The meeting

Well, our last meeting had low attendance. Not a problem, though. We did end up staring at each other a couple of times but our little metaphor/simile game worked out better than the naysayers expected. Matthew came up with a couple of nice ones although he wouldn't admit it. Mine were spectacular and the room hushed in awe.

We will be meeting again in June and I'll be sure to send out an email reminder in the middle of the month.

Here's something I came across that you might be interested in. Science fiction writer James Patrick Kelly is offering free audio versions of a bunch of his writing here. If like literate SF you will like this guy, trust me.

Speaking of figurative language

Metaphor has always been a tough one for me to get my brain around. Wikipedia has a good article on metaphor.

Thursday

Here's an early reminder that this Thursday we are meeting again. Come one, come all.

Think about what you would like to do this week. Another contest of some kind? An exercise of some sort? Just sit around and read stuff? Riot? Let me know.

Rainbows at the library

I went downstairs to buy a soda in the breakroom about 7:45 tonight. When I got back upstairs the downpour from earlier was now a steady rain. Looking out the windows behind the reference desk there was no rain, just dark steady-moving clouds. Sitting at the reference desk and looking across, out the windows opposite, I could see a golden rain lit by the sunset. I thought that there must be a rainbow in these conditions. I looked back out the windows behind the reference desk and, sure enough, a half rainbow arcing out of the trees and to the left out of sight. It's nice to have windows at work.

It 's time to....POST RANDOM POEMS!!! DUN-DUN-DUN-DUUUUN!!
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Haiku Ode to Meghan and Maggi

Meghan and Maggi
do you really care that much
if Lupin is gay? -----> alternate names: Harry, Wormtail, Charlie, Hagrid, etc......


Random Randomness from the CUPBOARD OF INSPIRATION

Dappled light on my face
springy moss under my head
my feet submerged in crunchy leaves
my elbow on a tree root
a spider on my nose

Random Stuff written directly after the Writer's Meeting

Head rush
bend it down, choke, swallow if you can,
don't let your limbs out of control,
keep running.
Don't let up--you can win
it's inevitable if you try.
Flashing legs, pummeling fists, aching ribs
and an echo of pounding feet in your ears.
It is pain, but it is joy.
It limits, but it is freedom.
Keep it up, only two more in front of you.
Your body is at the maximum,
draining your reserves of energy.
No one wins a marathon,
but you are someone.
You will win.
You will be.
You, the winner, the sprinter, the fastest, fly across the pavement as though your feet had wings.
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Yeah, yeah, none are that great, but I feel the need to post (cause no one else is) and I happened to have a couple halfway decent poems lying around, so why not?

Ode to our Token Adult
---------------------------------------------------------
Ed.

Ed said

Ed said, "I'm dead."

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There are some things you just have to do. This IS writing, even if it's short...and it...rhymes?

Haiku Contest

Yesterday we had our exciting haiku contest in which I was completely shut out in the voting. It was a conspiracy, I know it.

The Winner

Crisp Twilight sunrise
shards of water-colored mist
rolling up a hill

- Meghan

Runners Up

Doodles on paper
margins filled with my drawings
sketches of day dreams

- Grace

Silver drops fall
tears from the sky above
pure from heaven, rain

- Erica

The Rest

A blackened shadow
he stands, his mind wandering
filled of time and space

- Kelly

Ripping bleeding dead
S&M play gone too far
an accident...right?

- Maggi

Caged, he sits stagnant
forgetting what freedom is
how can he find hope?

- Matthew

The mall's many stores
the parking lot's pile of cars
the ants are marching

- Ed

Care Bears are scary
similar to mimes or clowns
Ahh! Run! Run away!

- Clare

Next meeting is this Thursday

Remember to not forget that at 6 pm this Thursday (May 11th) we will be meeting.

Don't forget we are having a big and special haiku contest with a super secret and very special grand prize. Runners up get squat. All spoils go to the victor.

ARRRRGH! NOOOO! *choke, gasp* WHY??????????????! Bad, bad, bad! Bad Grace! I completely forgot earlier that I have to keep all my school writing in my folder at school, so apparently you all won't be able to read my creative writing story until summer! Now I have nothing to put up! I must root around my room to see if I can find anything.

An idea for the Mediocres

How about an RSS feed? That would be fun. That way the new Mediocres would show up in my news reader.

Speaking of newsreaders and comics. You guys should check out Unshelved if you haven't. It's a comic that documents the daily life of a small library branch. It's been embraced by library people all over the country.

The Department of Redundancy Department

I'm sure everyone knows by now. In fact, the media may know by now, but yeah, we're meeting on May 11th at 6 pm. It's now official. It wasn't official before. It became official exactly 25 seconds ago.

Reschedule?

As I mentioned in yesterday's post which is directly below this post, the room is free on May 11th and I have booked it. Can I get some yea's and/or nay's concerning meeting on Thursday, May 11th at 6 pm?

Meeting cancelled

We won't be able to meet tomorrow, the room has been taken over by the Board of Elections for early voting. Maggi suggested we try to meet in a week or so. The room is free on May 11th if you guys are interested in meeting then.

Alrighty, then

It looks like reports of this blog's demise were premature.

Don't forget to remember that this Thursday is the fourth Thursday of April and you all know what that means: pot luck down at the VFW hall. No wait, that's no right. It's the monthly meeting of the Morrison Writers Club or, as it was known last time, The Thursday Night Fights. Be sure to bring something to read. If there is not enough material brought in to keep us busy all night I have a special weapon in reserve. I have a CD of me singing songs about my cats and will play it if you guys can't keep me interested. You have been warned.

Ode to a Dead Blog

O, dead blog
we hardly knowed yuh.
We came into this world
slowly and left less slowly,
some would say almost quickly.

We'll meet on the other side,
dead blog.
You'll be there with Johnny Cash
and his bride who is young again.
You'll be there with that dog of mine
that got diabetes and we had to put down.
You'll be there with Minnie Pearl
and Waylon and Willie (who's still around I hear)
and that rat I gave to the pound
before I left for the Marines
in the summer of '86.

But you haven't left yet,
dead blog.
There are weeks of archives
that the curious may yet peruse.
Let's call you dormant, not dead
blog.
You are a aluminum Christmas tree
sitting in a box in the garage in July.
You may feel close to despair but,
like that tree, someone has you
in their mind.

Stephen Crane

Since there ain't been much put up recently I thought I would post that poem by Stephen Crane that Megan read last week. This should brigten up any day.


Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom --
A field where a thousand corpses lie.

Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,
Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.

Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind

Hah. I have joined. Because I feel like it (and am actually ridiculously proud of this thing) I will post the song I read this evening.

Not Dreams But Waking Nightmares
Spiraling off, twisting and turning,
Never afraid while you’re here by my side
But now you’re gone, and so I am learning
When love doesn’t want you,
There’s no place to hide.

My dreams are spiraling out beyond my control
Turning to nightmares when day is through
I can’t rest my head with these devils inside
I’m going insane and I can’t survive
If I ask you again will you be so kind
Tell me what to do (Tell me what to do)

Bloodred sunsets shake my nerves
So badly I can’t breathe
Never again will I sleep through the night
My conscience is restless but I cannot reply
How to stifle my screaming when nothing’s all right
And the leaves shake the wind from the trees?

Spiraling off, twisting and turning,
Never afraid while you’re here by my side
But now you’re gone, and so I am learning
When love doesn’t want you,
There’s no place to hide.

When you were still here by my side I was sure
We’d be safe from all evil intent
But now that you’ve left me here grieving to death
I know nothing can save me
When you said you loved me,
I’m still not quite sure what you meant.

At least Evil’s intentions, however perverse,
Are still purely attired in black and dark red
While Good’s muddled mask saves its true face for last
And you only know its true goal
Once it’s stripped off its pretenses
When you’re lying face down and near dead.

Spiraling off, twisting and turning,
Never afraid while you’re here by my side
But now you’re gone, and so I am learning
When love doesn’t want you,
There’s no place to hide.

Love’s dark angels are sweeping me away
To your side, where I’ll wait for the end of all time
When bloodred streams of loneliness
Wake me from my fever dream
I remind myself to hide my sins from others’ prying eyes
And in the distant future, you’ll be mine

Black birds rip through my troubled mind
Screeching and scratching with bloodred claws
And I know that no matter how I try
They’ll never be gone and you’ll never be back
So I’ll just slip away, into Death’s looming jaws.
And let her do with me what she will
As I smile and the world fades to black.

Spiraling off, twisting and turning,
Never afraid while you’re here by my side
But now you’re gone, and so I am learning
When love doesn’t want you,
There’s no place to hide.

Book of poems, me bought

I bought this new collection by Donald Hall today. I believe I shared one of his poems during our first meeting. A big reason I bought it was because it came with a CD of Hall reading his poetry. Over an hour's worth. Maybe I'll bring it in Thursday and force you guys to listen to a couple...

So, no one else seems to be posting. I am currently working on something new, however, this is a random thing I wrote awhile ago. One of my few recent pieces of prose.


Some times I sit outside at night and I wish that the whole world could be as beautiful and uncomplicated as the night sky. Pink-tinted clouds against a dark purple-blue sky. It’s like the picture on a nursery rhyme tapestry in some little kid’s bedroom, reminding me of simpler times. Of bedtime stories and fighting to sit on Mama’s lap. Of staying up until eleven reading by the nightlight and thinking how exciting it was to be up so late. When the door creaks open quiet footsteps are careful to wake no one who sleeps. I rub my eyes and say I only got up to use the bathroom. But I stayed up to see her and she sits with me for awhile. Rubs the growing pains out of my legs and then settles down to read on of her mystery books until I finally drift off to sleep.

I jerk myself out of long ago memories, surprised to find wet cheeks. I go inside and light candles. The flames waver as I breathe out and then dance back up, casting shadows on the wall. Their glow of light has a beauty that electrical lights have never imitated. In the soft light of the candles the whole world - including me - seems that much more okay, more peaceful and at ease in a way that nothing ever is in the bright, revealing light of the day. It is why I love the night so. The darkness seems to encourage the letting down of barriers, showing one’s true self. I feel safe, wrapped in a cloak of darkness and faraway pinpoints of light.

Finally at 2 a.m. I climb into bed. By then I am so tired that I sink into the pillow with a sigh of content. The cool night air comes through my window and I snuggle farther under the covers. Sleep and dreams, angry for being so long denied their claim on me during these hours, rush to fill my mind. I willingly surrender. Goodnight.

More people need to post!!!!

Clare

A call for teenage girl writers

I just saw an article about how Amy Goldwasser from New York magazine is looking to put together a book of nonfiction from teenage girls. You can read about it here

I'm here to help.