Tumblewords

Fractals Photos Poetry Prose Watercolor

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Once upon a Trip


This is the prompt from Sunday Scribblings:

When in your life did you feel the most powerful? Was it childhood? College? Now? What is that feeling like; what does it mean? Do you have power over your own life, or are you not feeling that so much these days? If you don't want to get serious, you might imagine superhero powers, and what you would do with them.

And this is my response:


I was invited to a meditation class where a group of people, under the tutelage of a local psychic, were investigating various aspects of metaphysics. In a stranger's house we sat in the living room and visualized the contents and their location in a closed room at the other end of the house. Individually and silently, we wrote the scene as we imagined it. Stunned at the accuracy of the 'observations' I decided to attend the next session.

About three-quarters of the way through a guided meditation...I'm not sure I can do this next part justice but I'll try...I literally left myself in the overstuffed chair, morphed into a white, glittery and iridescent chubby little grub-like worm with big blue eyes, extraordinarily long eyelashes and filmy wings. I flew, flew and flew to the Caribbean and swooped low near the sea surface east of Tulum. Looking into the ocean, I saw manta rays, lazing dolphins, sand sharks and groupers.

When I grew weary of the beauty, I returned to my chair. After that flight, I was able to lose fear of nearly everything except spiders and snakes.



Lighthouse pen-and-ink sketch, bookmark
North of Summer, a Decade of Poetry is available at Lulu Publishing

Friday, September 28, 2007

Sordid Undone

she gathers forget

in waters of the pious

rids herself of sin




Prompted by Fiction Friday
This photo is an image of a houseplant combined with a fractal and manipulated.
North of Summer, a Decade of Poetry available at Lulu Publishing

Autumn Haiga


sumac's fall colors
cheer this grouch of gray drearies
like Mozart/Monet


If it weren't for sumac...

Prompt from Inspire Me Thursday. This week, let us find inspiration in intimacy.
· · Get creative by interpreting this topic through art, words, photography, however you feel moved to express yourself.

Abstract Art Gallery
Bookshop

Thursday, September 27, 2007

She Walks


Summer, dry-hot and long,
sapped trees and severed limbs,

his fading marker lingered
another decade squandered.

Each year lichen gray
with semi-spots of sepia

tracks the time much as
shady trunks gather moss.

Autumn escorts silence
walks uphill beside her

draws a cloak of damp
and lays the ground to rest.

Another span of waiting
in hard and scratchy bits.





Into the Woods, digital photo by Sue
Prompt by Traveling Poetry Thursday
My Bookshop at Lulu Publishing

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Once upon a Moon


wrapped in scarves of fog
foothills caught pieces
falling from the Harvest moon
wind-kissed jacaranda
perfumed the eager night
restored the seeds of wonder
and in a spate of longing
she color-dreamed
an empty glass re-filled





Harvest Moon Watercolor by Sue Prompt by Three Word Wednesday

North of Summer, A Decade of Poetry is available at Lulu Publishing

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Key of Sea



wild ginger lay low
in the space between shadows

wind whistled along
half a note from the shore

white herons danced
while sand hugged the water

two ends of a summer
the middle gone missing

forever lost in the song
bobbing east of all places




Watercolor, East of all Places
Prompt from Writers Island

Monday, September 24, 2007

Juicy


Juicy fruit
so sweetly flavored
Wrigley's best

number one
juicy with promise
Eve's apple

tomatoes
leaking tiny seeds
taste like sun





Prompt from One Deep Breath Haiku

Abstract Watercolor Gallery




Sunday, September 23, 2007

Sunday Scribblings #78


Sunday Scribblings Prompt: ‘Hi. My name is…’

This is what I know about Alice ~ a fictional character currently visiting me.


Stifling air, a lumpy mattress and leg cramps stole the comfort of beautiful dreams. Alice tossed and turned.

The old woman she’d seen yesterday in the dumpster behind the restaurant preyed on her mind. Alice was certain there was little difference in finances between them. This was the nightmare that kept her awake on most nights. How long would she be able to sling hash and collect bucks enough to keep herself afloat in a minimal fashion? How far was she from a highjacked Safeway shopping cart and a big Tide box?

She watched it happen day after day. Diners and drinkers at the Drift Inn were all edgehangers. Oh, they pretended not to be but when the last call lights came on, none hurried to leave. They never quit looking, never quit hoping.

Take that crazy Joe. 'Geronimo' he called himself. He kept his eye on Alice and she wondered how desperate he’d have to be to lust after a waitress with varicose veins and a lazy eye?




Fractal created in Fractal Explorer.

Friday, September 21, 2007

Bird Flu


Hiller buried under down
shivers, shakes and sweats
vexed by sounds
soaring through warm air

swimming in his pool
filter death by feathers
it refused to let him be
no escaping those eyeballs

spying, stalking, haunting
a duck forever watching
anatidaephobia was his






Down from Under, watercolor by Sue

from Wikipedia:Anatidaephobia — fear that somewhere, somehow, a duck is watching you (fictional, from a Gary Larson cartoon published in The Far Side Gallery, 4).

Phobia prompt at Write Stuff

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Uncorked



One haiku and one fibonacci for Traveling Thursday prompt: Uncorked



backed up her old brain
with black font and dead tree cells
before the drive failed


she
did
progress
gigabytes
from old gray graphite
but misses nibbling erasers




One White Petal, watercolor
Abstract Watercolor Gallery

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Wednesday

inauspicious type of day
ambiguous and gray
without a clearcut color
no red to fire the dawn

crows slept through the fog
Ol' Number Nine shed its whistle
lumbered down the rusty rail
last trip across the flatland track

double line torn up on Thursday
permits a prairie roofed with gates
paved by pretend manors,
wishful For Sale banners wave



Watercolor, pen and ink bookmark

3Word Wednesday Prompt: ambiguous nine slept




Monday, September 17, 2007

Another Day, Another Gift


Not a polyanna ~ I'm more inclined to be a cynic and periodic grumbler ~ I've used this prompt for a gratitude thingy. In no particular order:

The quiet before the storm - without the storm
A bill with a lesser amount than expected
The first green shoot dislodges winter snow
The absolute delight of chocolate
Fragrance of peach pie baking in someone else's oven
Coming home to find the coffee pot turned off and the garage door shut
The first successful use of new software
A friendly and helpful clerk
A perfectly formed sentence on the first try
A word that says exactly what I mean
A visitor to share a cup of coffee and a splash of time
A swatch of color widens my eyes, enables a dream
A genuine laugh from anyone - anywhere - anytime
A conversation that opens my mind and leaves me wanting more
The Internet and blogs to provide thought sharing and information gathering

And, last but most, the gift of family and friends and those wonderful times when life continues - without major change. Two dances with the grim reaper and a daughter's success in outrunning breast cancer remind me that each day is a gift. I'm not grumbling!



Quick pen and ink sketch for bookmark

Tumblewords Near Year of Blog is available as an e-book at
Lulu Publishing

Recipe Haiku


open jar
heat in microwave
lazy she


slice apples
bake in phyllo dough
autumn crisp


orville's bag
three minutes on high
popcorn time


dark roast brew
plus chocolate splash
writer's high


Recipe - Prompt by One Deep Breath Haiku
Digital Photo by Sue
North of Summer, a Decade of Poetry at Lulu Publishing

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Collector or Not


I don't classify as a collector but as a keeper.

My problem resides in not knowing what to rid and how to rid it. Items too large for the passenger seat often pile up in the back room because transport is such a pain and items too small hang around to gather dust because I just don't see them.

Watching my older daughter prepare to move, I admired the fearlessness with which she tossed old photos, old papers but I had to apply my motherly shout to her process when she tossed her driver's license into the disposal file. I might have been overly stern because she, too, hasn't parted with anything since.

I purchase flat space. Another table. I purchase empty space. Another container. Another shelf. I have tables under tables, tables under chairs and containers under and on every flat space.

Paintings, frames, mats, books, papers, art supplies, cards, home videos, photos, vinyl records, VHS movies, music on cassettes, old Nintendo games, plants that almost died before someone brought them here, tchotchkes of my grandparents and parents which I can't bear to let go…the list grows.

Sympathy sometimes rattles through me when I think of what my survivors will face when I shuffle off this mortal coil (as some wise soul called it) and yet it perversely pleases me because I've requested that they wander through and take stuff with them rather than buying/bringing more stuff for me.

My garage is for storage - for out of season stuff, stuff for grandkids off to college, off to have fun, off to temporary digs. My middle granddaughter recently asked if I'd seen a bag of sand she picked up on a trip and stowed somewhere in my garage. The newest addition is a malfunctioning clothes dryer with a mixer perched boldly on top. Why not? The dryer top is flat. There may be something inside - I'll check tomorrow - that could be a good space for something.

If I become a qualified collector it'll be because of fluke rather than a concentrated effort to collect the right thing.


Fractal created in Fractal Explorer and post processed in IrfanView.

My Art Blog



Thursday, September 13, 2007

North of Pluto



a globe of confusion
marks its days by circles
like dogs follow tails

sutra disconnects
a crazy hook of moon
nirvana breathes its last

on a ball that juggled life
and lost, doorway beads
cartwheel down

a black hole marks
the double dark of night
as the final address





Fractal created in Fractal Explorer
My Bookstore

Nanowrimo, Cleaning, Coffee and Exercise

Two weeks from now, give or take, signup opens for Nanowrimo although writing doesn't begin until November 1.


I'll begin a third novel there and will start without a plot, a plan or a word written.

With growing understanding of what this entails, this year I'm prepared to delegate some of the daily chores.

iRobot saves my life with their nifty workers. Dirt Dog cleans my patio and garage floors, Roomba cleans the inside floors while I pound the keyboard.

Green Mountain's Keurig single-cup coffee brewer provides a fresh and fine cup in less than a minute - much tastier than pouring from a pot of old dark coffee and looking for flavor to hide the age. I also enjoy their teas and hot chocolate.

This session, I'll set a timer to prod me into periodic fifteen minute bouts of exercise. Two dances with the grim reaper in the last half-dozen years carry a reminder that it's not a good idea to sit in one place, holding breath, for extended periods of time while being pulled into a character's life.

A pot of paints, brushes and small watercolor papers occupy space near the kitchen sink for the times I need more colors than black and white.

So, with these thoughts and helpers in place, I'll face a blank screen for as long as it takes to get a character and action.

Will I see you there? Let me know when you sign up - it's fun to recognize others who are November noveling. I can hardly wait to open my head and see if anything's there.

Fractal created in Apophysis
My Lulu Bookstore



Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Drought's End



dawn
dragged
downpour
roused the creek
to dastardly course
skipping from original bed
whitewater rackets over the edge to valley's lap



Watercolor sketch 2006

This fibonacci poem came from prompt words: skipping, original, racket from 3wordWednesday
My Bookshop

Monday, September 10, 2007

My Imaginary Life


changed decade by decade, sometimes day by day.

As a child I dreamed of living in a library which shelved every book written and held an unlimited supply of paper and pens.

Later, my imaginary life included a restaurant at the library in order to avoid shopping and cooking.

I imagined a partner full of humor and intelligence who liked to travel and converse.

Later, I added a caretaker who knew how and when to dust, vacuum, prop up the fence and re-do the peeling paint on the house (inside and out) and who could mow and water the lawn as well as check the air in the auto tires.

Then I added a Michelle Kaufmann house, with a view aimed at the sun, to my imaginary life as well as high-speed internet.

Now, I have found a new imaginary life which is more fact than fiction. I live alone in an old ranch style house with canned food and a microwave, a Roomba vacuum which keeps the floors clean, and a computer with access to the largest library in the world. I key in my order for whatever I need and it appears at my front door. And, I have ordered DSL which may arrive soon.

The highlight of this more recent remake is that I have e-mail, telephone contact and weekend visits with incredible family members as well as strangers who are beginning to feel like family.

Who would have thought that I'd eventually produce this dream life? I reserve the right to alter portions of my imaginary life.



Tree of Change, small watercolor sketch by Sue

Prompted by Writers Island

Simplicity Haiku



Campfire heat
Chilly morning sun
Perked coffee


Overhead
Moon in harvest round
Lights the way


Less than more
Simply sufficient
Occam's rule


Hip waders
Fly rod, white water
Saturday



Fractal created in Apophysis
North of Summer is available at Lulu Publishing
Prompt for One Deep Breath Haiku

Friday, September 07, 2007

Writing at Sunday Scribblings


Reading, writing, listening and art are so closely related it's hard for me to delineate where one starts and another leaves off. Oftentimes, I stop one process to begin another.

It surprises me to write something and, before the day is out, find that whatever 'original' thought or word I wrote turns up in a similar context by another writer. Or colors I choose for fractals or watercolors are those I see during the day.

Today, by accident and good fortune, I discovered the writings of Wendy Videlock. After reading as much of her internet poetry as I could find, I listened to several podcasts which included her work. In fact, I listened to one particular poem non-stop for an hour. Her style is different than any I've heard recently.

By then, my mind was reeling and the need to write overwhelmed me but nothing I wrote is earthshaking or even mediocre. But I haven't given up. I'll read, listen, write and paint/design again. Each action is inseparable as well as a learning process.




Thank you for sharing the Sunday Scribblings!

Impatient



She pulls the plug
on dying snapdragons
pansies long since gone.

Summer, long and hot,
created the first casualties
conquered the immature

filched the feeble garden
from this brown-thumbed
sower of impatience.

She cannot wait for the end,
the watering can
holds nothing but dust.



Digital photo converted to black-and-white


Near Year of Tumblewords Blog available as e-book at Lulu Publishing

Restless Friday


Pacing, with coffee cup in hand, I wanted a new project. A short one.

Photo Story is a free program from Microsoft and I'd used it for several small videos for the four-year-old. It's quick, easy to do. And, Blogger recently began accepting videos for posts. Hmm. Right up my alley for the next part of this morning.

Hummingbirds. That's how I feel. Quick, restless, ready for migration. Like sugar overload. I opened the program and selected several photos and a slice of Amadeus for background.

Here is the result. If you're on dial-up, like I am, this may take a minute to load. I think the next one I make will be better.


video


North of Summer, a Decade of Poetry, is available on Lulu Publishing.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Ocean Froth



wild waves
mortar and pestle
pound for pound
converting stones
and shells
to golden sand

with artistic chic
saltine sprays
designer glaze
on sunglasses
spreads glitter
on driftless wood




Original Watercolor, Shells and Bones


Prompt from ThreeWordWednesday

Tumblewords Near Year of Blog is available as an e-book at Lulu Publishing

Transition


Summer's last gasp, although there'll be whimpers for another few weeks, was filled with fun and followed by exhaustion.

Monday, the four-year-old exhibited his first bend-over, fall-in dive from the top step of the pool into the depths.

He gathered fallen pears with the first blush of pink for slicing. We invented unusual s'mores - a slim slice of pear atop an Anna's Thin ginger cookie.

Our first paper airplane sailed onto the house roof. He suggested waiting for the breeze to blow it down but I tugged the ladder from the garage and achieved a wide-eyed rescue.

Tuesday, I noticed new leg bruises from ladder rungs and realized the paper airplane wasn't folded correctly. Hadn't I learned anything in school?

Wednesday, I admitted it's time to let go of my favorite season and to get on with autumn's chores. Let's see now, where did I put the comforters and socks?



Fractal created in Fractal Explorer, modified in IrfanView.

Abstract2 is published in the current edition of Blood Lotus. Three digital photos carry Editor's Pick brands on Better Photo.

Monday, September 03, 2007

Grandparents




Zesty smile
Eyes that knew it all
Grandmother



Lynx lithe
Fuzzy tufted ears
Grandpapa


Bee busy
Honey dispenser
Grandmama






Prompt from One Deep Breath ~ Haiku

Lilacs - original watercolor sketch

Tumblewords Near Year of Blog is available as an e-book at Lulu Publishing


Sunday, September 02, 2007

Nostomania


'I wouldn't if I were you.'

'You're not, Mom.'

'That's what I said. If I were you.'

'I wouldn't do what you do, either. You don't do anything except wait for life.'

'There's a difference between using sense and jumping off that bridge with a rubber band on your skinny ankle.'

'Jeez. It's a bungee cord.'

'Doesn't matter what you call it, Son. It's not enough to keep you from disaster.'

'I haven't decided for sure, but the other guys are pretty much committed. I'll think about it.'

Their last conversation echoed through every night. Someday, she'd jump. But not today.



For Sunday Scribblings, The End