Sunday, October 31, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
It was the year she ate almost nothing,
listened to ambulances scream in pain
outside her gritty apartment windows,
and bought a Saturday night special.
The year she obsessively watched reruns
of the twin towers collapsing.
The year she realized life
is a mechanical bull and
her inner thighs weren't
strong enough to hang on.
For more 55's,
For more 55's,
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Be still, my heart,
like the glassy waters at dawn
that take on the colors of first light
as eagerly as water takes on the hue
of paint still clinging to the sable bristles
when a color change is called for.
"First Light" © 2010 Meri Arnett-Kremian
Whisper to me what it is you want,
what things I have to learn
that I have turned away from.
I am ready now to heed your murmurs
if only you'll share secrets with me
like a second grader named Ellie
would share her lunch
with her best friend forever,
a little curly-haired moppet
with freckles sprinkled
across her nose like wildflowers,
whose blue eyes dance like
skipping stones across the placid waters,
a girl named Chloe
whose turquoise insulated bag
with matching thermos full of soup
was left behind on the kitchen counter
in her scramble to run for the bus,
because after all, Ellie knows as do I
that snickerdoodles taste best when
your mouth is full of laughter
and your heart has important things to say.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Mother Nature is a master teacher.
She shows us by example
how futile it is to hang on to something
when the time for hanging on has passed.
To blossom when the time is right.
And how to just BE.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
This 55-word stuff is incredibly challenging.
Even if you get a concept quickly,
executing the idea in such a spare format
requires editing and re-editing, constant counting.
55 words, no more, no fewer.
What stays and what's surplus?
Always mindful that every word has to count.
Plot trumps description.
Cohesive narrative required.
Yet for all the brevity,
you want to insert a twist,
bring an unexpected guest to the table.
Doodles. © 2010 Meri Arnett-Kremian. All rights reserved.
He went first. The graphoanalyst told them what to write.
She studied the exemplars, then said,
"Your wife is incredibly brilliant."
She paused. "What does she see in you?"
Chuckle. "Oh, I see. You're an animal."
Right on both counts.
Once lithe and agile. Sexy.
New substitute wife. Dumb blonde.
Same old spots.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Revisionist memories of
our first romantic getaway
when love held such sway:
cliffs plunging into watery depths
at the edge of the continent,
sky and water merging
Holding hands, poking around
galleries in Carmel,
me imagining forever.
You, professing undying love,
You, professing undying love,
secretly believing you'd find someone
better if you kept your options open.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Light gives of itself freely, filling all available space.
It does not seek anything in return;
it asks not whether you are friend or foe.
It gives of itself and is not thereby diminished.
May the silvery moon hanging in my sky
light your way tonight.
p.s. these shots were taken about 6:45 pm
Pacific Daylight Time today
just down the hill from my house.
A matter of five minutes makes such a difference
in ambient light.
Monday, October 11, 2010
It's grey again this morning.
Drops of rain hang at the pointy edges
of maple leaves at the tip-top
of the graceful maple
outside my upstairs window.
The uppermost leaves are showing
their seasonal fashions,
but the lower ones are still
garbed in green.
They don't seem to have noticed
that change is in the air.
Grey days sap my energy.
When it's sunny, I'm ready
to take on the world,
but when a blanket of clouds
settles between me and the Sun,
I just want to hibernate.
This day is different.
my little friend visited,
hovering a few feet away
so I'd be sure to notice.
Notice I did. . .
and felt the same surge of delight
I always feel when I see
that flash of green, the ruby throat,
the wings fluttering faster than
the speed of imagination.
It's hard to think about hibernation
when your heart has been touched
by a shamanic visitor.
Today, I am writing.
Just sent off an essay on nanny harassment
to be published on the new website
that's about to launch.
(Watch for my announcement).
Three short stories finished and shared so far,
one to go for my online writing class
on short fiction/prose.
I'm testing my fiction wings there,
in a safe place.
I'm getting ready for Susan Tuttle's
new online class Ghostly Figures.
A new week has begun.
Birds are chirping and calling to each other,
a symphony of sound.
And I'm thankful.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
I love wonderful little shops with names like
Bliss or Dwell or Luxe or Posh.
Places with one-of-a-kind finds handpicked by the owner.
The kind of shops where sweet scents say "welcome"
and everywhere you look, you're delighted.
The kinds of places where I'm surprised to find
things that say ME in no uncertain terms.
Not that I always have to take them home,
I'm paring down, not filling myself up
with stuff I don't need, no matter how enticing.
(OK - that's a goal. . . but I'm working on it. )
But oh my, it is a treat for the soul
and a field trip for artsy-types.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
My heart is full of sadness today.
Another child been bullied to death.
photo of Asher from the internet
To see a story from ABC News, click HERE.
Just thirteen years old and full of promise.
Bright, creative, sensitive. A capable student who
aspired to have a career in which
he could help others
when he grew up.
A joy to have in class, said one of his teachers
on his last report card.
Slight and short of stature.
unlike the Christian norm at Hamilton Middle School
in Harris, Texas outside Houston.
And also beginning to identify himself as gay.
Pushed down the stairs.
Subjected to repeated intimidation and aggression.
Put a gun to his head when he couldn't take any more.
Bullied to death for being different.
Asher, I'm lighting a candle for you.
And Phoebe Prince.
And Tyler Clementi.
And Seth Walsh.
And Justin Aaberg.
And Billy Lucas.
And all the other kids who were bullied to death,
whose names I don't know.
It's not just a matter of drafting
an anti-bullying policy in the schools
and then looking the other way
when the policy is violated,
claiming you don't know what to do
or who's responsible
or how to handle something
that's such an epidemic.
It's about creating a culture of tolerance and inclusion.
About fostering opportunities for kids
to work collaboratively and build community,
rather than emphasizing competition.
It's about celebrating authenticity
(in adults as well as children)
instead of beating it into the ground.
It's about right action.
It's about teaching compassion.