Tag: #mindlovemiserysmenagerie

Blog One Word Challenge Random Writings

Tale Weaver – #252 – Making Sense of Nonsense – jodhoeing

I almost tried to look this up in the dictionary! Oops, not part of the challenge and not going to be in there I suppose! Here is my idea of what jodhoeing is…

He is always jodhoeing! No matter how often I tell him it hurts my feelings he keeps it up. When we were kids, our parents told us jodhoeing was a form of bullying. We didn’t think so then, we thought it was all in fun. But now, being older and having more to jodhoe about it starts to hurt. I thought that siblings were supposed to help each other out, keep their secrets, be friends for life. I guess I thought wrong. All I know is that now my secrets stay in my own head and my activities stay within my own circle of friends. This will give him less to jodhoe about and more to wonder about what he might be missing!

Random Writings

Tale Weaver – #251: Jobs

What do I want to be when I grow up?

When I look back and think of all the jobs I have had there are some that I recall with a smile, others I roll my eyes at. In addition to the jobs I have had I still have jobs that I wish I had had or jobs I wish I could still get.

When I was younger my dream job would have been to be like Clarice in Silence of the Lambs, talking to the most disturbed individuals, trying to find some sense it how the brain works. People think I am deranged myself, that I find it absolutely amazing to hear about the f—-ed up things people have done in this world. It is not that I sensationalize the crime, I find it hugely “intriguing” maybe, that a brain can find something okay with something that is so wrong. Anyhow, the last time I wanted to look into joining the FBI I was a new mother and figured that was a dream that would never happen. I still wish I had tried.

My teaching jobs have given me so many memories. So many people that I have worked with , all of the kids I have worked with. Now that I am no longer actively teaching, I think of all the things I still want to teach kids. I was one of those teachers who told kids the world like it was. I wanted kids to realize that there is a life beyond school and all of these years was just getting you ready to be a functioning citizen in society. I would tell students why they didn’t know something or why they weren’t learning something. Kids think if they don’t learn something it means they are dumb. No way! There is something getting in the way! I believe that everyone can learn whatever they want to learn. Find what is blocking that path! I hope that someday one of my former students thinks back and says “Mrs. B was right! I am pretty darn smart when I put my mind to learning something!”

There are other jobs in my repertoire. Waitress, Bartender, Fabric store fabric folder, CVS worker, nursery school teacher, job coach, employment specialist, garden center worker, planter (at a garden center), babysitter, salesperson, teacher, health coach, parent…I’m sure I am forgetting something.

What about now? I want to be an author. I want to be a writer. I want to have children ask their moms, dads, grandmas, Santa, whoever, for my books! I love working with kids. I like educational assessing. I love being a special education advocate. I love bartending. I don’t know what my next job will be. I am working on my writing. I am taking classes to improve it.

What do I want to be when I grow up? I don’t know yet.

Blog

Wordle #159

1. Fire 
2. Cave In 
3. Flair 
4. Scream 
5. Impish 
6. Mysterious 
7. Withered Arm 
8. Elastic 
9. French 
10. Vapor 
11. Kick 
12. Caisson 

When he finally emerged from the lip of the caisson, he realized he had come close to being the victim of a cave-in. The heat from the sun that hit his face was as hot as the fire burning close to the hole. He wanted to scream! Had anyone thought the hole mysterious? Did everyone think the hole was elastic and would open and close as needed? This would end up being a tomb, a burial spot, a place to breathe your last breath, like vapor on a steamy mirror.  

Suddenly, a face came into view. It was not recognizable as the impish grin drew all attention away from the characteristics and the bright light from the flair blinding him. With a withered arm, the face became a body and the body began pulling him up from the hole. If he kicked at the side, it could cause an avalanche of the unsteady earth. He would thank this Frenchman for his life-saving actions that quickly turned a horrific situation into one of relief!.  

Random Writings

Mad About Metaphor

– The idea was difficult to swallow.

I have had this writing prompt in my “saved drafts” folder. I have no idea where to start or what to write. I even thought to myself, do you even remember what a metaphor is? Of course I did! I’m a teacher and do you know how many lessons I have given on metaphors? My problem was that I didn’t want to write some silly poem with metaphors that didn’t work or write a short story with metaphors that didn’t fit. Writing using metaphors was an idea that was difficult to swallow.

Daily Writing Prompt Random Writings

Tale Weaver #248 – At the Bottom of the Garden – 7th November

For some reason I can’t even get the picture loaded from a screen shot. I will continue to try. If I don’t the picture is almost of an angel type fairy with lights glowing closer to the ground around her. It is almost eerie, as if she is floating above a misty graveyard. Well, that is my take! Lol!

______________________________________________________________

Ian’s Wife

Once upon a time in a land far away 

There lived a lady fairy, in wind her dress did sway. 

She had a lovely garden where all seemed new and bright 

The only thing that happened were souls came out at night. 

She stayed to tend her roses and her blossoms bright and pink 

She talked to them to make them grow, ignoring makes them shrink. 

At the bottom of the garden a little tree did grow 

From where her husband lay in death, only she did know. 

He was a sweet and humble man, a kiss for her each day 

He was so sick and fragile the night he passed away. 

And now the fairy wonders if her tree will grow real tall 

For in her garden weeds are few and insects very small. 

Tonight she flies to say hello to her only love in life 

Unable to remember how it was to not be Ian’s wife.  

Blog Christine Bialczak poetry Poetry to enjoy Random Writings

Saturday Mix – Lucky Dip, 2 November 2019

For this week’s Lucky Dip, I have reached into my mystery bag and pulled out a Diatelle. The topic is up to you!

Diatelle
The Diatelle is a fun, syllable counting form like the etheree with a twist. The syllable structure of the diatelle is as follows: 1/2/3/4/6/8/10/12/10/8/6/4/3/2/1, but unlike an ethere, has a set rhyme pattern of abbcbccaccbcbba. This poetry form may be written on any subject matter and looks best center aligned in a diamond shape.

Wow! This was a huge challenge!!!!!

Grace 

In vain 

On a train 

For all to see 

It may cause you some pain 

We wonder just how there can be 

love of yourself with no sign of pity 

you look at the mirror and see only your place 

You try to keep yourself just so pretty 

Like driving in an old city 

No sign of an airplane 

Walk with some clarity 

See the rain 

No pain 

Face  

Blog First Line Friday

First Line Friday: October 25th, 2019

Your line for this week is:

He came down from the mountains as autumn aged, before the paths could pile with snow and the bridges bowed with ice.

It was not until he reached the surface, not icy just covered with a layer of frost, that he began to realize it would be his last time crossing over to the other side. How many times had he done this in his lifetime? Hundreds, maybe thousands of time.

He recalled the summers he spent with his family up here in the woods. He and his brother would run across this rickety bridge without thinking twice about its safety. From one side of the river to the next, searching for treasures and hidden places. He and his brother would crawl through the the fern and fallen trees in hopes of finding a fairy home or troll tunnel.

But for now he would just cross this old bridge once more. He didn’t think it was strong enough to carry him more than once across. Those days of trips back and forth are long gone. Silly adventures and fairies and trolls were now outgrown. He wouldn’t see this bridge or these woods ever again. How had life gotten so far away from him and all of the simple pleasures he had as a child? Today was the day to say goodbye, to not look back, and to have no regrets for the changes he was making.