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 |   Poetry and Prose about life, family, thoughts & Lesbian concerns of heart |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Come in for a visit. I write about my life as a daughter, mom, grandmother, friend and life partnership with my lesbian wife. You may smile, laugh or cry, either way you'll have learned about life in America since 1938. ANN And, my friend, I understand because all my silent years I was so deep into my church and Christian activities and feared 'sin' and felt shame when 'sex' was mentioned. Nobody spoke of the "horrible" sin they would not name (the rape of a child); At the same time, I watched ministers and deacons and Sunday School teachers sneaking around committing adultery, while I desired and lived 'without sin' as I knew sin to be as I was taught. I thought and studied the Bible and realized how today's preachers and teachers condemn only what they don't do or what a church leader has said to condemn; I've seen the woman run out of the church but not the man; I saw enough, and I knew the heart of love within me, from all through my life had its focus; it was never about 'having sex'. ...Heck, I didn't know about homosexuality until my college years; then I understood my heart and there was never a sexual thought associated with anyone before my marriage to the man who 'chased' me three years then almost murdered me 16 years later as my children heard the physical fight. After that I stayed single Mom, never dated, just had many friends and my children. Finally after raising my grandson, and knowing my own heart would never ever seek love from a man, I acknowledged that all my life, all of my relationship experiences and feelings clearly showed I had a heart that was drawn romantically with deep love that I could not ever express. Then I moved to Portland, came out and you know you can read the rest of the story. I know how God created my heart. If I don't believe God created me as I am, how could I live? It has nothing to do with 'doing' anything at all; it is 'being' as my Creator created me. ............................................................................................................................................................................................................ I retired in Idaho then moved to Oregon to show my pride as a member of the latest hated group across America: I am a lesbian and when I came "Out at Sixty", I came with pride and joy that I no longer had to hold the secret or carry the shame thrown at gay men and lesbians. With that same pride, I accept all persons and their right to be who they are and live with joy, peace, and the pursuit of happiness. I took a writing course at age 69 and began to write short stories, poems, essays, Op-ed comps and I found Writing.com where I am an Advocacy Writer, writing as an advocate for every person to have Civil and God-given rights each day as they pursue happiness for themselves and their families. Yes, most of my writing has been about gays and lesbians, however, I believe every person in the world shares the same heart and spirit to live peaceably with all peace loving people; while seeking to change the minds of those who live with anger, hatred, prejudice, racism and such. |
| Prompt: Which season of the year may represent you? why? I think of my sister, Linda, who died at 57, as Spring with bright colors, excitement with new things in all of nature, beginnings of amazing colors. She was loved for her outgoing, lively, humorous, fun and at times, very serious, personality. She was fun to be with at every age of her short life. The serious times she struggled in life is like the beautiful flowers that sometimes must deal with hard rain and cold air. Me? Well, I think I'm autumn. Serious things are happening in nature as leaves turn and fall, summer's heat becomes mild, even cool; all of life slows down. I've always been serious about life and events while adapting to quick and major changes, not always for the better, but because I must adapt and be strong to deal with whatever's ahead. It's important to me to always come across as strong; like the oak and other trees which must brace for the coming winter to survive for spring. Autumn’s Arrival Autumn comes gently as morning breezes. Under marshmallow clouds, soft rains fall To nourish sun-burned grass, trees and all. Under trees, falling angels turning brown. Many children laughing, rushing to school. Now parents relax as the weather is cool. |
| "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 687: Monday, October 6, 2014 Prompt: Title: Journey of a Raindrop. Write story, poem, song, whatever with this title. Be creative and have fun. The Little Raindrop that Died Rainy was playing with many friends in a lovely white cloud on a sunny day before cold air made them stop their play. They shivered and started dropping lower and lower, then out of the cloud with sunbeams sparkling through them until soon, it seems, were making a rainbow of beautiful colors and Rainy turned to be a perfect sky blue, then fell to the earth, dampened with dew, until the sun threatened and came to play. Then, Rainy disappeared until another day. Rainy's Journey Wisps of white clouds Layered the sky. Brightly white sunlight Warming my eye Until cold darkness Turned things gray. Too cold for me now, I shiver; needing a way To lower elevation, warmth Or will freeze and die In a dreadfully bad storm. Down I travel to try Some warm air and stay alive. Oh me, Oh my, colors galore Beautiful changes through me, Red, blue, green, and more Making me happy as I fall away Into green grass with a friend. We snuggle together in a puddle, Waiting for our life’s end. Then come more raindrops, a lot, Now we’re a stream Flowing fast and faster ; I’m not the same; it’s like a dream. Now I’m a river, raindrop no more. |
| "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 677 September 26, 2014 Prompt: When you think of succulence, do you think of a food, person, plant, or something else. Tell us what the word brings to mind. Succulent, succulence, what the hell does this word mean? I'm thinking it's about something like a delicious tasty dessert. If not, then I'm in a desert without knowledge.  I just looked up the definition; no more } because I was correct about the meaning of the word. Don't know why I was worried that my idea of its meaning was wrong. Succulent Frosting on the Cake Meeting her that particular day My feelings scrambled in a way Filled my heart's desire with love Unbelievable for t'was never known; Until that moment I couldn't say I knew first love as a person 'gay' Who recently acknowledged my way Of listening to my heart, its way of knowing love and all it means. Her voice was smooth, soothing, in a deliciousness, I had not known Until that moment. Her lips soft and perfect, so fully blown and luscious, my own trembled at the beauty facing me. She licked those luscious lips and the moistness reached within my soul, my heart, and my own mouth watered to feel them in tenderness, kissing mine. Her eyes gleamed with color bright and blue, drew me in yet, it was too soon for my swooning over succulent lips; I must wait for the perfect moment when she may choose to share the succulence awaiting within my every thought and emotion that the first succulent kiss would mean forever with her was my future; ahhh, dreamily, I await and the moment comes; "Oh, so delicious, so succulent; My life and heart changed, in love." Her name was Molly and we've had fifteen years together since then. |
Murphy's Laws Mother's way is best. If you don't believe it, ask her. Murphy's Law Murphy's Laws apply to life Makes excuse for every strife as if all is avoidable and nothing adorable. Murphy's got laws about mothers as well as all of life and many others. Say "Mother's way is best" Then gives a special test. Says "If you don't believe it" do more to find if it's a fit. My mother always knew best and for her, was never a test. If I asked her about her way, She knew just what to say, "Just ask me; I'll tell you 'yes' My way is always the bes'" "Mother's way is always best; If you don't believe it, ask her." Every time I doubted her way and choose my own, she'd stir up a fuss in many ways; so determined I would do all her way; I never like that path so I chose to make everything go my way. |
| How do you show appreciation to an elephant? Write a story or poem about an elephant. You're kidding!! I've never talked to an elephant. An elephant doesn't speak English How can I ever talk to him? I wish elephants understood. O Shish, no way to get close, due to swish of his tiny tail and trunk; I'll miss getting close enough to whis- per in his ear to say, "A kiss for you, Elephant, then kiss his ear and know he'll accept my appreciation. |
| "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 670 September 19, 2014 Hi Everyone,I hope you are feeling creative. Maybe try writing like Samuel Beckett, "Waiting for Godot" which is a Absurdist Play. Just food for thought, on trying something different. You've been to this place before but you can't remember how or when. The stars are so bright that they are almost blinding you. That familiar blue flash grows louder and louder and your body pulsates with pain. "Not again", you say but you aren't quite sure why. Write about the events leading up to this scene. I'm breathing so hard. It's from fear not from running or other exercise. There's something about what's ahead causing me to dread this place like I dread death. I wish I could remember what all this means; has this happened before or am I remembering some nightmare? If it wasn't so dangerous, I'd turn back but I know what's there and I can't deal with it again. Damn fear, go away. Take deep breaths, relax. It can't be that terrible. The sounds; they make my whole body tremble. I've never heard such weirdness before; or have I? I can't see a thing; it's like I'm in a cloud, steamy moisture in the air is weighing me down. God, what's happening? I'm remember spirit like they're flying around me, hitting me with cold spongy fins or feathers. The light doesn't give me light; it's blinding. What the hell's ahead of me. No, no, I can't go on. I, I, I'm going to faint; no don't faint or you're doomed into something unimaginable. No, don't fain..... |
| "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 668: September 17, 2014 Day 668: September 17, 2014 Prompt: What is your favorite musical instrument? Why is it your favorite? Write a story, poem, or anything you want about it. Have fun. Be creative. I write I don't read music I don't play musical instruments I can't carry a tune on key I write I don't do music Music is beautiful. |
| *People*: Sent to members of "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 659 September 8 Day 659: September 8, 5014 Prompt: Write anything you want using this words clown, discredit, small, butter, tempt, towering , mouse, stir . ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** for showing yourself,not being afraid to do it:You are inspirational.A.J. Lyle:Ann:honoring "OUT IN LOVE". You're helping to open minds against gay's relationships,and supporting those struggling with their sexuality everyday."Joy |
| Day 645: August 25, 2014 Prompt: Write a story, poem, or lyrics about enchanted wheelbarrow READ IT FAST The Magic Wheelbarrow. Little Timmy Jones, eating snowcones, was filled with glee under a Christmas tree. The big wide package which he found while checking round turned out to be a wonderful wheelbarrow that was full of candy, nuts and toys. His excitement and joys brought friends to play; Friends came that day to ride with him, go for a swim, then get in the barrow, say "tomorrow" and fly high in the sky everywhere like magic not airsick, but very glad then so sad when "pop" the magic stopped and the barrow made them sorrow because that day the magic went away. free verse with rhyme designed to look like a his Christmas tree with packages under it....well, sort of... |
| f "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 640: August 20, 2014 Day 640: August 20, 2014 August was named after Augustus Caesar in 8 BCE. In Latin the names are Augustus mensis (Month of Augustus) and sextilis mensis (Sixth Month). The Ango-Saxons called August Weod Monath (Weed Month). Write a story or poem using one or all of these name for August. Have Fun Announcement for August August may be the sixth, the hottest month, when highest heat on summer days mushroomed the growth of all the weeds in fields where we had to work, never play; Where my father planted rows of corn and cotton amongst the tallest weeds nature could have gotten. Now I learn it is also called "weed month" by some; Teasing me now for I hated those weeds, son-of-a-gun! The weeds were worse those August days, but something good happened that month; A baby girl on a hot August morn, joined the world, for I was born. |
| f "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 639 August 19, 2014 Write about something that is true at first light, false by noon. *Bigsmile* Joe Smith looked across the crowd and stopped to stare at the gorgeous blonde with a red bow in her hair. She smiled, he winked then she smiled again. He thought to himself, "That's my woman. I've got to get through this crowd and find her again. With a smile like that, she's already falling in love with me." He grinned and began to push through the crowd to where he had last seen her. The night and the crowd were noisy as the band played and people danced; some had their beer cans in their hands as they danced and laughed. Joe never gave up; he was determined to find the blonde with the red bow in her hair. With the beer and being pushed around by the crowd, he was getting exhausted. Even so, he wasn't ready to give up. His heart was throbbing and his insides excited and his organs were ready-ing for meeting the woman he was telling himself, loved him. He was sure she was traipsing through the crowd looking for him. The hilarity and excitement of the crowd finally began to wane as people became sleepy or too drunk to keep celebrating. Many were asleep next to the trees and cars but the central crowd was still dancing and drinking. Joe saw a woman with her back to him. There was a red ribbon in her blondish hair. He rushed through the crowd, never taking his eyes off her. Finally, he was close enough to touch her shoulder. "Hello Beautiful," his voice was soft and loving. The woman turned. Her old, wrinkled face with a cigarette dangling from her mouth, wasn't what he expected. In her low growling voice, she said, "Hello boy, want a kiss; maybe something more." She grinned as he rushed away. As daylight covered the scene, few people remained standing around. Most were lying around the area, asleep or drunk. Joe saw her. This time he knew it was the same beautiful blonde he had been searching for. Even though she hadn't looked at him again, he was sure his heart had met hers in that single smile. Slowly, he walked to her side, then turned to look at her. "Hello, Beautiful." He just knew with all his being that she was drawn to him. She turned to look at him. "It's me." Joe patted himself on the chest as he smiled to engage her. She never smiled as she threw the remains of her icy drink into his face and walked away. Joe was stunned. He sat down, his face in his hands. "How'd this happen? |
| "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 638: August 18 Day 638: August 18, 2014 is Bad Poetry Day Prompt: Write a bad poem. I wonder if I'll ever see a silly girl a lot like me; a girl who never wears a dress, and loves to kiss and to caress me warm within her arms and tell me of all her charms; a girl with a heart so true, never giving cause to make me blue; a girl who'd choose to be my bride and always be near, alongside to tell me just how good I am and enjoy turning on the charm; a girl who'd want to marry me and always want to happy be my wife always day and night, to never ever start a fight. That's the kind of girl I choose; with her I can never lose. by Ann |
| DAY 635 August 15, 2014 Prompt: You are on a long flight when you reach into the pocket of the seat, you discover a handwritten note that clearly was addressed to you, but how? And what does it say? The call came over the Intercom, "Flight 442 now boarding at Gate Four". Knowing it was going to be a sad trip since I was on my way to my mother's funeral, I was especially sad about leaving. My sweet wife opened her arms, "Ann, I'll miss you. Honey, be careful and don't let your brothers give you any static. I love you very much." I hugged Molly and we shared more than just a peck on the cheek kind of kiss; then I picked up my briefcase and went to the gate. At the gate I turned and waved then blew a kiss at her. After the plane was in the air, I went to the restroom for business and to rinse my tears from my face. Then I went back to my seat. Deciding to read the magazine in the pocket of the seat, I pulled out Time magazine and along with it came a white envelop. Outside the fold, it read "the woman in the red jacket" and since I was wearing my nice wool jacket with white blouse and black slacks, I opened the fold, and was stunned. The note read, "I saw you, bitch when you kissed that woman. You had no right to do that in front of all those children and Christians who hate your kind. Homosexuals have no right to even live. I'll be watching every step you make when you get off the plane and I can promise you, you will never go anywhere again nor kiss another woman." I burst out in tears because it made me so angry. Anger on top of grief is overwhelming. I gave the letter to the stewardess but don't know what will happen next. I'm sitting here in total shock and fear. ANN |
| Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 631: August 11, 2014 Prompt Day 631: August 11, 2014 Prompt: The flower of the day is Lily of the Valley. Write a poem, story, or anything about Lily of the Valley. Have fun. |
| Day 627: August 7, 2014 Prompt: Today's prompt is "I knew it was going to be a bad day." Have fun and take it anywhere you like. Jake took another gulp from his beer and laughed, "when I saw her again, I knew it was going to be a bad day." His guffaw was loud and his manner as boisterous as any drunk could display. His buddies, Joe and Larry, laughed with him. "So, what was the big deal?" Joe tossed his empty beer can across the porch and into the half-filled box. "What's she do to tick you off?" "She held up a baby and told me, He's yours, Jake. And you're gonna pay every dollar for his care, and enough to support me because I now have to babysit instead of going to work." "That's enough to make any day bad. So, are you doin' it?" Larry took a dollar from his wallet, "Here, I'll help you a bit. I'm just glad I had my Trojans when I had a night with her." "Me too," added Joe. Jake finished the last half of his beer and threw the can at the box. He missed it. "Darn! I missed my target and I'm paying plenty for her and the baby. Damn judge didn't see it my way. She's costing me half of every paycheck. Worse, if I miss a payment, the judge said he'd have me in jail workin' for him." "Better keep it in your pants next time; or at least, carry your condoms in you pocket." Joe threw his pack of Trojans at Jake. "Hell, Man, I'm between a rock and a hard place." He laughed. "And I'm never gettin' a hard-on again." Larry stood up to leave. "I feel sorry for you Jake, but you've taught me a big lesson. Thanks for that." "Lar, I could use more than a dollar. She's robbin' me of everythin'." "Like you said, Jake. You knew it was goin' to be a bad day." Larry stepped of the porch, turned and wave, "Have a good one, Jake. See you, Joe." Jake stood up, "Joe, I'll get us another beer. Maybe I'll even cry in mine." "Man, don't get blubbery on me. There's no cryin' in beer drinkin'." "And there's no way to change a bad day into a good 'ne. Dammit." Joe went inside to get the beer. |
| Have you ever written a poem, short story, or essay while you were listening to a piece of music? If so, how did listening to the music effect the story, poem or essay? If not, what is your favorite relaxation music? When I taught "Creative Writing" to eighth grade students in 1960, to inspire creativity, I played the classical recording of Grand Canyon Suite...the storm. The music itself brought forth pictures of the incoming storm, the rain, the clouds, and eventually the suddeness of the moon returning to cover the canyon. The poems of that day were the most beautiful, inspiring and wonderful they wrote all year. Yes, even the usually chattering boys and the girls listened with their eyes and wrote beautiful words. Soothing music with a gentle voice speaking magnificient words is most imspirational to me. Recently I recorded "Echoes of Creation" on PBS as the soothing music. A lovely voice spoke of nature while the scenes of beautiful American water, forests, fowl flying, and such played across the screen. Each time I listen to it, a poem just writes itself with phrasing and rhythm of its own, fills the page. Here's one of those poems: Nature's Portrait Floating wisps of cotton in the blue sea above, Moist, velvet grass sharing its space, my palette. The drumming cadre of crickets' click, click click, Like the shouts of approving circus crowds. Wisp of cold breezes swing among elm leaves, Gently rustling tendrils of orange and brown, As they touch the carpet below, tap, tap, tap, To lie in silence waiting for winter's freeze. Spring days lengthen as the warmth, sun's fire, Awakens the trees, grass, the atmosphere. free verse |
| DAY 625 August 5, 2014 Prompt: Can you single out a perfect meal? What was your experience either making it or eating it? Were you alone, at a party or with someone memorable? The most memorable meal of my life, was Thanksgiving nineteen sixty five when mother and father visited me and my precious family. It was Dad's last before he died, when remembering the meal, I've cried because it was the last I'd ever eat of Dad's cooking; it was a treat. In my kitchen in Idaho, I ate so much and wanted mo' of delicious dressing and the turkey which he made without a recipe. His recipe was perfect, all his own; I wrote it down by the phone si I'd remember for many years how he cooked; puts me in tears because he cooked it with great pride, then they drove home and Daddy died. |
Her Beauty Her beauty was not worn in the wrinkles, nor the sunlight marks of darkened freckles. It was in the golden smile of peace and love which breathed over her face as if God above had warmed her heart. When she walked across a room, or even graves, the air carried her beauty with gentle, flowing waves toward young children sharing kindness and delight, or she knelt beside her elders to listen to their plight; never in a hurry. Her beauty, never marred by frown or pout, but lived in outward motion, without clout or pride, but with sweet humility to each soul she met along the path from pole to pole; none was a stranger. If there was one who could not see the beauty, it would have been the one filled with jealousy toward the love she received along the way as she lived the sweetness of peace each day. She knew serenity. free verse with rhyme |
| prompt: use the 26 ABC's to describe yourself in a poem. The Poet Ann is my name. Beverly, my first name. Cute as an elder lady. Dull, me? Sometimes, maybe. Enthusiastic writer I am. Funny, yes when called "Mam". Gross is my life's maiden name. Honorable when I take the blame. Interested in learning another tongue. Jealous only of those who're young. Kindly in my conversation. Loyal in each situation. Mother of three, one's a Baby Boomer. Nervous when using an old hammer. Open to accept each person as they are. Poised and delightful in a gay bar. Queer is a welcome word since I'm out. Relaxed even when others yell or shout. Sensitive to the feelings of others. Thoughtful, especially to my elders. Understanding of people dealing with strife. Veracity is the hallmark of my life. Winsome when relaxed in a crowd. Xtra happy and gay as the lesbian I'm proud. Youthful even at this old age which I am. Zealous as a poet and in all my charm. Acrostic poem using 26 of the ABC's to Z beginning each line to describe the poet. Free verse in rhythm and meter with rhyming couplets ending with triplet of same ending sound. July 19, 1918, My father's birthday. He lived only 47 years, and died in an instant of brain anyoeurism when I was 27; I still miss him. I am so like him in personality and intellect. He was always proud of me and I know he respected me highly and loved me devotedly. Sadly, his early homelife and WWII were difficult years so he became an alcoholic; that never kept him from being my dearly beloved father for those few years during which he guided me with a wisdom and love I truly cherish and how I tried to be as a mother. |
| DAY 601 July 12th, 2014 As a sentient adult, you are very aware that life is not a bowl of cherries or a paper moon. So what is it? Pick a metaphor filling in this statement LIFE IS JUST A surprise package filled with all colors and flavors of jellybeans, and each one is wonderful and perfect, even the sour cranberry jellybeans which draw your face into a frown. Every morning is a new opportunity to participate in life, to meet new people, to learn something new, to accept every human bean, being, for who they are as a person with hearts like all others. It's not the color or the difference in flavor that is important, it is each person as created with the heart of the same God. None are unworthy in any way although there are ugly criminals among all the colors and differences who deserve punishments which the rest of us can mete to them under the laws of our lands. Every thing that comes to us in life teaches us something more as a human bean, being, and adds 'flavor' to our lives. When we accept every person and every experience as something from which we can learn, we are becoming a better human bean, being, and we are able to make life better for all human bean, beings. Learn something important each day of life. Enjoy all the colors and all the flavors and life will teach us all how to get along. |
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