Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. It’s a Jungle By Marlene Cullen It’s a jungle out there. I’d like to peg Bumbling Unreliable Gardener, aka Bug, on a hook and let him hang until cured. Except, I wonder, is he at fault for my jungle of a yard? Should I have been more forceful in not allowing him to install a plethora of plants in my pursuit of a peaceful place? I discovered Bug on social media. He answered my gardening questions as if he was a landscaping guru. So, I hired him. Big mistake. Huge. He handed me an extensive questionnaire to compose my heart’s desire in a garden. Winding paths. Check. Whimsical. Check. Calm, serene. Check, check. I envisioned a landscape of pleasant plants flowing in meandering paths. No white plants. What I got was spiky plants here, there, everywhere….
Category: Sparks
Memorable writing that sparks imagination.
My Heart
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. My Heart By Karen Handyside Ely My heart is a newly uncluttered closet. Organized and cleared of discarded outfits that smothered the floor, made movement impossible, allowed no forward progress. The air, once static and heavy with body-image accusations, is now peaceful and fresh. Eerily quiet with a hanging row of color-coded dresses that don’t hurl recrimination and neatly stacked t-shirts, crisply folded and segregated. Controlled. Smelling faintly of the lavender sachet I’ve finally replenished on the bottom shelf… now that I can reach it. Favorite sweaters, unworn for ages, have been lovingly salvaged, gently removed from their hangers, and boxed for consignment shops and resale. Traitorous pants and blouses, once thought to be friends, are stuffed haphazardly into hefty bags to sit out on the sidewalk for donated pick-up. My heart is a freshly weeded…
Customer Service
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Customer Service By Su Shafer Mr. Wright came hobbling in today Leaning heavily on a cane He needed to pay his bill. His good knee has gone out His bad knee has been watching from the sidelines Still wondering about the replacement Promised a few years ago. But he had to have bi-pass surgery On a heart which has been hobbling along too. He had come straight from the dentist But was smiling anyway The droopy smile of a weary man “Getting old is so hard,” he said, Stroking the sparse fuzz on his head. “Is it really worth it?” “It is today,” I said smiling back. In the way someone Who is really glad to see you smiles. He nodded, his mouth drooping a little less. Su Shafer is a creative crafter, fabricating bits of writing…
Relinquishing the Wagon
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Relinquish the Wagon By CM Riddle Many of us go through life dragging a wagon behind us. Gripping the handle, we continue to pull it along while we try grasping at things ahead of us with the other hand. Imagine how much more we could attain if only we could bring ourselves to release that dang wagon. What could possibly be so important in that wagon, you may ask. Well, there’s a lot of history in it, I will tell you that. It is packed with cherished memories and painful experiences. It gets heavier every year. The grudges weigh a lot, and the guilt slows your pace. But with every step, tugging your wrist, pulling your elbow, and making those broad shoulders, which carry the weight of the world, so weary your, grip begins to slip….
Any Haircut Is Better With a Smile
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Any Haircut Is Better With a Smile By DSBriggs My hair is what? Old, graying and instead of wiry, fine. Since I have been retired my hair style is whatever takes no work and usually in need of a trim or cut. Haircuts, however, are so darned expensive that to save money I used cut-rate clip-joints. I decided to let my hair grow out. It eventually came down to my shoulders. I tried to wear it back with a French braid or bun or even a pony tail. This dream came crashing down when I no longer had the hand strength or coordination to use rubber bands designed for fine hair. Too klutzy to use hair accessories like combs or claws or barrettes, I resorted to clips. My friends were too kind to tell me that really…
Grandma Carrie
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Grandma Carrie By Robin Mills I remember the scent of my grandma Carrie, slightly sour mixed with ivory soap. I remember the click of her heels, the kidney shaped metal cleat meant to prolong the life of shoe soles tapping on the cold hard tile floor of their Palm Springs apartment. I remember seeing the white hoop cheese she used to stuff her home-made blintzes, nestled between her front teeth when she leaned in to whisper something in my ear, and her thick toenails covered in shiny red polish. Grandma Carrie came across the ocean as a child with her mother, from Kiev, fleeing pogroms and leaving behind some of her ten siblings who would never follow, only to be lost to concentration camps. They settled, living in a New York walk-up, likely shared with more…
Getting By
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Getting By By Ken Delpit Success used to mean acing a calculus exam. Success now means increasing a recipe’s called-for two tablespoons by one-third. Success used to mean deking a defender and swishing a jumper as time ran out. Success now means changing direction on the living room carpet and not tripping over the cat toy. Success used to mean getting several Jeopardy! questions before the contestants did. Success now means remembering why it is I suddenly got up from the recliner and walked into the kitchen. Success used to mean handling a ten-digit long-distance telephone number that is to be called, a ten-digit telephone number that is to be charged, and a twelve-digit billing number, all from memory, while tapping into a pay phone and thinking ahead of what I intend to say. Success now…
A Place in the Sun
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. A Place in the Sun By CM Riddle I often find myself writing about the past. It’s easy to remember and type the facts. But today I am writing about the future. Instead of facts, I’ll define the future and bring it into reality. My vision of the future is inspired by a song from the past. Tuning to Spotify I hear Stevie Wonder belt, “There’s a place in the sun where there’s room for everyone, gonna find me a place in the sun.” The lyrical line weaves its way through my thoughts and soon I imagine the most amazing place. A place without pain or suffering. A place filled with hope and everyday joy. That’s where I want to be. Suddenly an esoteric feeling hits deep within my bones. Not knowing if I will live…
Dancing Through Life
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Dancing Through Life By Diane Dupuis Dancing can transport you as you get lost in the music and lyrics, simply connecting with the beat, and potentially learning how truly magnificent our bodies are. We are all born to dance. Look at children. They dance in their seats long before they can walk. They don’t even need music. Unfortunately, as we grow, we learn to be self-conscious or feel “not good enough.” Many people stop dancing when the joy is gone, and all they feel is pressure. Added to that is the pressure of having the “perfect” form and the “perfect” dancer body. Some dance classes can add the stress of competition or feeling the need to fit in. Many studies have highlighted the amazing health benefits of dancing. Not only is it good for your heart…
A Break-up Letter
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. A Break-up Letter By CM Riddle Dear Time, Forget You! I am tired of the way you sneak up on me. Stealing moments and making plans that take forever to prepare, then the event flies by. I long for the days of following the sun and the moon and using its rhythm to play my own tune. You cause great stress upon me, as others in my life have depended on you so much that they expect me to follow you, too. Timecards, appointments, luncheons, and for God’s sake, Christmas! Give me a break, would you please? I mean, the way you slip through my fingers! And as if the ticking tocks you whisper in my ear are not enough, you decided to line my face and give me grey my hair. I need to get down and up…