Thursday, June 18, 2009

Summer by JL Denman 2009

Summer

breezes breathe over green grass blades.
Yellow and red poppies play in the field
children in short frilly pastel plaid tops & bottoms dig in fresh dirt

Afternoon birds chirp in full flowered branches
Puppies cuddly puppy dos wag excited tails
Sun tanned boys in frayed baseball caps toss sticks and play fetch

Ice cream truck bells chime in the distance
grandmothers in housecoats fumble for change
Pre-teen hipsters blare hot summer tunes from antiquated boom boxes

5 o' clock chimes on the mantel clock over the dormant fireplace
drivers & pedestrians rush home through clogged avenues
fingers dial the local pizza shops and settle to movies with loved ones on the sofa

Summer is
that breathe
that comfy cushion
that breeze
that ice cream
that old familiar safety of Granny or Nanna
that deep in take
that sweet exhale
that subtle miraculous instant when nothing matters so much as that fresh, crisp, ice cold glass of water or that first delicious long pull on that cherry red and pineapple white and blueberry blue Fire cracker popcicle.

Summer... it's the aahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh after the storm.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Writing Challenge quick response

Over in Writing Challenge group they had this picture ( by Rain Walk) posted. It was supposed to inspire a free write. This is what came to mind--

-------------throw me from the bell tower but don't break my heart. It's not too far down, but heartbreak is too hard inside. I can float on air, the splat at the end won't matter. But I can't breath without you. My heart would burst into a thousand pieces. throw me from the bell tower, just don't kill me slowly with rejection.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Scribd

I read over on Mary's blog about Scribd. I just wanted to try it out. So I uploaded three pieces. Here is the url. http://www.scribd.com/share/upload/12809453/24ph5dfa6tfnzuxhqume

Make sure to stop by Mary's page!

Fickle FInger of Fate

The fickle finger of fate drew in my sand
round and strong
straight and bold
It connected crazy dots
dots like dog poo on the side of the road next to the freight train that ran over the bird that the dog was chasing.
The fickle finger of fate swirled around a purple stone and made a moat. Miniature and dirty muddy brown from the rain water that fell off of the roof to the stream down the gutter to the ditch dug by the dastardly dog that pooed by the train, the same puddle that some neighbor child stomped in right before that muddy brown drop splashed into the moat around the purple rock.
The fickle finger of fate scratched its nails down the sloping mounds of playground sand. It created tunnels, channels where reddened leaves rolled down in autumn races like maple red chariots. They crossed the path where the purple stone lay surrounded by a brown moat. The rumpled leaves scuttled to the finish line by the other side of the sandbox. they settled first the red, then the red-Orange, then the burnt orange- first , second, third place at the wooden finish line of fate. Three wrenched from tree limbs by wet downpour that hit the roof that splashed down the gutter into the puddle of poo made by the dog that chomped on a bird run over by a train that kicked up the purple rock that fate moated that filled with the same muddy water. Now, these reddened leaves three, plastered with race sweat from running down the channels that crossed the rock that fate scratched were smothered against the log from the tree that lent its bough to build the sandbox where fickle fate's finger drew in my sand.

*free write based on prompt*

Monday, June 15, 2009

The Devil's Friends by JL Denman 2009

The Devil's Friends

Come in packs
devour in hordes
sabotage en mass.

The Devil's friends rip and tear
scream and howl
beat and pulverize

The Devil's friends ain't no friends of mine
ain't no friends of yours
ain't no friends at all

The Devil's friends:
Depression -rides on black wings of Hopelessness
Envy- strides on the stones of cobbled Insecurity
Violence- wars from the back of elephantine Greed
Isolation- prances on the cold headstones of Rejection and Fear
Lasciviousness- sidles forth on silken sheets of Inadequacy

The Devil's Friends
ain't no friends at all

Friday, June 12, 2009

365 pic challenge

I started a new blog here in Blogger for the 3654 photo challenge. Feel free to visit.

I am finding this lovely that you can have several blogs from one account here at Blogger! very convenient. :) Here is the new link http://jldenman365challenge.blogspot.com/

Sunday, June 7, 2009

It came in a box by JL Denman 2009

It came in a box

It came in a box. Beating, dripping, oozing red rivers.
It came in a bow, blackened, burnt, hardly living.
It came in a bow, shredded, stabbed, honing by two veins of hope.

I gave it to you
No, you found it
Maybe it was cosmic intervention that sent you on the trail searching for the devastated mess trapped in a strong box of bone and metal and jagged spikes of pain.

Somewhere out there, buried under rubble, drowned in hot tar, bound by terrible marsh roots it hunkered.
But through rivers festering with black mosquitoes, jungle snakes, poisoned reptiles, wicked wizards in too green garb marred by to sick vomit, you traversed. You crept. You slouched. You charged. You searched and looked and scoured.

I gave it to you
No, you found it.
Cosmic intervention and your strong will carved out trenches, slaughtered feral beast to find it- it- trapped in the hell of loss, rejection, pain, despair, devastation.

You,
You
you rescued it.
that dripping, lacerated, singed, sliver of my heart left- left nearly destroyed in a box.