July 2006 Submissions
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July 31, 2006
Interlude: Until Next Time: A Plate of Sunshine
“I thought at first that having you around was going to be a trial,” he smiled at his brunette beauty. “And then I met you and knew you were going to be trouble from the get-go.” His smile widened. “I was right on that one.”
Ali stuck her tongue out at Blake, and grinned. “That’s a no-brainer, Cowboy.”
“Maybe.” He shook his head and looked back into her blue eyes. “But, it’s been worth it. I’m thankful to have met you. I wish you didn’t have to leave me.”
There was a knock on the door followed by a muffled, “Hurry the hell up, would ya?”
Ali laughed at Flint’s impatience. “I don’t know if it’s just jealousy or if he really is that eager to get going!”
“I’d vote for the jealousy. He knows you’re mine now.” He ran his hand down the side of her face. “Or, at least I hope you are.”
Ali leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I can be anything you want me to be… or need me to be. All you have to do is ask.”
Letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was even holding, Blake drew her into his arms and held her close. Her head fit perfectly beneath his chin, just one more sign they were meant for each other. At 6’ 5”, he hadn’t met too many girls that he could hold like this and it felt so good to be able to do it now. He didn’t want to let go, ever.
The pounding at the door came again.
“I think that’s my two-minute warning, Cowboy.”
He flashed her that goofy grin, the one that won her over the first day they met. “Well, then I guess we’d better make the best of those two minutes, don’t you?”
In reply, she lifted her head and pressed her lips against his. He pulled her even closer than before and returned the kiss, happily. They stayed together, holding on, until Flint’s impatience led him to kick the door finally.
“Could you give a girl a freakin’ minute to say good-bye you stupid leatherneck?” she screamed at the closed door. “Jeeze Louise, I swear I’m gonna smack you in about two seconds!”
Blake lost the fight to keep a straight face. Laughing, he pulled her back to him for one last kiss. “You’re just a little plate of sunshine, aren’t you?”
“What can I say? I try.” Blowing him a kiss, she left the hotel room, leaving him alone and with the promise of a time to come. Soon.
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Morning Coffee
Sitting on the porch,
cup of coffee in hand.
The sun is out and a cool breeze is moving the air.
Trees in rhythmic motion as the
wind shuffles through the branches.
Squirrels scampering for food.
As I sip my coffee
I see birds searching for food with their little ones.
Little critters scurrying back and forth.
Don't know what they are after.
Suddenly clouds emerge and thunder starts.
Lightening streaks across the sky,
which has become very dark.
This is tornado weather.
You can smell it in the air.
Better seek shelter.
Darn!&%$@
Joter 7-31-2006
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Wounds
Anger boils from the
Core of my being
Ready to erupt
Like a pregnant volcano;
Hurt scorches my preverbal
wounded heart
Which beats fast, hard, uncontrollable.
It too feels like a rupture
Imploding from the pressure of deceit.
Looking in my bathroom mirror
I see a worn, troubled woman;
A mother growing old, alone.
Questions burn at the tip of my tongue.
The calendar reminds me that
She would have been eight-five today.
It seems that grief thrives in my
Sagging spirits along with my flaccid skin.
Weeping would be wasted just as
the
Anger which grips at the very essence of me.
Answers will not come; pain will never stop
Until I forgive, forget, moving forward; never to look back.
© Margaret C. Rigsby
7/30/06
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Headlights In
the Rain
I was so tired. I wanted to be home, warm, safe, in my bed, but I wasn't.
My mother and my brothers and sisters and I were walking home from the movies.
It was dark and late. We had stayed all afternoon. We watched both
movies and the cartoons over and over again. My mother gave us money to
get food at the snack bar when we complained we were hungry.
We wanted to go home but my mother said it wasn't time yet. So we stayed
longer. Finally all the movies were over and everyone had left. We
were the only ones there and the man came and said we had to leave. So we
did.
When we walked outside, it was dark and cold and raining. My little sister
complained that she didn't want to walk. She cried and told my mother to
call our father to come get us. My mother said no. She said our
father should be asleep now and we couldn't wake him up. So we started to
walk.
This wasn't the first time. It happened all the time. When my father
didn't have to work on the weekends, he would drink beer. A lot of beer.
Then he would fight with us and with our mother. My mother always let him say
things to her and even hit her but when he started to hit us, she would get mad
at him. She would find a way to send us outside or in the other room where
he couldn't hit us. Then she would come and tell us to get our shoes on
and our clothes ready because we were going for a walk. We had to be
quiet.
And that is what happened today. He drank his beers. He yelled at my
mother. He hit her. Then he started yelling at us. When he got
up to hit David, my mother distracted my father and motioned for David to leave
the room. Then we got our jackets and quietly waited for her. It
didn't take long. We went to the movies, walking quickly and looking back
to make sure he wasn't following us. Then we watched the movies and
waited.
Now we are walking home, in the rain and I know we are all hoping he will be
asleep when we get there, or the fighting will start again and we can't leave at
night time, in the rain, because all there is out there are headlights in the
rain.
~Corina Carrasco
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Headlights in the Rain
by Margaret C. Rigsby
Rain splashed up from the
freeway
as torrents fell downward in darkness;
blinded by the spray
darkness loomed menacing.
Visibility was as far as the
wipers working overtime,
barely audible in the downpour.
Invincible drivers passed by speeding.
No place to pull over without
disastrous consequences,
with sight and hearing
abated by the hammering downpour.
Inwardly thoughts of the empty
house
posed distress upon danger.
The mind drifts when the only focus
is staying between the white lines.
Thinking sheared automatically
switching to those thoughts which flash unexpectedly
quickly like animation in minds eye, life- the good, bad and ugly;
fate sealed by on-coming headlights in the rain.
7/23/06
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On the way to Grandmother‘s house
by Margaret C. Rigsby
I remember sitting in a bus station in our home town. Father had dropped us off after getting the information on the arrival and departure time of the bus. I must have been about eight. Mother sat beside me on the wooden bench, strangers all around us. We were all waiting for a bus but not the same one.
Sometimes someone would get up and leave but Mother and I were still waiting for the bus that would take us to Grandmother’s house.
Mother explained that the bus had been delayed so we would have to wait a little longer. I remember that we were going to visit Grandmother in a neighboring town. In those days cars were a luxury not a necessity. That would not have mattered anyway as Mother had never learned to drive; Father made sure of that!
“Only men should drive, Olivia! Don’t I take care of you and John? Don’t I bring home the bacon and provide for my family? Why on earth would you need to drive?” I can still remember Father’s shocked and almost shrill reply to Mother’s question.
“Yes, honey, you take care of us. I just thought that if I learned to drive, I could take Johnny shopping by myself and even get the groceries on the way home.” she countered.
“Well, it is out of the question.” he had retorted. When Father had made a decision, that was the end of the matter.
I was anxious to see Grandmother as she seldom made the trip to our house since Grandfather had passed away. I can still see her kind and loving face that always lit up when she saw me. It seems years do not take away the best memories.
Mother pulled some money from her handbag. I watched closely because Mother almost never had money in her handbag.
“Johnny, I noticed there was a gift shop as we came in. How would you like to see what all is in there? We still have time before our bus gets here.” my young eyes lit up. I was so tired of sitting.
“Can we, Mother?” I asked in excitement.
“You bet!” she smiled down at me and ruffled my brown hair with her hand. She did that a lot. Most of the time I would have protested, even though in fact I enjoyed the attention, I just smiled up at her face.
She had the most beautiful face with her blue eyes and delicate fair skin. I thought she was even more beautiful when I watched her brush her hair and it fell softly to her shoulders.
As we walked a small distance to the gift shop I saw our reflection in the glass . I thought that she was so stunning that I felt like an ugly duckling beside her with my dark brown hair and eyes. Even my skin was shades darker than hers.
As we walked hand in hand around the gift shop I saw many things that a boy of eight would want to buy for himself. I wanted to ask Mother for several things until I saw the flowers. I walked over to the glassed refrigerated display putting my hand on the glass so I could feel the coolness.
It was hot in the bus station even with the large fans running above us. I was amazed at how many fans were attached to the ceiling and yet it felt like they only served to blow hot air around.
“Mother?” I queried looking up at her.
“Yes, Johnny?” she had looked at me with both a loving and sadness that I could see in her face. I was a little confused. The sad look was not a look that Mother had ever directly showed me but it seemed to radiate from her countenance.
I dismissed it for the time being and asked: “Mother, what is Grandmother’s favorite color of flower?”
She smiled at me. “I think your Grandmother loves yellow roses, son.”
“Do you think we could buy her one and surprise her when we get there?”
“I don’t see why not!” she exclaimed almost joyously. “Is there anything else you want to buy, Johnny?”
I had to restrain myself from asking for the things I wanted but I knew that Father was tight about Mother spending money so I just said no.
“You pick the one you want to give Grandmother.” she instructed me.
There were so many and they were all so pretty. “Which one is the rose flower, Mother?”
She pointed the roses out to me. I pondered the selection until I saw the yellow one that was prettier than any of the others. It was barely open but I could see the beauty of the yellow bloom with white around the edges.
I pointed to it, “That one.”
Mother smiled, showing her white teeth which was another thing I admired about Mother. Her smile was beautiful, I would have liked to see her smile more often.
“That one it is!” she seemed as happy as I was with the selection.
Mother went over to the gentleman standing at the cash register and talked to him for a few minutes. I waited by the door watching as people strolled by the shop on their way to other places.
Mother came back with the beautiful yellow rose but it was all wrapped up and their was tin foil around the base of it.
“Why is Grandmother’s flower, I mean rose, all wrapped up like that, Mother” I was puzzled because it didn’t seem nearly as pretty that way.
“Well, darling, the nice man fixed the rose so that it would not wilt and would still be pretty when we gave it to Grandmother.” she flashed a half smile at me but I could still see the sadness in her eyes.
She took my hand and we walked back to the same bench and sat down to wait on our bus.
Mother told me to close my eyes and open my hands which I did without question. I felt something placed in my hands. I remember the excitement of the anticipation.
“Okay, open your eyes.” she told me.
When I opened my eyes there was a brown bag in my hands. I peered into the bag to discover that Mother had bought me a penny’s worth of jelly beans.
I sat the bag on the bench and hugged her neck tightly, “Thank you Mother!”
As she smiled at me she told me to go ahead and have some that she had something to talk to be about before the bus arrived.
I picked out some of the black jelly beans and enjoyed the flavor as I waited for Mother to tell me whatever she had to tell me.
She started out slow as if she were choosing her words carefully but I could see the sadness in her blue eyes. I don’t think I have ever enjoyed jelly beans or yellow roses as much since Mother told me what she had to tell me on that hot summer day.
“Johnny, I think you are old enough to know some things that you might not fully understand. Father does not agree with me, but I don’t always agree with Father either.” She worked up a timid smile.
“What is it, Mother?” I asked with my blackened-jelly-bean mouth.
Again, the sad look. “Johnny, when you were a little baby…the prettiest little boy baby I ever saw!” I smiled.
“Father and I picked you out.”
“Picked me out of what?” I looked suspiciously at her.
Mother looked as though she did not quite know how to speak. “Well, Johnny, your father and I could not have babies of our own. You know what babies are, like the cat when she had her kittens?”
I nodded my head to indicate yes.
“Well, of course you were much more special than kittens or puppies but we went to a place where they had three or four babies that the mother’s could not take care of…we picked you out as our special little boy.” There were tears welling up in her eyes but a smile on her face.
I stopped eating the jelly beans. “Did the mother’s die?” I asked.
Thoughtfully she answered, “I suppose some of them might have died.”
“Does that mean that you are not my Mother?” I was very confused by this time. All I could think about was how we gave the unwanted kittens away.
“No, sweetheart,” she brushed my hair with her hand. “I will always be your mother and I don’t want you to ever forget that. I just thought it was time to tell you how special you are!”
“As special as the kittens Cory had?” I wanted to know what she would say to that.
A tear slipped down her cheek and she turned her head away from my eyes for a moment. “No, Johnny. You are more special than Cory’s kittens because you are a little boy and the woman who gave birth to you wanted you to have a special home. That is how we got you. I didn't have you like Cory had her kittens but another sweet woman did and she said we could take you home and take good care of you…forever.”
I wrenched my face, “Will she want me back?”
Mother sighed. “She can’t have you back, Johnny because you belong with me and your father now. You always have.” she paused a moment and added: “There may be a day when you want to get to know her and that is why I am telling you this today. Maybe when you are older then you can decide. I mean if she is still alive, like Cory.”
I threw my sticky jelly-bean hands around her neck and hugged her hard. “I love you Mother!”
“I love you too, sweetheart, forever and ever!” she hugged me firmly back.
I picked up the brown sack and picked out some green jelly beans. I offered Mother some but she declined.
They tasted sweet and good but I didn't want any of the black ones anymore.
A man over a speaker announced that bus 33 had arrived and Mother said that it was time to go to Grandmother’s now.
I picked up the cool rose with one hand and handed the bag to Mother. We walked a short distance and stepped onto the bus that would carry us to Grandmother’s house.
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I'm immune to it
with all the jeers
name calling
teasing about my family
I really don't know what
is meant by all this
don't people know that
you don't pick your
home
so what if they are different
don't you think they are
intelligent
well they are
my daddy could make
any electronic thing
work
and build them too
mama was very loving
funny
good sense of humor
couldn't cook
kept a very clean
house
I guess it was because
they were both
deaf mutes
Joter
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*_Nothing to feel _*
/All emotions gone,/
/Left standing naked and alone/
/The pain on my back no match for the pain in my heart./
/Both will scar, from being ripped apart./
/One by your chain, stinging and sharp/
/The other by your words, your careless thoughts./
/Now your gone, your attentions turn away./
/Stalking the prey for another day./
/I’m left in this room, bleeding and cold/
/Nothing to feel, a broken
soul./
Lupa Dedanna
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"Headlights in the Rain"
Headlights in the rain
through the tears,
as my eyes strain,
my head explodes with pain
Headlights in the rain
The raging storm blows on
as the radio plays a sad song
about a love so strong
that now has turn out wrong
The raging storm blows on
The Sun again, will shine,
on this broken heart of mine
and on that day i'll find
a love, that is divine
The Sun again, will shine,
Headlights in the rain
i will overcome the pain
wipe away the stain
as i start again
Headlights in the rain
spark
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One brilliant, sunny
morning,
light dancing off the snow...
the knock came on the cabin door
the soldier's, call to go...
The messenger came to
say...
the word, traveled through the night
on horseback, through the woods...
the time had come to fight
A country, in it's infant
stage
seeking harmony, in this land
would have to earn their freedom,
bloodshed, by their hands..
The gravity of the news
weighed on the solider as he marched,
with his companions throughout the day,
and as they gathered in the dark..
As darkness settle across
the land
the Patriot could see...
the thousand fires lit,
by his pompous enemy
His commander aroused his
courage,
He would stand and fight...
for MY freedom and my sons
The Patriot gave his life.
Spark
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"Immune to It"
This is not a poem..
of what you might assume...
some-one whose lost all feeling...
whom, apathy may consume
No, this is instead...a
declaration..
of my refusal to become...
a blinded sheep, amongst the flock...
never "sensing" anyone...
To be proud, to say my
hands,
applied the thoughts within my head
To sleep without regrets...
not hungry, in my dry bed..
I know my hands alone,
can't change the horrors on this earth
but, perhaps, one child's smile..
might give my life some worth
so NO, i won't become
so apathetic, i can't see..
that when I'm not "IMMUNE TO IT"
some-one really does....need me.
spark
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Dear Diary,
Iridescent light flows through the window as I ponder the probability of the coming autumn.
Probability? Indeed! Life can trickle away in one moment of time and I do not assume that there will be a tomorrow.
I peer out the wispy white curtains as though expecting to see the gray skis of Fall. Instead I see a tall beautiful yellow sun-flower basking in the summer sun! It makes me smile. It is always the little things that make me smile anyway.
I hate Fall because it precedes Winter and all the holidays. There is not one grain of happiness that has not been touched by the death of my parents. Not one day that I do not think of them, miss them, yet I know that they dwell in the alabaster shadows of peace.
Good night, sweet diary. Hold the pieces of my life together, one page at a time.
Margaret
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Genta
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Genta
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Nothing to Feel
Like a worm in a cocoon
theses walls might as well be my tomb,
the larva transforms with beauty
and flies away;
Here I stay, hidden
insulated in a-self-made cocoon,
where I feel nothing
because there is nothing to feel.
© Margaret C. Rigsby
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Atop'o'Ben Nevis
Life is at a standstill
as I look aroun'
the highest point in Scotland
here a won't be foun'
It may be clichéd
but trust me it is true
That being here makes me feel...
so much bet'er than you
This is where ave come fae
fae generations pas'
Bathe ma grannies came fae here
bit a may be the las'
It makes me feel pure bogin
knowin it's a fact
they all had the guts to stay here
an that's somefin tha' ave lacked
Mibey it's because I'm scared
that I'll be just another Scot
another anti unionist
Who tends tae dream a lot
And shite, am no that Scottish
wantin tae get away,
away fae 'the land o the brave'
... I know a canny stay
With those thoughts, pride is swept away
and the truth smacks really me hard
....am no on ben nevis
It's just another borin day
ave never actually been oan Ben Nevis
just in a dorm named after the hill
It's a lads so I shouldn even be here
but every day o this trip a will
Not cause of a feelin o pride
trust me you'll laugh at this
the dorm has a pure fancy bathroom
where it's a novelty tae piss
o'course ave never been oan Ben Nevis
nine out oot o' ten Scots havny tae
.. but five oot o' ten scots are leaving
but for me... today isny that day
I'll let masel feel Sco'ish
gee way tae the feelin's o pride
I'll savor my last years in the country
wae ma family as ma guide
ma guide for when it is time to leave
probably when Granny Walker and Annie are deed
that way I won't feel am abandoning 'em
no mare words tae heed
Every day as I feel mare Scottish
the mare I wan' a get away
but at's cause of unemployment levels
it's no shame o where a come fae
but strangley am embarresed o steryotypes
cause we don go aroun wearin a kilt
nor do we all play the backpipes
an in the glens oor hooses aint built
The day a say 'see ya' tae Scotland
tears will roll down ma face
I probably would take ages tae leave
if ma sister hadny made it a race
I havney been oan ben Nevis
But i've been in Glen Co an' Glen fine
this time it isny jus dorm rooms
just real precious memories o mine
Jennifer -Annie
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My Silent Friendship
Jennifer-Annie
I was an odd child... apparently. I hated being around people too often- not to say I didn't have any friends, as I had quite a lot of friends, but there was part of me that needed to be alone.
The strangest part of it was walking... I could never walk with people. If I was out with my friends, and we weren't like.... out deliberately, let's say walking to school, I would always need to be at least two feet behind or ahead of them with my music pumping in my ears through my cassette player (nowadays it's the same except I have the wonder of an mp3 player) and I would make as little conversation as possible- which was odd as I was the 'chatty' girl who always got teachers telling her to 'shut up' or... whatever. I guess nothing has changed that much really, the only difference is that I can pass it off as worrying about studying and that.
Walking with my music became part of my life and every day of mine required at least an hour of walking (if you considered walking to school and back, going out with my mates and buying messages that would take up most of the time so usually I got at least two done...) so every day at a random time, whether six in the morning (I got up at five to get some time alone away from my family) or seven at night I went out for a long walk.
And usually so did dogboy.
On about 80% of my walks there was dog boy or dog man or even, my friends favourite, neddy dog boy. He was a tall man, about 6,5, in his twenties who I never once saw without a green or blue trackie on (which gave him the 'neddy' part) and he wa. Dog boy had a small mongrel that I never once saw him without, why, I don't know, cause it was one ugly dog. On every walk we made about two seconds eye contact before going on our way- I couldn't help but wonder 'who are you'.
And wonder I did- or rather- we did. My best friend Kirsty and I made quite a sport out of dog boy. Late at night when we were sobering up or just lazing around I would say 'I wonder if he goes on the walks to escape a nagging wife.' Usually Kirsty would counter it by saying 'We live in Glasgow, more likely he's escaping his flat to get away from his ex's constant pleas for child support'... we were nice 12/13 year olds.
Kirsty always made it so that I was never too naive about dog boy. She would never let me think she was a good person. If I even considered he had a job she would say something like 'In Glasgow?' completely ignorant of the fact that both of our parents were still together and had jobs... we were fond of stereotypes.
In my mind dogboy was a friendly uncertain man that was perhaps... uncertain about women. But in reality, chances are, he probably was a divorced, unemployed drug addict who went out on walks towards his next fix. It seems cruel that I thought like that but me and Kirsty couldn't sit down in queens Park without someone coming over to us and saying 'Di' you see ma eccies lyin aroon anywhere?' or something to that extent.
I never did learn dogboy's name. But I always saw him as a friend over the many years I saw him.
My walks ended a year and a half ago....
I haven't saw him since... I wonder what he thought about me... if he made up some life story about me like I did about him.
Even though I didn't know him, he shall always remain in my heart as my eternal... silent friend.
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The Darkness
The darkness pulls me in, deep inside of myself, to the blackest parts of
my soul. It traps me and renders me immobile. For days I go
through the motions of life...not for me
but for my daughter. It scares her when I am not me. She
doesn't understand it, yet she sometimes sees it coming before it consumes
me. She knows I cannot help it and I pray she won't blame me.
I pray she will escape. Please let the darkness pass my
children. Let it encompass someone else but not them.
I've swapped one darkness for another yet I persist the fight to emerge
victorious. The first darkness often invited me to drive to the edge of a
cliff and beyond. I remember thinking that I wished I was at my
parent's home so I could take one of my father's guns and end that dark
world. I prevailed and refused the invitations to the cliff and the
urge to take a gun until medicines were offered. Then, at least,
when the darkness came, I could take a pill and it would leave me.
But now it is a different darkness...one that leaves me unaware and unable
to fight it. I hang on so I don't drown in it. Somewhere deep
within me a voice reminds me to hang on for just a little while
longer...until the dark waters recede until the next time.
~ Corina Carrasco
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Footsteps echoed in the
darkness. The stillness of the night
allowed me to hear everything cats prowling in the bushes, a distant
cough, joggers' feet lightly touching the ground, and yes, those
footsteps
I wondered who the
footsteps belonged to. They were firm, solid
footsteps. Self-assured. This person knew who they were, what they
wanted, and where they were going. I admired that. I always have.
The two men I have been
most attracted to in my life had that
walk...the one that told me they knew who they were. The one that
told me they knew where they were going. No, they probably had a
lot of doubts about who they were and where they were going, but
what I mean is that they had this inner knowledge of who they were
as a person and what they were willing to do and not do to remain
true to themselves. They knew where they were going in that they
knew which lines they could cross and which they could not.
I liked that about them. I
still do. And I hope that one day the
footsteps echoing in the darkness will be coming toward me, toward
my house, my person, my life.
~Corina Carrasco
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