How will you spend eternity?

I didn't mean to scare you.  I just wanted to check in, really.  Make sure you know I'm still here.  That I'm not going on another one of my Tony Geary-esque three month hiatuses.  Side jobs got a little busy this week.  Plus, I'm poeming once a day for National Poetry Month.  It really is true what they say, a poem a day keeps other blogs posts away.

Also, I continue to name my future children.  (I'm really gonna have to get on the ball to get all this begatting done.)  My latest adventure in nomenclature has yielded yet another gem.  Are you ready for it?

Annie.

Little orphan Annie.  Annie, get your gun.  Annie freakin' Lennox!  Annie are you OK, so Annie are you OK, are you OK, Annie?!  It's classic.  I think she'll fit right in with little Luke and Adrian.

Picture, if you will, a dad and daughter walking hand in calloused hand through an overgrown meadow.  OK, so it's more of a yard that the dad hasn't mowed in four days, but it looks like it's been three weeks.  That's because the dad put out some Miracle-Gro a couple of times to try and save a fledgling tree, never once considering it would cause the grass to grow like the ever-loving national debt.

Anyway, back to our story.  The daughter pauses to ask one of those age-old questions that kids ask sometimes.

"Daddy, what's that three-foot tall purple thing growing by the house?"

Now that could have been a stumper.  But little does she know he's been waiting for this moment for years.  He looks down into those trusting eyes, pulls out his phone, swipes it from camera to video so that he can Facebook this immediately afterward, and responds with four words he's practiced and perfected.

"That's poke salad, Annie."

Sigh.  Raising my future children is so rewarding.  Will be, I mean.

I thought I'd close today with a short poem from my NaPoWriMo collection, a little cross-pollination if you will.  Also, ideally, this will help explain where the title of my post came from.


Beyond the blue
If I make it somehow
That first day

While everyone else
Is in a scurry to
See the Savior

I'll search out
He who built the ark
To discuss mosquitoes


"Every day 'fore supper time / She'd go down by the truck patch / And pick her a mess of polk salad / And carry it home in a tow sack..."

Roots

Us two

Fighting, at first
For the same ground
To escape the other's shadow
Then maturing
Content in our own petals
Yet forever sharing

An undeniable resemblance

Always side by side
Until someone
Picked you
Took you away
But if e'er you should miss me
Return to your roots
I am always here
Your sibling



April is National Poetry Month.  I am going to attempt to poem each day at my Poetry Wrecks site, home for wayward lyrics and disadvantaged poetry.  If I like any of them, I may cross post here, as I have done with this one.  For this, I was given an image of two flowers and challenged to write a 55-word free verse poem.

Winter Cranberry

My hands smell of "winter cranberry"
These halls, an "ocean walk"
Sixteen candles?
If only there were that few

There are photos in frames
And not the ones that came in them from the store
These throw pillows are nice
But why must there be so many
And so pastel

The refrigerator
Once a bastion of pizza boxes, flat 2-liters, and... ketchup
Now boasts of celery, beef broth, cream cheese
And unexpired milk!
(Which I've learned most of the world refers to simply as "milk")

Once prized possessions--
My favorite shirt from college
My Stars of Baywatch poster
Seem to be missing

So long, CJ
Farewell, Stephanie
Vaya con Dios, Mitch
I sob (inside)

The work of petty thieves?

No.

There is a woman in the house!

Sweet Home

Sweet home
Red state
My boy ain't gay
Wasn't raised that way
Don't care what you say

Sometimes
It's not black and white
Most times it's gray
But we were way
Too black and white
For too many days

School door's closed
Church bombs blow
Marchin' on for right and fair
Some still choose
To close their eyes
But I wish I
Could have been there

Would I have
Hidden in
Safety of my home
Would I have
Had courage to
Join in that glorious throng

Sweet home
Red state
But some of us
Are blue

Judge not
Lest ye
Grew up
In Dixie
Too

Let us bow our heads
And pray for all
Humankind
'Cause I believe God is love
And heaven is gonna be
Colorblind

Here lies IYROOBTY

My fans have spoken, clamoring for a new blog post.  By fans, I mean fan (thanks Sherri).  And by clamoring, I mean probably just being polite in that way that you ask someone how they are, all the while hoping they don't regale you with a five-minute tale of how their gout is flaring up again and their continuing gastrointestinal issues.

Saturday was my bloggiversary, so it seemed like as good a time as any for a new post.

I've been at this nine years.  That's a whole lot in blog years.  Ancient, really.  Look, I'm not blind, I can see the writing on the virtual wall.  When I think of all the dead blogs I've cut from my link list over the years, it's a sobering thing.  And soon, I too, shall join them -- the ghosts of bloggers past.

At this point, I'm pretty much the blogging Betty White.  Now if I only knew who the blogging Rue McClanahan was we could move in together and ride out these final golden years in style.

To kick off year number ten, I apologetically announce the creation of a new poetry blog.  No, seriously.  Why are you laughing?  It's my bloggiversary, try and control yourselves.  It struck me this weekend that the time has come for me to get things in order.  Here on the blog, I mean.  I wanted to have a place to keep all my poetry and lyric-y things together.  There'll be some previously posted stuff, some I wrote and never posted, and anything new I manage to scribe.  I'm calling it Poetry Wrecks.  Like Cake Wrecks -- except far less popular, but every bit as delicious! 

Speaking of end-of-(blog)life decisions, not a lot of people get a chance to do this, but I would like to take this opportunity to write my own eulogy.  Or is it an obituary?  Maybe it's only a eulogy if it's read aloud.  Either way, here goes, and you can fight amongst yourselves as to who gets to read it aloud.  You know, when the time comes...

Here lies If You Read Only One Blog This Year, age (undetermined as yet).  It expired on (TBD), suffering in its later years from long bouts of post-lessness.  The blog had been dormant and mostly unresponsive for more than (TBD) hours prior to its death.

Born May 5th, 2003, on AOL.  It was raised on AngelFire, before moving to Blogspot in October of 2003, where it spent the remainder of its days.

A contemporary of such infinitely more famous blogs as Dooce and Stuff White People Like, IYROOBTY enjoyed its greatest popularity in the years of 2006 & 2007, just before the explosion of Facebook when blogging would go the way of the cassette tape.

IYROOBTY was home to a veritable hodge-podge of topics, ranging from golf to General Hospital, Bama football to Brandon Walsh, frequently following the protagonist's never-ending, if sporadic, efforts to end up in Wikipedia or the Guinness Book Of World Records.  Its writings on Welcome Back Kotter and WKRP In Cincinnati are some of the only on the internet.  And to the very end, every post was ended with a carefully chosen song lyric.

It is survived by its author, Bone.  Although according to those in his inner circle, he is said to be completely despondent and reclusive.  More so than normal, even.

In the final days of his life, he revealed an unknown side of his psyche. This hidden quasi-Jungian persona surfaced during the pursuit of his long-reputed soul mate, a woman whom he only spent a few precious hours with. Sadly, the protracted search ended late Saturday night in complete and utter failure.  (Oh, sorry for that very out-of-place Serendipity interlude.  I just always wanted my eulogy to say that, and be read aloud by Ari.)

Other survivors include one (brain)child, the moderately successful writing prompt, Three Word Wednesday, which continues under new management; several invented fake blog holidays including NaBloSoThaDraWe, Blogust, and Blogtober (although survive might be a strong word for those); and a small but loyal group of readers whose friendship, kindness, and encouragement will not soon be forgotten.

In lieu of flowers, comments may be left on this post.

"And if you threw a party / And invited everyone you knew / You would see the biggest gift would be from me / And the card attached would say / Thank you for being a friend..."

Ode to Monday?

Monday
Why must you be so Monday
I dread you all day long on Sunday
So because of you half my weekend is basically shot

Monday
Why must you be so doggone Monday
Every week you're the same no fun day
What, suddenly I'm the Bangles now? Susanna Hoffs is kinda hot

Monday
I spend fourteen-point-two-eight-five-seven-one-four infinity percent of my life on you, Monday
And that's just wrong

Monday
The Mamas and the Papas sang about you, Monday
I'm running out of things to rhyme with Monday
Only you could make Tuesday not seem all that bad

Monday
They even gave you Monday Night Football and still you suck, Monday
Just thought of a rhyme so I'll put it here: runway
Like at an airport or a fashion show, OK I'm getting off track

Monday
Why must you be so cotton-pickin' Monday
Whatever Norse god you're named for must be pissed, Monday
If it were me, I know I would be highly displeased

Monday
Completely out of things now to rhyme with Monday
In Office Space they got a case of you, Monday
Which, if you didn't catch that, means you're like a disease

Monday
This song seems to go on forever like you do, Monday
The coach of the Orlando Magic is Stan Van Gundy
And I bet he hates himself because his name kinda rhymes with you

Monday
At this point I'm unashamedly using a rhyming dictionary, Monday
You make me want to crash my Hyundai
At a very high rate of speed into a large bed of kudzu

Monday
Still can't believe I spend fourteen-point-two-eight-five percent of my life on you, Monday
No seriously, it's really starting to depress me now, Monday
I wish there were eight days a week so it would only be twelve-point-five

Monday
In the history of the Gregorian calendar you've always been, Monday
I used to like Married With Children with Al Bundy
(Couldn't think of a line here that ended with live, or chive, or connive)

Monday
Why must you be so doggone Monday
I just googled "calculate the day of the week for any date in history" and realized I was born on a Monday...

Well... I suppose you're not all bad

"I was dreamin' when I wrote this. Forgive me if it goes astray..."

For my friend

If I took you for granted
I could not apologize enough
And if I kept you at a distance
Well, that's just how I've always been

And if we could have been something more than we are now
I cannot help but take my share of the blame
And my share is a lot

If I took you for granted
I could not apologize enough
And if I ever pushed you away
Well, that's just how I've always been

And if we could be something more than we are now
I cannot help but want to take that chance
If there is a chance to be taken

If I took you for granted
It was never my intention
And if I ever pushed you away
I don't want to anymore

And if it's too late
Well, that's just how I've always been

"Friends get scattered by the wind, tossed upon the waves, lost for years on end. Friends slowly drift apart, they give away their hearts, maybe call you now and then..."

April showers bring... something from the Bone-chives

I'm off to Cincinnati, where there is a 70-90% chance of rain all weekend. Hopefully, they'll be able to fit a baseball game in there somewhere. Even if there's a four-hour rain delay, the game doesn't end until midnight and there are only like fifty fans left in the stands, I'll be one of them. And there's a 100% chance of that.

This would have been a perfect opportunity for stop number two on the Blog Reality Tour. Unfortunately, I don't believe I link to any bloggers in Ohio. There used to be one in Kentucky, and maybe a couple in Tennessee, but I guess they've all found other ways to occupy their time.

I shall return on Monday. That is, unless a Reds scout notices my surprising athletic ability and the agility of someone fifteen years younger as I scamper to chase a foul ball, and they decide to hire me on the spot as a full-time ball boy. Or, ball man, whichever. Until then, and in honor of Earth Day, I am recycling a post.

It's poetry month over at Cooper's. (OK, so as I google it now, evidently it's National Poetry Month. Who knew!) So I figured I'd do a poem for one of my three posts this month.

I would never claim to write actual and decent poetry. I'm way too literal, and always end up feeling like somewhere the words have to eventually rhyme. I'm more of a lyrics guy. Lyrics without music, that's me. I think I would have collaborated well with Bobby McFerrin.

Now that I have hopefully lowered your expectations to a sufficient level, here is an attempt at poetry, originally posted in 2007:


Perfume hint caught
Memory sparked
That year I was in love

Eager heart leapt
Lesson relearned
Forever is but a word

Freely falling fast
Feeling remembered
And missed

Past replaces present
Eyes now tightly closed
Smile grazes lips

Midnight phone calls
Sultry afternoons
Slinky black dress

Past recedes to past
I'll always believe
I loved you best

"Ain't no sun. Ain't no blue sky. The wind blows cold now that you've gone away. And tomorrow, just like today, there's a hundred percent chance of rain..."

I remember January

I remember January
The cold and the gray
The fight we had
The sky so sad
It cried for us that day

I remember angry words
And no thing left unsaid
The icy stares
The way it tears
When you know love is dead

I remember January
Like it was yesterday
Praying for death
Gasping for breath
Watching you walk away

I remember darkness
I thought would never end
My cursed pride
Our last goodbye
Losing my only friend

I remember January
The loss and the regret
I remember
January
Because I can't forget

Someday

(This was inspired by the 3 Word Wednesday exercise. This week's words were: frequent, open someday)

someday waits on sun drenched sand
for lovers two
walking heart in hand
a lost and lonesome wind in search of sails

someday longs for stroke of pen
to close distance 'tween
long absent friends
someday sighs as stubbornness prevails

someday hopes and someday dreams
and forever someday frequent seems
promises someday often makes
yesterdays left in someday's wake

someday I'll make time for you
do all the things we meant to do
someday we'll go here and there
someday will be soon I swear

someday breaks in distant place
where promises are kept
and dreams are chased
father and son play catch in open field

"When you comin' home son? I don't know when. But we'll get together then. You know we'll have a good time then..."

3WW LXIII

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday. Each week, I will post three (or more) words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything.

Leave a comment if you participate. Many fun and interesting people might visit your blog.

This week's words are:
Absent
Notebook
Persuade

jealousies persuade
temptation persists
privacy ignored
notebook opened

secrets read
heart laments
guilt engulfs
notebook closed

betrayal confessed
trust fractured
love unravels
eyes absent

notebook opened

3 Word Wednesday LVI

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday. Each week, I will post three (or more) words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. I'll also attempt to write something using the same words.

Leave a comment if you participate. Many fun and interesting people might visit your blog.

This week's words are:
Initial
Knock
Weather

at last, autumn
it's initial attempts
repressed by stubborn summer
announces it's arrival

not with thunderous fanfare
or even a loud knock
but instead a familiar breeze

harvest moon, new weather
majestic colored leaves surrender
lazy hammock invites slumber

ere i drift away in dreams
my newly contented heart
whispers with much relief
at last, autumn

"Can't explain, there's something strange about the early fall. Its comfort leaving me without a care..."

3WW #54

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday. Each week, I will post three (or more) words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. I'll also attempt to write something using the same words.

Leave a comment if you participate. Many fun and interesting people might visit your blog.

This week's words are:
Caught
Eager
Perfume

Perfume hint caught
Memory sparked
That year I was in love

Eager heart leapt
Lesson relearned
Forever is but a word

Freely falling fast
Feeling remembered
And missed

Past replaces present
Eyes now tightly closed
Smile grazes lips

Midnight phone calls
Sultry afternoons
Slinky black dress

Past recedes to past
I'll always believe
I loved you best

"Most of what I remember makes me sure, I should've stopped you from walking out the door..."

3 Word Wednesday #50

It's a milestone week for 3WW! The 50th edition. There were actually two additional weeks at the beginning before I figured out what to call it, but since I've been counting, this is number fifty :) And it's all thanks to you. Because honestly, if no one else participated, I probably would have stopped this thing at least 43 weeks ago. Here is where it all began, if you're curious. Anyway, on with the show...



Welcome to Three Word Wednesday. Each week, I will post three (or more) words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. I'll also attempt to write something using the same words.

Leave a comment if you participate. Many fun and interesting people might visit your blog.

This week's words are:
Forgotten
Hotel
Obscure

obscure actress stars
poor cinematography
classic nonetheless

forgotten hotel
flashing sign reads vacancy
fateful rainy night

damsel in distress
she's just a stranger, mother
norman can't resist

3 Word Wednesday XLVI

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday. Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. I'll also attempt to write something using the same words.

Leave a comment if you participate. Many fun and interesting people might visit your blog.

This week's words are:
Gray
Fathom
Memphis

It's the lasting imprint
Of a cold, gray summer day
Thousands came and millions wept
Unable to fathom the reality

It's tears that never ceased
That you can't see, but feel
It's the music you can still hear
In your mind and in your ears

It's the feeling that others
Have tread these same streets
And the haunting sense that
Someone is just beyond your sight

It's the history in the walls
Echoes in the wind
Voices from the past
Shadows on the sidewalk

It's crossing the Mississippi
Feeling the ghosts surround
Knowing I'm almost home
Or maybe I already am

That's Memphis to me

"I'm walking in Memphis. Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale. Walking in Memphis, but do I really feel the way I feel..."

3WW XLIV

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday. Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. I'll also attempt to write something using the same three words.

Leave a comment if you participate. Many fun and interesting people might visit your blog.

This week's words are:
Cope
Revealed
Stick

tepid hands tremble
heart pounds in head
eyes glazed over
refuse every tear

faucet turned on
noise needed
weakness revealed
my deepest fear

mirror cracked
still reflecting
glaring, ashamed
i cannot cope

fingers clench
muscles tighten
a single stick
in place of hope

"We're all looking for love and meaning in our lives. We follow the roads that lead us, to drugs or Jesus..."

3WW XLII

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday. Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. I'll also attempt to write something using the same three words.

Leave a comment if you participate. Many fun and interesting people might visit your blog.

This week's words are:
Envelope
Negligible
Resent

envelope conceals paper folded
carefully chosen words penned
addressed, stamped, postmarked
fate is sealed

parcel ripped open carelessly
heart torn asunder instantly
words in red ignored
handle with care

resent not the messenger
the adage surely shant apply
when messenger and author
are the same

amid the ruins, one soul remains
feeling unloved, negligible
pen outduels sword
yet again

"Who needs a knife, when you can take someone's life, with paper and pen..."

3WW #30

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday.

Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. This is a writing exercise. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also attempt to write something using the same three words.

Leave a comment if you participate.

This week's words are:
Miles
Voice
Holding

Three Word Wednesday... Thursday... whatever :) So since I'm so very late, you get two entries this week. A haiku and a story.

I'll never know how
The simple sound of her voice
Can reach across miles

Touch my broken soul
Melt the distance, until I'm
Holding her again

There is a distance
That can't be counted. For it's
Far too great and sad

May ours be measured
Only by miles and inches
Never by silence

--------------------------------

As Jim walked thru the large, open room, there were only a few people scattered around, in groups of two, three, or four. He got to the first door and checked the name on it: Ramsay. This was it.

Opening the door, Jim saw the crowd of people he expected. Near the front, he saw the widower sitting by the casket. The old man seemed to be in a daze, as those closest to the deceased often are. Occasionally he flashed a grateful smile as people passed by.

Jim joined the line of well-wishers filing past the casket. As the line moved slowly along, soon Jim could hear the man's familiar voice. It was just as he remembered it. As if they had just spoken yesterday. But they hadn't.

They had not spoken in eight years. Not since Jim abruptly left the business and moved out of state. When Clark had become too old to run the business by himself, he was forced to sell it. That had caused the rift between the two men. Jim's emotions were a mixture of nerves and sadness. Could the fences be mended or would the coldness continue?

When he reached the front of the line, he extended his hand. In it, he was holding a family portrait. The old man saw the photo before he saw who was holding it. It was a picture of him, his wife, and their only child. He raised his gray-blue eyes to see Jim standing there.

The boy offered a handshake, and in a voice that sounded like someone else talking, said, "I'm sorry, Dad."

Jim Ramsay had driven over four hundred miles that day. He could have driven for the rest of his life and never covered as much distance as he did in that moment.

"I find the map and draw a straight line, over rivers, farms, and state lines. The distance from A to where you'd be. It's only finger-lengths that I see."

3WW #24

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday.

Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. This is a writing exercise. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also attempt to write something using the same three words.

Be sure to leave a comment if you participate.

This week's words are:
Wilted
Drawer
Ink

The wilted countenance
The single tear
The last I ever
Brushed away

Letters in a drawer
Pictures in a box
But those in the heart
Fail to fade

The hollow rooms
The silent spaces
I once craved
Now serve to haunt

Pen to paper
I try to write
But the ink
Has all run out

My muse
Has gone

"You could be happy, and I won't know. But you weren't happy the day I watched you go..."

3 Word Wednesday #20

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday.

Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. This is a writing exercise. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also attempt to write something using the same three words.

Be sure to leave a comment if you participate.

This week's words are:
Fleece
Spark
Drift

Out here on the sea, my vessel a float. Beneath a painted sky with friendly clouds white as fleece. The sound of waves crashing more than enough to spark memories of you.

Knowing I should swim against the current. Closing my eyes, I begin to drift. Feeling every undulation of the ocean beneath me. Not caring where it takes me. Not wanting to wake up from this dream.

After awhile--a moment, an hour, a day or three--my vessel comes to rest. Opening my eyes, I find myself far downshore from where I started. The progress I had made, lost. And I begin to swim back out to sea, against the current. The salt in the water burning my eyes.

Water washes over footprints in the sand so no one knows I was ever there.

Too many days, I let the waves carry me where they will.

"The storms are raging on the rolling sea, down the highway of regret..."