.  I was beyond touched by all the lovely comments.  I promise I  will visit all of you, once the costume drama is complete.   I felt bad, too about NaPoWriMo, but family comes first.  This is, fingers crossed my last costume to make. I didn't say never...    Daughter will graduate this June from high school-yeah!   So, I must remember now that the wave of panic has gone to enJOY this last costume-and make it magical!




Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Abode

Helen asked us to write about our home.  

"Today's challenge ~ compose a brand new poem 
about your home, its idiosyncrasies, its personality!"
(Yes it does have one!)  

~Thanks Helen~






Humble Abode



Tree house inside out
gathered moss, fragile petals feather
oak n' pine doors
align day's sails
sunlight bleaches n' paints the walls
blurs the stained
deck to bounce light
resembling a kissed peach
 breezy blue blankets
hold lavender dreams
comfort's key found in
brown portal couch
as Serenity candles glow 
holding the fort of memories
in an apothecary full of stars.



I have had sinus issues all day, due to the storms swirling around.  I meant to post earlier.
I hope you are safe in your neck of the woods!





Monday, April 7, 2014

NaPoWriMo

Today is Open Link Monday, in the Garden.  

I bought some flowers to plant-this Anemone intrigued me.  As I took photos, I noticed her petals were falling off-the wind was fluffing her skirt.   I found out this beauty's nickname is 'Wind Flower'.






JUICY COUTURE

Purple princess
swing dances 
with golden Eye Walker
whispers of papered wings
align with wind's wheel of fortune




Thunder adds the drum
  piano pounds out a wild, wet movie score
her skirt lifts as wind
caresses her green stems
tossing her into gray torrent sea
her eye holds prehistoric wisdom
 as her fragile wings
flutter to catch Eagle's pride.



Winged beatniks gather round n' cheer
as gossamer twirls her
 knockoff design
inspired by Christian Dior
fingerprints of light prove
Miss Spyder's skill set wins her
 Project Earthway.



Spring's needle stings
as Spyder tailors ripped vision
bold wind stomps off
 aloof diva mood-no surprise
He an April kinda fool
Spyder knows her skill set
her prized embroidery
 sun soaked n' glam
like a bird's nest lightly woven
 looping threads
designed by 
Calvin Moss n' Coco Soleil.

©Ellen Wilson














Sunday, April 6, 2014

Sundays

Kenia asked us to write about Sundays.  I thought of my childhood Sundays. There was a regimented  routine, church,  lunch and a long drive.   My Sundays now have a different rhythm-but there is always a peaceful ease about them, when the afternoon arrives.


NEVER ON A SUNDAY


Sunshine tickles me
green wisdom whistles
I pour courage as
muffled voices
n' feet shuffle
 gate opens my
gray garden
Thanks Earl...

Blueberry pillows piled with syrup
saturate mood
I curl up cat like as hound
hovers for his treat
Let's go-honks military mad man
home improvement wishes and 
Iced coffee dreams

Muse hides
Never on a Sunday do I paint
sepia plates of strawberry 
whispers
Music blares
daughter singing Cameo Lover
I join in
folding clothes
I decorate my beagle
he chases me until indigo curtain
falls
Constellation court opens
flag of memories rise
waiting for next Saturday.




Saturday, April 5, 2014

Mirror, Mirror



Grace asked us for a Mirror, Mirror poem.  I avoid mirrors these days.  I hate my hair.  I don't even feel like me.  People stare at me.  Yesterday,  was the first time I went to a social gathering, since my accident.  Yes, I said this has to end.  Life must move forward-so I went to the Art Walk. I was so nervous I forgot my chalk to write poems on the sidewalk.  It is just as well, there were so may people I would of been trampled.  A yellow piano sat outside and had a sign, 'Play Me'-and people did.  There was a fire blower on another street corner, a band performing at the other end of the street.   I saw Go Go dancers dressed like it was the 1960s-they had white boots and some Steampunk  outfits.  The craziest place was a travel agency. They had a jungle maze in the back with stuffed animals and vines. The vines were huge and draped over you, it was narrow and kind of creepy.  


Mirror, Mirror on the wall
I feel  kind of small
I see new relatives in your view
I look like two cousins I barely knew
My father's widow peak is there
Hey Dad, I still have some black hair

Shocking to look myself in the eyes
I miss my long hair-my disguise
I have Samson tendencies, I do
I miss the girls from Starbucks-the iced brew

I have been a hermit, too long
its time to move forward into my song
I need to dance and find joy
I never wanted to look like a boy

Life tossed me a game of shock
I wish I was home-on my timeworn dock
Chia pet is my new nickname
I know how that sounds-kinda lame.

Okay, I need to stop being Dr. Seuss
I'm no swan-more like Mother Goose.
My spirit says paint a new view
I know stop writing about the color blue. 
Look at your inside out
 then go live, dream and shout
You are  still inside there-
remember it is just hair. 


Friday, April 4, 2014

Postmark: Poetry!

Fireblossom asked us to write a letter.  


"Hey Toads! In this age of email and texting, it's easy to forget about sending a letter the old-fashioned way. So let's play Post Office! Write me a poem that includes a letter, or stamps, or a mailbox, or a mail person."


Dear Blue Eyes, 

I miss your strong arms
your slate black blue hair with a touch of curly white 
you made my heart pound with yours- drumming
your tune into horizon's mirror
Night's lantern of silver pockmarks your faith 
yet you rocked the sails of dreamers-everywhere
I miss your cologne-a blend of sunshine, sea salt and evergreen

Remember our first kiss
me in my blueberry swimsuit running into your arms
you wore that denim shirt with pearl buttons
your kiss wet and tender made me forever smile
I long to hear you sing in wind's tunnel
your voice roared as the Opera swirls
your eyes emerged cloudy some days
as we walked hand n' heart along the shoal of whispers 
flickers of wings always announce my return
I cherish the sculpted turquoise shard
you made me

I found your message in a bottle
inky black depth revealed a poetic
blue moon
Your cosmic grace holds my deepest secrets
as I cast wishes into your tears
your symphony vibrates me
I know saffron sun paints your many moods
 your celebrity status is world known
your physics of glory weighs on my mind
until I return to you
my perennial blue.

Sincerely yours,
Ella







Thursday, April 3, 2014

Avant-Edge: Innocence and Experience

Sam challenged us to write about what moves and inspires us.   He also offered questions-which made us think when poetry opened its door to us.   It was fourth grade when my life  suddenly changed.  My teacher-Mrs. Moody read e.e. Cummings' poem the  'Day of Innocence'.  The final bell of the day had rang and everyone scurried gathering their coats, lunch boxes and books.  I was a walker and I wanted to write down the lines of the poem that had touched me.  My teacher looked at me, her cloud of gray hair tilted and she smiled, "Ellen, what are you writing, the bell rang you can go home?"    I shook my head no-I felt like I was in a trance.

"I know, but this poem paints spring and I want to take it home."  She told me we would be reading more of his work in class and she could make me a copy.   I was smitten with his insight.  The fourth grade was a defining year for me.  Poetry entered my world and I won an art contest painting a still life- bowl of fruit.  I had to compete with my class, the fifth and six graders-and won. This was when my parents recognized I had some talent.  The portal had been opened by luscious mud, a goat-footed balloonMan- and a bowl of fruit.


Thank you Sam-nature inspires me the most.




The Wedding

At night Topaz Queen mends her arch of blue
Grandmother moon perches kisses starfish 
their dreams- a mirror of silver
spiders weave Queen's diamond veil
until morning dew falls

Lone eagle soars to announce the union
Topaz Queen mingles with Cloud people
kisses her Grandmother goodnight
a line dance of wings squawks n' sings
Topaz begins her walk down the aisle
event hidden by divine law
her smile like honey melts hearts
up rushing wings gather her train
wind blows the Queen's family kisses
hills decorated with purple clover wink 
she holds her man's hand
caressing his velvet brown shoulders
staring into his lipid sea green eyes
his vest borrowed from a clothesline
of green fingers

 Rainfall mingles n' blends her gift- perfume
of Lily of the Valley, Sandalwood n' moss 
Something old, new, borrowed and blue
from the glaciers 
an Aquamarine bridge marvels 
Beargrass to bloom 
her bouquet

Queen whispers to wind: touch him, when I can't
due to meetings with  Cloud people
applause of leaves and arched trees bough n' sway
confetti cherry blossom cheer falls
Groom shakes his green mantle 
 they lock hands.

Witness their union's masterpiece
 of crimson, mauve pink and glowing embers
of orange. 
Passion dances until
indigo curtain falls
owl n' wolf clean up 
stragglers
Mocking bird is reminded it's a secret
it's a secret
We celebrate with a slice of time's cake 
their sacred union-a gift for all. 

©Ellen Wilson






Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Taking it to the Streets

Susie inspired us to share a street poem.  She is tempting me to take chalk to the Art Walk on Friday.  I just might-leave a pastel poetic scavenger hunt.  I'll let you know-if I dare become a Guerrilla poet.
My poem is called DNA. Dare to do Numerous Art-



Tuesday, April 1, 2014

NaPoWriMo-Word Count with Mama Zen

Am I really going to attempt this?  Thirty days of  poetry?!   I will miss the A-Z Blogging Challenge-I still hope to drop by and cheer some of you on!   Mama Zen took it easy on us, after shocking us with this April Fool prompt:  


Greetings, Toads!

Today, I would like you to write a double inverse Venetian sonnet using the traditional hexatonic goatameter. Your piece must include two nuns, a priest, a gopher, and a space / time paradox.  Please address either universal health care or twerking in the volta.

April Fool's!

How about you just surprise me . . . in 37 words or less.


It is April Fool-did you fool anyone, yet?!  I might just do this.




BLUE'S CLUES


Blue Man group's ancestors
met with designers
left Delft blueprints 
porcelain pride lingers
proud peacocks strut catwalk
wolf whistles ensue
Yes, Henny Penny the sky fell
on clothing-who cares what the fox said!

 ©Ellen Wilson