Your hobbies help define you – NaPoWriMo Day23

Posted on April 23, 2011 by moonbridgebooks

This morning I was in charge of the face painting table at the church’s Easter Egg hunt extravaganza sponsored by the youths. Thought I’d have to help paint a couple hundred little faces, but once the paints were set out plenty of teens zoomed in to take over. I am pretty much retired from professional face painting – it can be hard on the back – but I have loved it. Very rewarding to see eyes light up and hear the awed thanks from happy kids, and I don’t have to worry where to put the art I make as it just walks away. So creative, too: “Can you do a princess?” “Will you make me into a tiger?” “I want a turkey.” Well, there was that one time I turned a little boy into a tiger and he was afraid of himself and had to have his face washed off. Do you have a hobby you love? If so, that’s a part of who you are, probably more so than a tedious job. Maybe you want to mention it in your life story.

There is a special joy
In creating.
Something comes of nothing
And someone is happy,
Even if it’s only you.

(Gogyohka is a recent poetic form from Japan, easy for anyone to write. Five lines. That’s it!)

Linda Austin
“Cherry Blossoms in Twilight”
http://www.moonbridgebooks.com
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Bad memories and tornados – NaPoWriMo Day22

Posted on April 22, 2011 by moonbridgebooks

We’re pretty tired of big storms this spring. We’ve had a number of hail storms, and a tornado hit the airport area tonight – no one killed, but a loaded plane was lifted off the ground and the passengers couldn’t get off because of debris strewn around. People are stuck on major highways shut down due to debris, downed power lines, and tipped over semi-trucks. While my part of town escaped with minimal rain, I remembered a couple very deadly tornados from my past that I had put out of my mind. I remembered the gripping fear, one that lasted for years with every storm that came by. It is common to find your brain has hidden away details of unpleasant memories, but all it takes it a related incident to trigger them. Then you decide whether you’re brave enough to pull the details out of the drawer and lay them on paper.

In Remembrance:
Huntsville, Alabama, November 15, 1989 (21 dead, 263 injured)
Plainfield, Illinois, August 28, 1990 (29 dead, 353 injured)

I don’t want to remember

The times when the wind
Ripped leaves from trees
And skies swirled green-black.
I don’t want to remember
The voice shouting over the radio,
“It’s a tornado, it’s a tornado!”
My heart turning to ice.
I don’t want to remember

Stories of black wall clouds,
Fields of dead cows, cars in trees,
People crushed at the dinner table.

I don’t want to remember
Being left alone in a big house
Not knowing what had happened,
While police sirens screamed
And the phone line was silent.

I don’t want to remember
Walking down the road
To find my old school destroyed
And teachers killed.

But I did remember,
And whenever thunder rolled
Over the mountain,
I had to pray that my heart
Would not stop.

Linda Austin
“Cherry Blossoms in Twilight”
http://www.moonbridgebooks.com
Posted in bad memories, poems | 2 Comments

Memories are nothing to sneeze at – NaPoWriMo Day21

Posted on April 21, 2011 by moonbridgebooks

Tree flowers are blooming! Actually I’m not excited: besides the delicate dogwoods the trees in bloom have flowers that are practically invisible. Oaks, ashes, birch, oh my! They are potent to allergy sufferers. And we can’t win in St. Louis this spring—when it’s not been warm, sunny, and pollenous (is that a word?), we’ve had loads of chill, rain, and mold spores. Mold and pollen have been my nemeses ever since my teen years when I cleaned out the stuffed garage for my mom, and tried to mow a field of weeds. If I’m silly enough to write a poem about allergies, it’s because they’ve been such a big part of my life. What in your life makes you sneeze, so to speak?

Danger lurked
In the cool, damp air.
I walked into it unaware.
There it was
Among faded layers,
Of yellowed newspapers.
It hid in stacks
Of ancient magazines,
Dusting pages in between.
I still couldn’t see it
Even when I started to sneeze
And my breath began to wheeze.
Ever since then
Library books are a lot less fun
Because my nose begins to run.

Linda Austin
“Cherry Blossoms in Twilight”
http://www.moonbridgebooks.com

Posted in poems, writing prompt | 2 Comments