November 2006 Submissions
She’s got blue eyes and a cold heart
Cobalt blues were her eyes
Dark and dangerously
As too was her heart
Dark and deadly
Souls wasted around her
Once men……….
Before they tasted her deadly poison
Yet many line up
Thinking they can tame her
She laughs at the thought
She will be the one who has them begging
Before she leaves them mindless
Eyes of darkest blue
And a heart to match
Known to many
Unknown to none
MKC
November 26 2006
WindFlower's
Hope
BY:
FlaIsleGirl@aol.com
WindFlower looked into the cold grayness of winter. She shivered as
she wrapped herself in the warm buffalo hide. She was watching
snowflakes dart like fairies caught up in the winter storm. She knew
that the life span of the little snowflakes were short, for as soon
as they reached the cold earth floor, they would no longer be
snowflakes, but a part of a larger creation, that known as snow.
One of them drifted on her cheek, making her shiver.
Gently, she scooped it into her hand, looking at
it's beautiful intricacy. She had never seen two alike, as
they were all different, and living up in these cold northern woods,
she had seen plenty of snow flakes. This one looked like a star
though, with lacy cutouts around each point, and more starry details
and cut-out holes placed symmetrically around its center. She wanted
to admire it forever, but soon it started to melt in her hand.
WindFlower sighed. Go, little snowflake, she thought, you have shown
me your beauty. Now you must be one with the snow banks.
That was the way of
nature. Her mother had explained that to her before her wedding
night. You are a young and beautiful Indian woman, with hair long
and shiny and black, and eyes that sizzle like coal whenever you see
Ten Horned Elk. Tonight, you will marry him, and then, just like the
snowflakes that fall to earth, becoming one with the ground snow,
you and he, who have fallen in love, will likewise become one.
Inside the teepee, the fires were going out. She must
go in the storm to get more wood for the fire. Pulling the
buffalo fur tighter around her, she trudged out into the snow
drifts. She hoped that TenHorned Elk would be back soon with the
fresh meat. Deer was a good staple, and he loved to hunt it.
She would have a warm fire ready to cook his meal when he arrived.
She would surprise him too, and dance for him. Like the soft, gentle
snowflakes, she would dance for him until he called her to him. She
would go to him then, and fall into his arms. If the cold winter
storm outside raged on, she hoped the fire of their love would keep
them warm.
Soon she came upon
the fire wood that was stacked neatly by the teepee. TenHornedElk
had told her to put it there a few months ago, when the leaves had
turned golden and the nights had become cool and crisp. Winter
was on its way, and large chunks of wood were needed nearby the
teepee for the fire.
She would make a
good fire, she thought, as she trudged back through the snow, arms
laden with wood. When she got to the teepee door, it was opened, and
when she looked inside, she saw the glow of burning embers.
TenHornedElk had returned. His fur lined cloak was thrown on
the floor, covered with melting snow.
"My little
WindFlower, you must never let the fires burn out," he said,
naked from the waist up. She shook her shiny black hair,
shaking the snowflakes from it, and as she flashed her soft brown
eyes, they lit up like stars. He touch her. More snowflakes
fell to the floor as their lips met.
Outside, the once cold gray winter began to
sparkle with its new fallen treasure. Inside, WindFlower and
TenHornedElk sparkled too, for they were one in love.
To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven
Nine months
Actually ten
Long months
Flutters, then pulls and actually punches
Pains and tears
And crying out loud
Till that moment when
You are holding this precious life your hand
And it’s then, just then
When you truly receive a glimpse of heaven
In the perfect love of a baby
Angel
Family together
Many now gone
Around the table
Good time for all
Memories spun
Like golden threads
In various patterns
In thoughts of the day
A trip to the city
To watch the parade
The rush of the crowd
The cold of the air
Running thru Central Park
Laughter all around
The crisp November air
Chilling our faces
Smells of pie
So warm and fresh
Turkey cooked
For hours yet
Each one a memory
Another tradition to keep
An ending and a start
A circle complete
Angel
The Polar
Bear
Winter has a pure white landscape
Just like the Polar bear
His fur is fluffy like a milkshake
( I thank the Lord, I'm not there )
Where does he stay,
The Polar Bear?
Up in the Northern Plains?
He is cute and fluffy, yea
But if you don't mind,
I'll keep my teddy bear!
He's one of God's creatures
That big ole' Polar bear
His looks are quite deceiving
With teeth as sharp as sin.
So if you see one don't get cozy
He can bit you with that grin
Let him go about his business
stay close to God, not him!
Cheri
Irkutsk,
Russia. The middle of Siberia.
Two small children,
ages 3 and 18 months, sit, tied to the rails of a crib.
Their blonde
hair is the color of cornsilk, sheared short and spikey,
like military
buzz cuts for babies. They are with many other children,
perhaps 30
altogether. Each crib is full and each child is wearing
a look of
wonder or displeasure. It is hard to say who is in
charge here.
There are far too few adults and care takers for all of
these children.
Our 3 year old is male; his name is Denise. He was born
with a
cleft-lip and pallet. His eyes are wide and curious. He
is naturally
into everything. At the moment one of the women here is
holding him
above a cooking pot - their lavatory - and instructing
him in Russian
to use the "toilet." It is not friendly
instruction. He smiles and
innocently shouts back. This may have been a mistake. A
look of
shock comes over the woman's face - he must have just
cursed at her.
Little Denise is placed back in his crib, tied securely
to the
post behind him and left to "play" with the
other children. He
babbles incoherently, content now to be dry.
The 18-month old is female; her name is Tatiyana. She
was born
without fibias, the long bone in your lower leg, as well
as many other
bones in her feet. She sits, perched with her legs
indian style, her
small feet close together. She is unable to crawl
properly and
prefers this sitting position.
You have just met Denise and Tatiyana. They are my
brother and
sister. The year is 1993. Soon they will board a plane
with their
newly adopted father and fly home.
The United
States of America. On the East
Coast. Two teenagers
argue over the television remote in a cozy living room.
One is
cornsilk blonde, the other a dark brunette. They are 14
and 17. They
fall over the loveseat and narrowly miss kicking two
small girls in
the head. A fight insues once they reach the floor. The
blonde is
triumphant. Her brother makes a face and stomps over to
the
computer. "Stupid girls" he mutters.
Our 17 year old is Joshua Dennis. He has had one major
surgery
to repair a cleft-lip and pallet. He may need one more.
He is one of
6 children in this family; his two youngest sisters are
playing on the
floor in the living room. He loves the computer, reads
incessantly
and enjoys riding his bike and jumping on the family
trampoline. He
is incredibly smart and more than anything, he loves his
siblings.
Our 14 year old is Jessica Tatiyana. She is a
world-class
swimmer in the Paralympics. She has had multiple
surgeries on her
legs and is now a bi-lateral double amputee below the
knee. She is a
Paralympic Gold Medalist and has traveled the world over
with her swim
team. She is a world record breaker and she is at the
top of her
game. Jessica rock climbs, swims marathons, runs and
models. She is
an athlete and a sister.
These two precious babies were brought home to the US 13
years
ago. They were adopted by my in-laws and I have come to
love them
deeply. Over the course of their lives here in America
they
discovered English, real plumbing, fruits and veggies,
jeans and many,
many other things.
It is because of the immense love of a family that these
two have
a home here and have succeeded as many do not. They have
learned the
value of family and through everything they have set and
attained
goals that have seemed unaccomplishable. They are the
American
Dream. I am proud to call them siblings.
Jessica is taking the athletic world by storm and
aspires to be a
model. Joshua talks of being a missionary to his
birthplace, Russia.
******
Joshua and Jessica are my siblings-in- law. This is part
of their
story. There is quite obviously more to be written. They
are
remarkable kids and I am very proud of them. If you
would like more
information about Jessica and the Paralympics, please
visit her
website www.jessicalong. org
Once There Was A God
Once upon a time, when I was very young, I believed
there was a god.
My parents sent us to church, to St. Patrick's in San
Jose, when I was a little girl.
At school, the nuns from Holy Family would pick us up
after lunch every Friday and walk us to their church for
catechism. I was good. I learned my lessons.
I answered questions. And my answers were
right. When my sister, one year older than I, made
her first communion, I wanted to be her. I knew
everything she did. Even the nuns said I could, if
my parents would let me but my parents said there was
only enough money for one communion dress and shoes and
veil. So I had to wait. My turn never came.
My mother stopped sending us to church that year.
But I still believed there was a god.
When I went to college, during the first month of my
freshman year, there was an horrific murder inside the
church. In God's house. How could God let
that happen? How could he let some monster torture
and brutally murder a young bride in his own house?
And how could that god not punish anyone for that crime?
I wondered at that time, was there a god?
My life went on. When I married and got
pregnant, I knew there was a god. We had tried for
a baby for so long and I had thought then that there was
no god. But then I got pregnant and every time I
felt that life inside of me, I knew there was a god.
When my son was born, in February of 1982, I thanked
God.
Then it all went wrong.
On Friday night, November 5, 1982, just before midnight,
the phone rang. It was my oldest brother, Carlos.
"Are you sitting down?" he asked?
"No. Why? What's up?" I asked, not
suspicious of anything. Carlos liked to drink and
when he did, he sometimes got very dramatic.
"Little sister, do me a favor. Sit
down." He paused then asked, "Are you sitting
down now?"
"Yeah. I'm sitting down," I answered.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this. I just
got a phone call. David just killed himself."
My heart stopped. This had to be a cruel joke.
It couldn't be true.
"How? When? What happened? Are
you sure?" I was screaming by death.
"Yeah, I'm sure. I have to go over there
right now. The police are there and the coroner
is, too. They're waiting for me to get there so I
can see him before they take him away. He shot
himself with the shotgun. At home. Right
there in their bedroom. The kids were down the
hall watching TV. I gotta go Little Sister.
I'm sorry." And the phone went dead.
That's when I knew.
There is no god.
Through the years since, my knowledge that there is no
god has only been reinforced. No god would take my
babies – the lives that were inside of me.
Why? No god would be so cruel as to take not one,
or two, but three lives and rip them from inside of my
womb.
Then Richard died. Another brother. No
reason. He was 37 and he died in his sleep.
Why? Because there is no god.
And all the other things I have opened my eyes to.
Why would god give my sister a son that would never be
able to escape the world he lives in – the world
of Autism?
Why would god turn my life upside down and my
children's? Why would god allow their father
to abandon them for someone else, for another life?
Why would god allow AIDS?
Why would god allow hundreds of thousands to die in war?
Viet Nam. Korea. The Persian Gulf?
Afghanistan? Iraq? And all the lesser wars
that most of us are unaware of? Why would god
allow the genocides that are happening now?
Why would god allow the events of September 11, 2001?
Why would god allow the horrors that happen every day,
in every country?
Why would god allow gang warfare in our streets?
Why would god allow the suffering all over this world?
Why?
Because...
There is no god.
~Corina Carrasco
Memories
by Meredith
They said the extreme memory loss was due to the Epstein Barr, but it could also have been the badly timed and some would say cruel actions of a best friend and a boyfriend, both now “ex” in status.
He agreed to drive down and pick her up so they could all have a fun weekend together and he had the car so was the natural choice for chauffer. But when a one hour drive turned into four and two people who had never met previously came out of the car as close as lovers the beginning of the end was clearly here.
A fourth was invited, supposedly to be the ‘date’ for the best friend so they could all go out for an evening of bowling and pool without her feeling like a third wheel. However, when that ‘date’ wound up consoling the now spurned girlfriend in the boyfriend’s car due to the twelve-hours- earlier-stranger s kissing passionately in front of her as if she did not exist she knew it was over.
The best friend had brought a camera and shot photo after photo of the quartet, but more of the boyfriend, and even several of them kissing. The next day in the mall, after they had painted Easter eggs together, he left her alone with the best friend as he went into a store to purchase what was to be a consolation prize. Upon his return, the best friend went off so he could break up with the girlfriend, the gift, supposedly, to soften the blow.
It was shortly after that the Epstein Barr hit, taking her down in what was described as “a case of mononucleosis times ten”. Sleeping had now become her life, not even strong enough to watch television; she hibernated when all other things were springing forth into the world from their own slumber.
The ex-best friend arrived with a six-inch thick photo album, supposedly to help cheer the sick girl; however, she was not allowed in to see her due to possible contagiousness. When alas the sleeper awoke, she spied the album on her nightstand and out of curiosity she flicked open the cover.
Eighteen years, and many therapists later, it was finally discovered that it was that day all her insecurities were reinforced and new horrible ones created. The album, she recalled in session, was thick with photos of that night when the two people she trusted most betrayed her, and captions like “true love” under a photo of them kissing stabbed her in the heart, shriveling it to a tiny black coal and burying it under a mound of hurt and distrust. Her extreme memory loss was now possibly due to that hateful hurtful album, or still due to the Epstein Barr, either way this discovery was a turning point in her life.
The painfully extreme shyness, agoraphobia, anthropophobia, sociophobia, xenophobia, incapacitating feelings of betrayal in many people she’d known over the near two decades, the stunting of social interpersonal relationships, could now all be traced back to that very day she opened the album that was given to her by that supposed best friend to ‘cheer her up’. Seeing page after page of the man she thought she loved with her whole heart, sharing the love that had been hers prior to that day with the best friend she’d ever had, brought her down into a dark world she could not escape from no matter who had tried to help her or what they medicated her with.
Her family had been there for her, of course, a couple of friends who had proven themselves trustworthy, and a man who dedicated his life to loving her and trying to make her happy, but on far too many nights simply wound up holding her in the fetal ball she was in, and reminding her to breathe slowly.
Now with the realization where the stem of her problems had taken root, she begins the long hard process of weeding out the source and attempting to reclaim the life that was rightfully hers. Bolstered by her soul mate husband, she battles the darkness within, and can finally see a flicker of light growing larger with every day.
Ethan rolled his eyes. His mother was a talker. She would go on, and on, and on, and on. Man could she talk. He loved her dearly, but really needed to pack if he was going to get there by nightfall. “Ma! I need to get going now, if I am going to get there before it gets dark. I love you, see you soon.” Click. He hated to hang up on her, but she really annoyed him sometimes.
He got the rest of his clothes packed, and loaded it into his trunk. He left a key under the mat, for Angus to find, so he could feed the dogs. It was really nice of him to take care of his dogs for a week. Ethan checked to make sure that everything was secured in the house. Everything was set to go. “To Mama’s house we go.” He smiled as he folded his body into his two seated convertible. He rolled down the top so he could get some air.
His mother lived 5 hours away. He hated driving at night, where the chicks couldn’t see him in his snazzy new car. It was his baby. He loved women almost as much. It was growing dark outside. He hadn’t left until after 4. Suddenly the car started to sputter as he was turning onto a country road. Back roads weren‘t his favorites. He didn’t usually drive on them unless he was in a hurry, and this time, they would be his undoing. He checked the gas gage and noticed it was on empty. “Well doesn’t that just figure. I knew I forgot something.” Groaning, and mumbling the whole time, he pulled the top out, locked the doors, and headed off to the nearest gas station. After he had been walking for a half an hour, he noticed it was getting darker. He defiantly did not want to be walking after dark.
A little while later, he got to the gas station. He hit himself on the head. “I am SUCH a moron. I forgot the stupid gas can.” He figured that they must have one for sale, just in case a moron like him were to forget to get one. He sauntered in, just in case there was a pretty lady about. He looked around for a gas can. He couldn’t find one. He asked the cashier if she knew where he could get one. “There are some in the back, let me get you one.” She smiled at him. She was pretty enough, but was missing a tooth, not acceptable to Ethan. He was as picky about his women, as he was his car. A minute later she returned with a gas can for him. “Ring me up for a filler. I broke down about a mile or 2 up the road.” He turned on the charm. She might not have been acceptable, but hey, he wouldn’t turn down a ride to his car. “That will be $5.00, please, and I am married.” She smiled back.
It was a long walk back to his car. He wished he had his cell phone, then he could at least call his mom to let her know he was ok. Besides that, she would talk his ear off until he got back to the car. It wouldn’t be so lonely that way.
When he got back to his car, he put the gas in. Then with that done, he reached for his keys… “Keys? Where are my keys? Oh NO!! You Idiot!” He ran to the driver side. He smacked the car like it did something wrong when he saw his lucky rabbit’s foot key chain dangling from the ignition. “Man alive, Nothing else can go wrong. This is the worst day of my life.” He started the long walk back to the gas station.
“I swear, I will never bother you again, if you just let me use your phone.” He smiled at the cashier again. “Alright, but it better be local, or collect.” she retorted, as she handed him the phone over the counter. He called his mom, giving her the address of the gas station, and the number for Triple A, and the number to the gas station to call him back.
“You squared away, there buddy?” The cashier said gracefully. “Sure thing, Pal.” he retorted. She was off her shift, and offered him a ride, since it was on her way home. She made him sit in the back of her truck though
Kellie
If you can.... Forgive the woman that you don't
understand. Realize
you may never. BUT, love her anyway.
In time the walls will crumble. Yet don't expect they
all will. Too
scared. Still need to keep some armour up. Remember
why it's there.
That someone before you broke her. She know's this
isn't fair to you,
give her time. BUT, love her anyway.
She knows her many faults. Blames herself for more
than she needs to.
You won't understand this.... BUT, love her anyway.
She doesn't blame you for what you don't understand.
How could you?
No one has ever broken you like this before, your one
of the lucky
ones. Don't blame her for what she can't yet let go
of. Or the hurt
that comes back and haunts her. She has wounds that
time has not
healed. BUT, love her anyway.
The strong woman you see is sometimes the woman she
pretends to be to
get through the day. There are only so many tears she
can cry... You
can see the scared girl inside if you look closer.
She's not always
tough, more scared than ever. BUT, love her anyway.
She sometimes cries when you hold her. Remembering
before you arms
that weren't as safe. Shes safe now, but the tears
still come. BUT,
love her anyway
She fails at times More than she wins BUT, love her
anyway.
She doesn't mean to be so cold when you compliment
her. She wants to
believe what you say. That something that tears her
down always ends
up speaking first. BUT, love her anyway.
Her smile hides the pain... Some days its forced. Her
pretty eyes
hide the tears BUT love her anyway
She's complicated. She knows this. She tries not to
be.
BUT......
Love ME anyway...... .
By: Jenny W (dreamingbrwneyes@
yahoo.com)
From the Potato's Point Of View
I am a sweet potato
Some like to call me Yam
My flesh is orange, my skin is brown
A side dish's what I am.
Some like me with marshmallows
Soft and brown on top
But all I have to say dear reader:
"This has got to stop!"
Each year it is the same routine
I'm boiled and I'm baked
I'm mashed and topped with candy
There is no escape!
Lying in a cold glass dish
A spoon shoved in my side
There's little care for how I feel
And now I've lost my pride.
I'd like to know why I am so
Important to your day
This isn't fun for anyone
I hate this holiday!
Sarah