#Fiction Friday: #Micropoetry from the Book

mormoni

Because Patrick was not,
David was,
& because I loved what David was,
I wondered if that made me a murderer
in my heart.

I was the result not of 2 people
who fell in love in passionate spontaneity,
but of 2 who were foreordained
to “take one another to spouse.”

When my father had passed away,
Mother’s faith had passed away,
& I had been brought up to go my own way.

I saw Elder Johnson as a brother,
Elder Roberts as a beloved–
as spoken in the Song of Solomon–
but the Sisters as anything but.

She had the body of a retired ballerina,
a toothpaste-commercial smile,
& an All-American youthfulness
that made her competition for me.

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #390; Theme: Title of the poem is a music genre

flag-257636_960_720

To ABBA (an apostrophe poem)

You were a break from my childhood
of George Jones and Tammy Wynette,
from the punk rock
my brother would bang out while I tried to study,
a break from the world,
XXXXXmy world,
XXXXXXXXXXmy thoughts.

You were what candy-colored dreams
were made of.
You fought for space inside my head
as I drove the Three Mile Bridge to the beach,
with the balmy gulf breeze blowing in my unhearing ear,
so that the wind was the feel,
and you,
the sound.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-390

 

#Micropoetry Monday: Lawlessness & Disorder

barbed-wire-1899854_960_720

The contents turned to ash,
time blowing away the dust of the past,
degrading the DNA,
so that justice delayed became justice denied.

Jill Ellen Roth had suffered for the sins of their envy,
for being beautiful,
their sloth, for being an overachiever,
their greed, for being wealthy.
To them, they were not because she was.

Her conception of justice birthed a career in law,
but when there was a miscarriage of it
due to a poor delivery,
she wrote a book
& overturned a verdict.

She obeyed the letter of the law,
he, the spirit of the law;
they each broke the other,
canceling each other out.

He was a famous plagiarist,
stealing the words of his betters,
until he wrote the story of his ill-gotten fame,
& his victims became his lessers.

33 Poetry Themes and Forms to Spark Creativity

typewriter-1726000_960_720

Acrostic:  https://sarahleastories.com/2015/04/17/poem-a-day-writers-digest-challenge-16-theme-science/

Apocalypse (There are many ways the world can end; remember, it doesn’t have to be the whole world).

Childhood memories (If you sit and relax, you will remember more than you think you will; it doesn’t hurt to ask family members or old friends what they remember, because we all remember different things.)

Christmastide couplets (or any other holiday–even foolishness like National Donut Day, etc., can spark a verse):  https://sarahleastories.com/2016/12/27/micropoetry-monday-christmastide-couplets/

Current events (These are not my favorite, because they age-out quickly, but they might grab the most attention, as most people like to be “in the now”.)

Education (People like to learn information in new ways; make it entertaining, for even adults like to “learn through play”.)

Ekphrastic (This is a poetic form inspired by a piece of fine art): https://sarahleastories.com/2016/10/12/writers-digest-wednesday-poetry-prompt-371-theme-ekphrastic-poem/

Faith and Spirituality (and extrasensory writing.)

Fairy Tales (especially the compound fractured kind):  https://sarahleastories.com/2016/02/12/writers-digest-wednesday-poetry-prompt-340-theme-finally-or-at-last/

Family Dynamics (or, in my case, my crazy family): https://sarahleastories.com/2016/04/29/poem-a-day-2016-writers-digest-challenge-29-theme-haphazard/

From your own work (a piece can have many incarnations–each can take on a life of its own.  I did this with my novel, Because of Mindy Wiley): https://sarahleastories.com/2016/07/22/fiction-friday-micropoetry-based-on-the-book-2/

Haiku (the perfect balance of brevity and needing a post in a pinch): https://sarahleastories.com/2015/11/24/poem-a-day-writers-digest-challenge-24-theme-love-or-anti-love/

Lawlessness & Disorder (just open your newspaper, peruse cold cases, etc.).

The Lighter Side (humor is always welcome.)

Limerick:  https://sarahleastories.com/2017/02/17/writers-digest-wednesday-poetry-prompt-383-theme-nope/.  The Saturday Evening Post hosts a free limerick contest that’s worth checking out:  http://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/limerick-contest

Love Comes Darkly

Love Story 

Modern Proverbs (list poems or life lessons, in poetic form or with line breaks): https://sarahleastories.com/2016/04/02/poem-a-day-2016-writers-digest-challenge-1-theme-foolish/

Nature (just-so stories are my favorite):  https://sarahleastories.com/2015/04/22/poem-a-day-writers-digest-challenge-22-theme-nature/

Opposites (I like three-line poems where the first two lines are opposites and the third line brings them together in a surprising way.)

Our Beautiful South (or your geography; even overexposed places like Los Angeles, Chicago, and New York have their microcosms): https://sarahleastories.com/2014/03/02/nonet-poems-my-geography/

Pantoum (What I love about this form is that some of the lines repeat): https://sarahleastories.com/2017/02/19/pantoum-poem-an-exercise-in-repetition/

Pet Life (If you’ve never had experience with a pet, don’t worry–there are many animal stories out there.  I love stories about animals who help people, through service or therapy.)

Persona (or “human interest poem”):  https://sarahleastories.com/2016/01/26/writers-digest-wednesday-poetry-prompt-337-theme-persona-poem/

Realms of Motherhood:  https://sarahleastories.com/2014/03/07/the-seven-wonders-of-hannah-an-exercise-in-non-rhyming-poetry/

Reconstruction (People, like buildings, can be torn down and rebuilt.)

Social Media

Thanatology (or any other -ology)

Things We Set on Fire (This was a title of a book that showed up on my Kindle, and I thought it so clever, I’m going to use it as a theme.)

Weapons, and Things that are Hard (Anything can be used as as weapon:  sex, the Internet, wrenches, revolvers, lead pipes, etc.)

What if? (I probably ask myself this question everyday):  https://sarahleastories.com/2016/05/05/writers-digest-wednesday-poetry-prompt-348-theme-when-everything-goes/

Working  (dirty jobs, unusual jobs, etc.):  https://sarahleastories.com/2015/04/10/poem-a-day-writers-digest-challenge-9-theme-work/

The Writer’s Life (Writing about writing doesn’t have to be boring; have fun with play-on words or phrases.)

#Fiction Friday: #Novelines from the Book

mormoni

The distinguished-looking man sat with the woman who would pull the thread that would help me come apart at the seams through an unholy act.

Sister Wiley wore a mask of syrupy sweetness, but the mask didn’t cover her eyes that emitted a cold, calculating glare.

Glancing in Sister Wiley’s direction I saw, as she looked at Mother, something that resembled fear, for Mother’s new faith overshone her old one.

Like the kapps Mennonite women wore, both sexes wore sacred garments under their clothes, where only God could see them.

Mother had never had any use for girlfriends before, & I wondered why she had let Sister Wiley choose to be hers.

I saw something in Elder Roberts then that I often saw in David: tolerance; but it would fail him when I needed it most.

Sister Wiley watched us from across the room, plucking a prune from a pewter platter & taking a bite, smiling that Mona Lisa smile.

David wanted me to go to University, but the Relief Society (or, as Caitlin said, the Sisterhood of the Raveling Dresses) had me rethinking such an endeavor.

The day our Little Miss stopped being a drama princess was the day we would know her personality had finally split.

I’d never seen our secular, nuclear family as isolated, but rather insulated from the world. The Mormons made me see that we were the world.

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #389; Theme: Improvement

light-bulb-984551_960_720

Improvement (is an Inside Job):  In Acrostic

It starts with the self
Minimalism and mindfulness
Productivity over busyness
Recursive reading
Occupational happiness
Variety of experiences
Eat well, pray often, love the one you’re with
Making time, taking time
Endless intellectual curiosity
Not afraid to say no
Thank you, please, and I’m sorry

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-389

Summer in Spring: Love in the Afternoon

summer fun.JPG

Though I love the holiday season with all its glitz and glam, it is the warm season I long for, with its relaxing vibes.  I like to say eighty-two degrees with a breeze is my ideal.  I spend at least three hours a day outside during the summer.  If I could, I would live in a bikini, cover-up, and flip-flops year round, with my hair thrown up into a messy bun (the other kind makes me look bald).  I like not having to warm up the car, or bundle up before going outside, or having to worry about blow-drying my hair after a shower.  Summer is low-maintenance.

I guess you could say I have spring break fever.  I spent the late afternoon sunbathing on a sand-colored fleece blanket on our weedy grass, my neighbor playing “I Hope You Dance” by Lee Ann Womack on the radio.  The late afternoon sun waned as I waxed philosophical, thinking about life’s unanswered questions (like “What exactly is a peanut-butter haircut?” and “If the whole world was naked, would we be skinnier?”), while my  three-year-old daughter fed sticks and leaves to the A/C fan unit.  It was the ultimate relaxation, saturated with sunshine that turned my creamy skin into brown butter.

So often, I’m doing, and I forget to just be.  I didn’t even bring a book to the blanket.  I don’t need constant stimulation.  I was letting myself have some quiet time and my daughter, some unstructured play.  I delight in the way she loves the outdoors, though she still turns into a glassy-eyed zombie with a hearing problem when she plays with our old cell phones.

I suppose that’s why I love the warm so much, because when it’s cold, I don’t spend any more time outside than I have to.  Even bundled up, it’s not comfortable to be wearing so many layers, and fun in the water is out of the question.  I love the season of chocolate bars melting before you get to the car, of ceiling fans cutting through our thick, humid air, and stroller walks at twilight, the smell of meat grilling on the back porch.  As I walk through our neighborhood and pass each house with a lighted window, I think of them as their own separate universes–our neighborhood a solar system.  It’s like walking in space.

While I walk (today, it was while I sprawled), I thought about a butterscotch milkshake I had once.  It was at Spencer’s Drive-In in Poplar Bluff, Missouri, but the place is just a memory now.

 

When my daughter and I went back inside, I take a cooler shower than usual.  When I dry off, the smell of bleach from my white towel makes my nostrils smart.  (Bleaching whites are part of my spring cleaning routine.) My face feels deliciously tight, and I am ready to make my kitchen cabinet casserole (what I call spring cleaning the fridge) while my daughter, freshly-bathed and smelling of lavender and innocence, jumps on my grandmother’s love seat with the cushions out.

All is calm, all is right, until she sneezes, and I am running from the next room, scrambling around to find a wipe while begging her not to touch “it.”