%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   Poetry and Prose about life, family, thoughts & Lesbian concerns of heart |
|
** 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: Let's create a Halloween story or poem using these words: Gloomy, broken, white, spell, hatchet, bubble You may use them in any tense like break, broke, broken. It's the season, let's have some fun. Hansel and Gretel, two little kids Walked in the forest one autumn day They went too far and lost their way. Chirping birds and squeaky field mice Watched the little girl and her brother Wander around calling for their mother. In a stone house deep in the forest Lived a gloomy old woman, ugly and thin Had a broken nose and a long sharp chin. Animals in forest knew she was a witch Who boiled her poison in a bubbly pot And threw in the rats when it was hot. One day she ran with her hatchet in hand; All in the forest heard her ugly scream And hated her for being so mean. The witch saw the two children And put them under her spell Hansel stumbled, then he fell. She herded the children to her hut Locked them in a room without a light Gave them bread, not brown but white. "I don't like this bread," Hansel said "I don't like her, she's a bad witch." Gretchen grinned, "Just call her a bitch." |
| Prompt: For a moment today, time stands still but you can tweak one thing while its stopped. What do you do? I don't tweak but if I did, and in a moment time stands still, I would tweak, "People of the world, let's have peace. Let's stop all the bickering and killing of anyone who is different in any way. Let your guns be silent. No more deaths because of hate. No more bigotry because of how a person worships, loves or appears when standing before you. All our hearts are exactly the same in how they pump red blood through our veins and the same when looking into the face of someone they love. We can, you know. We can be a peace with all other people from this moment on. |
Prompt: Dr. Seuss loves fried green eggs and ham, what's your favorite breakfast? Are you going out? Or cooking it yourself? The Perfect Breakfast Ahh, breakfast. The perfect breakfast is no longer possible. My dear and precious mother prepared the perfect breakfast. She's gone now so I can only remember the perfect breakfast and enjoy it only in memory. It's been many years since I've been able to enjoy the most perfect breakfast a palette could want. Mother knew how to cook the perfect biscuits. I learned from her but could never master that perfect consistency of milk added to the flour, baking powder and salt. I've tried but could never knead the dough to perfection so the biscuit was flaky, light and perfect. While the biscuits were in the oven, she fried eggs, just right. I never saw her break or overcook the yolk in all those years. Then she would began to prepare the perfect white, country gravy. I've tried so often to put together the perfect amount of flour and salt then brown it lightly into cooking oil. When she did it, the consistency and color was just right, never undercooked nor overcooked. She added the perfect amount of milk to ensure perfect gravy then seasoned it with just the right amount of black pepper. Sitting at the large round oak table with my family of six, I had the pleasure of angels when Mother's biscuits and country gravy was the banquet meal. I wouldn't be surprised if God has called on her in His Heaven to prepare the ambrosia of the gods for Him; I can see her sitting down to the table with my father, sister, brother and baby brother, enjoying the perfect breakfast. Mother's recipe could never be copied although many cooks have tried. Maybe it was the love she added that made it the perfect breakfast. |
| Prompt: October 11 is "It's My Party Day". What are you celebrating? What do I celebrate? I don't celebrate at Christmas, Thanksgiving or other noted holidays. I celebrate waking up healthy every morning. Every day is a gift to me. Maybe when we reach our December years of life, we are more aware of the bonus, the gift, the honor of awakening to a new day, one more day of enjoying life. When I can get through a day with no illness or emergency, I celebrate. Seventy-five for a woman means I should still have eleven years of life left, more if my genes and health allow. My mother had a stroke at age eighty-four and died at eighty-eight. Her final four years were not happy or healthy because of the stroke damage. If God lets me have just one more day of good health, then I am satisified and grateful. I read this week that the median age of women dying has not been increasing. That is strange because men have gained five additional years of average life years, while women have not. The scientists believe it is because of obesity and cigarette smoking by women in these recent years. Has our freedom to eat and smoke caused us to be dying at an early average year? Maybe it has. Celebrate today like it is the most important day of your life. I will. |
| Prompt: Write a fictitious account of what happens when you and your friends (or family or coworkers for those if you do not have friends) get turned into what you dressed up as for Halloween. Have fun with this. read it fast Halloween Gone Awry Four adults dressed to go play As a witch, a spaceman, a ghost and a vampire, that day. Got in the car and drove downtown Rushed to the bar, just past a clown, Suddenly the witch began to fly And screeching wildly at all nearby. The spaceman raised high into the air As he waved his arms at everyone there. The ghost floated all over and to the ceiling Swept over many people who were kneeling. The vampire began to spit blood Someone hit him, he fell with a thud. The people shouted and ran out the door "Those are real goblins, they're people no more." |
| Prompt: Describe superhero you. Me, a superhero? How can that be? I can't fly like Superman. I can't climb like Spiderman. I can't disappear like The Shadow. I can't perform magic. I can only care, love and try in my human way to make life better for someone on the planet. All my life, I have been a helper. When I've seen a child needing attention to a hurt finger, I've been one to stoop beside the child, "kiss the hurt to make it better" or just given gentle attention to soothe the child's tears. When I've seen an elderly person struggling to move something too heavy for her, I've stopped to help. The elders in our society are being ignored too often each day by family members, so I take time to visit them. I have always had elderly friends whom I visit because of their need for someone to care. My story "A LIFE RENEWED" is about that kind of young girl, like I was, who takes time from her days to spend an hour with an elderly neighbor who has no family nearby. As a seventy-five year old woman whose adult kids and grandkids live beyond five-hundred miles, I'm deeply grateful to the young adults, Jennifer and Peter, and their children who visit me often; to me they are superheroes. My career as a teacher and a community project organizer and executive, was all about being 'superhero' to people in need. They were the institutionalized mentally disabled, mentally ill, hemophilias, elderly, handicapped children, hospital patients, and other groups with whom I worked to make life better in whatever way I could. When I became the Volunteer Coordinator for the state institution where seven hundred men, women, children, babies lived their lives, separate from loving families, because their mind was disabled; at that time the 'good' word for them was 'mentally retarded' instead of "idiot, imbecile, moron". (Why do we apply such ugly words to those around us with special needs? It's barbaric.) At that time in 1969, people who donated 'things' for our residents there, sent dirty, torn, old, outmoded, items of clothing or 'gifts' at Christmas. How ugly those donors were! I wanted to change that and I did. I went around the state informing ordinary healthy people that those in their care in the institution deserved better. Right away things began to change and within three months, we had only new items for Christmas gifts to the men, women, children and babies. People needed to be informed of truth and expected to do the better thing so I informed them. I made a difference. That's what it means for me to be a 'superhero'. I am a superhero when I'm doing something to make life better for people I meet. ANN I wrote this to describe the fear of my story's character and am sharing this because it is truly about ME and MY FEAR through most of my life. ANN My lifelong fear through teenage days until when I came out at sixty. Today I was asked to write about my novel character's fear. In that moment, I realized what had been my life's fear, most of my life. I have had many things going for me in my life. I completed high school with gratitude because neither of my parents had graduated from high school due to economic factors and limited income during the great depression. Being the first of both paternal and maternal generations, to graduate from college was the hallmark of my life. I was proud of my mother for getting her high school diploma when she was sixty years of age. During the years of realizing I had the heart of a lesbian,I lived in fear that someone would recognize in some way that I was different than my sister and most girls I knew.. Holding the secret within my heart while trying to be a normal teenager and college girl, took energy and constant awareness. Both at church and school, I had good friends among the boys, was chosen to be on their teams whether at church softball games or in the debate class at school. The boys were always my 'pals', my 'buddies', but seldom invited me for a date. It was often embarrassing to me among girlfriends when a particular guy asked me for a first date, but never the second date. I knew it was because consciously I was not flirtatious or 'huggy, huggy, kissy, kissy" when alone with a boy in high school or a guy in college. I worried that those guys would end up telling other boys that I might be a lesbian. My first kiss was memorable because I didn't know how to respond in a kiss so was embarrassed; never got a second kiss for four years. The constant fear of being "found out" was very real and may have even been one of the causes of the depression which often overwhelmed me. I had a strong sense of purpose and exceeded the goals I set for myself in the workplace after college; however, I was usually the only unmarried woman in the group. I knew other people at work made jokes about gays and lesbians, and feared they might talk 'behind my back' accusing me of being a lesbian. My fear was grounded because it finally happened where I was working during my thirties. One day a close friend said to me, "Ann, if you're a lesbian, I want you to know that's fine with me. I'm always your friend." In that moment, all the fear of my life filled my heart, mind and body. Suddenly, I went blank in my mind and felt hot all over as if I might explode. The fear felt insurmountable. After moments of trying to keep my composure, I asked the friend, "Who said I was lesbian? I've not done anything to cause such gossip." Then I went straight to the woman who had started the gossip as something bad and unforgivable, yelled my anger and stomped off in tears as my fear overwhelmed me. The gossiping woman was fired that week but for me, there was no more joy in working there at the Catholic hospital. I changed jobs after being passed over for a Vice President position; and later the Human Resources Director retired, then told me that I was discriminated against very clearly and should have sued.. I never have disclosed to people at work that I thought I was or knew I was a lesbian because I've known too many people still condemn homosexuality. After all, I know others have discriminated against me and treated me differently. That fear was always mine for sixty years. |
| Prompt: Some make it happen, some let it happen, some wonder what happened. Who are you? Of course, the answer to the above question is: Is "it" a good thing if it happens, will "it" help or hurt all concerned, will "it' make something better, is "it" legal, and similar concerns. If "it' is a good thing that will make things better for all concerned, then I am the one to MAKE it happen. If it will hurt someone or makes things worse, I am the one to FIGHT against it. An incident comes to mind that happened in my church during the early 1960;s election. When I walked into church one morning, the usher handed me a brochure telling me to vote for a particular candidate. I was furious that the pastor would campaign for his chosen candidate by distributing such brochures. I was a Social Science and government student in school and college who fell in love with the freedom we have in America. I knew it was wrong for anyone to campaign in and through a worship service where the people all had a right to vote their conscience their own way; it was wrong for campaigning inside the church at the morning service. I looked at my husband and said, "This is wrong, unAmerican, and against everything I've ever been taught about the separation of church and state. I'm going straight to tell the pastor and if he doesn't stop this distribution, I'll meet him in the pulpit during the service." My husband never stood strong for anything but he followed me to the pastor's study; I told him my opinion and that I would meet him in the pulpit during is sermon if he continued the wrong." He knew my reputation by experience and that I was respected as a leader, so he did stop the distribution of the brochures. I told him too, if you want to encourage people to cast their vote, that's ok, but you cannot campaign for a particular candidate or idelogy. Growing up, I was always very quiet, careful to not 'stir the waters', afraid to disagree with my mother or anyone, so self conscious I could hardly join a group conversation or speak up in any meeting. For that, one elderly lady at church had told me "you're so conceited". I think it was her critical remark that helped me to learn to stand up, do what was needed, say what should be said, then work hard to make the best things happen. I won't say I always made the best thing happen, but I did the best I could to bring together those who could make things happen. The 1980's were the years people, at least those in the work world, were taught the difference in how to be ASSERTIVE instead of just reacting. I have tried to be an assertive leader to make things happen when they might improve the situation, large or small. I relied on the famous book, "How to Win Friends and Influence People" to learn how to make things happen. Of course, I didn't always win, but I have tried to lead the way for the best to happen. |
| freeverse, abcb/dedf/ghgi/ rhyme Hypocrisy On the fields at Getttysburg, dying men called out to God, While in the hills and valleys of California, homes were warm, Hymns were sung in the churches and children played; Shouts of joy, laughter resounded where there was no harm. A nation torn and bloodied, a way of life dying in the east, Yet on western plains, people worshiped the same God And fought no one in their small towns, forests, everywhere. How could one nation under God, betray itself with war's rod? Southern states demanding rights to keep their slaves, Not counting them as human with hearts showing love, Chained, beat, raped, enslaved those with skin of black, Then sat together in churches on Sunday, looking above. Hypocrisy at its highest filled with evil, the Southern man Bejeweled his wife with riches made by slaves he took And called on God to bless his days and bank account, Pretending his wrongs were blessed through God's Book. |
The Haunting of Mary Jane On Halloween night long ago Mary Jane had so far to go, With her was puppy called Kokomo. She donned her funny, ugly mask and focused on the chosen task; preferring in the sun, to bask and give her body a lovely tan and attention from every man. For them, she was a personal fan, who smiled and kissed each ruddy face. She ran to and fro to every place wishing she had some powerful mace with which to scare the worst away and send him to some hell to stay so he'd never hurt her another day. Kokomo barked at what he saw and a goblin kicked him in the jaw. She grabbed her phone, called the law, Then saw the house not very far; Got to the door, lifted the bar And made a wish upon a star before she opened the painted door and saw blood all over the floor. then heard a green-eyed monster roar. She ran from there, the speed of light Rushing home in the dark night, Screaming loud with all her might, "I'll stay home next Halloween and play with dolls, they're really keen so I won't see monsters with eyes of green!" She kept her word for all her days Cared for Kokomo and other strays And with her doll she often plays. A Halloween story, just for fun, until you read another one. ** 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". "Ann:honoring "OUT IN LOVE". You're helping to open the minds against gay's relationships,and supporting those struggling with their sexuality everyday.Keep up the amazing work!"Joy |
| Begin a story or poem with - I saw what you did last night. "I saw what you did last night," said the President of the US to the dictator of the USSR the morning of October 5, 1957. You put the first earth satellite into outer space and named it Sputnik I. The world will always remember." October 4, 1957 happened and since that day it has been celebrated as the anniversary of the launch of Sputnik I. I remember that morning and the weeks following. I walked into the kitchen where Mother was making biscuits and Dad was drinking coffee. The radio was on and the announcer proclaimed the news of the day. "The USSR was successful in putting Sputnik I in space. Suddenly, we lived in a new world. Nothing would ever be the same. Man had proven mankind could do anything, even go to the moon. Even though a man was not in the craft named Sputnik I, it symbolized everything that would came later. Mankind would not spend another decade wondering about space, the outer limit of imagination. My first college class that morning was science. Sputnik I was the subject of all the chatter and the discussion that day. Science had opened a door to the space beyond our atmosphere, our world as we knew it. Sputnik I was the subject of the Sunday sermon. The door to the heavens was in the hands of mankind, unbelievable for the common man on the street or in the pew. That Sunday evening we walked out of the church building then stopped on the front steps and looked upward. There we watched the speck of light, like another star in the heavens, as it moved slowly, deliberately across the dark sky. All the other stars remained in place, perfectly still except the few that twinkled. "Can you believe it?" "Imagine that." "I still can't believe it and I'm looking right at it." "What will happen next?" "Well, it will either be a monkey or a man, one or the other." "In my lifetime, I remember seeing my first airplane and I wondered how it stayed up there. Now, it's something man put beyond the sky, so far beyond earth." "Maybe next year, we'll have a man out there." "Yeah, and we'll have men on the moon too." "What else can happen?" "Well, we can't say, 'the sky's the limit' now; we'll have to say either the moon or outer space or who knows?" That evening men and women, boys and girls, high schoolers and college students like me, knew we were living in a new world, a world far beyond earth. ann ** 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". "Ann:honoring "OUT IN LOVE". You're helping to open the minds against gay's relationships,and supporting those struggling with their sexuality everyday.Keep up the amazing work!"Joy |
Prompt: It is Halloween night and all the lights go out. What do you hear? As I grew up, the only lights were the Aladdin lamps with a small wick, a glass globe fueled by kerosene and going dim when the smoke collected inside the globe. There was never a porch light or street lights in rural Oklahoma; just the moon when its schedule provided enough light to see your hand in front of your face. So, if the lights go out in my neighborhood on Halloween night, it will be no big deal. The children with their parents nearby will have flashlights and lighted plastic pumpkins as they find their way to my doorstep. I won't have a porch light on but I wll have two very large Jack O'lanterns which I've carved, one with a smile and the other with a sad face, with candles burning bright to welcome the children. I'll open the door after the children knock, with a flashlight in one hand shining from below my pointed chin and the make-up of a scary witch and I'll say, "Hellooo" in a low gravely voice. "Hello children, oh, you're not children; you're goblins, ghosts, masked outlaws and tigers and witches." Some of the children will turn and run to their parents who will bring them back to the porch to collect their candy. Other children will laugh and call out, "Trick or Treat" and reach into my candy bowl for a wrapped chocolate or Milky Way. The latecomers will be too old to be out trick or treating and they'll laugh and give an excuse for holding their pillow cases for candy. Why will they think I'll believe "it's for my little brother who is sick tonight and couldn't come treat or treating." I'll smile and tease them in my 'witchly' way and let them reach into the bowl for candy too. No lights at Halloween? Just the ticket to make it extra fun. |
| OCTOBER 3RD PROMPT Prompt: All of the power in the world goes out, including car engines. What changes in your life and how do you survive without electricity? I lived my early days without electricity. I still have my mother's Aladdin lamps, both the stark one and one with the mantle that caused the light to be bright and white. I still have her gas-heated iron, treadle sewing machine, high pressure canner, and kerosene lantern. I know how to live without electricity. In this 21st century, we have batteries of every size that last far longer than in the past. I know how to use fire to cook and heat water and the house. I have a fireplace. I have a camp stove that uses propane and another one that uses wood as heat. I know how to set up a pipe to throw the smoke outside while keeping the heat inside. My mother's propane type old fashioned iron uses the principle of filling it with liquid fuel then pumping air into it to create pressure. I know how to launder clothing by hand, with or without a washboard on which to rub the dirtiest spots until the stain disappears. The washboard works faster than rubbing the cloth between hands; but it still makes for sore knuckles. I would hang the wet clothes and sheets and other things on a clothes line I would set up in the back yard. I still have Mother's bucket of clothes pins so there'd be no problem hanging the clothing and things. To iron my blouses, I can fill the blue iron with kerosene then pump air into it to build up the pressure then light it with a match and turn the flame to a soft blue. It holds enough fuel to last long enough to do lots of ironing for a big family. In the days when I watched my mother use the iron to press clothes for our family of six, I would watch closely as the blue flame heated the iron and would be scared it might blow up and hurt mother or burn our house down. The iron was far better than when she and Grandmother had to heat the flat irons on the wood stove, and use a special handle to lock onto them then iron the clothes. To go outdoors after dark to check on the chickens and feed the cats, I would be sure the lantern was filled with kerosene, a special type of oil fuel, light the wick with a match, then carry the lantern with me. Lanterns like that always made a circle of light around the person holding it; they gave lots of light. I'd have batteries for my flashlights and never want for outdoor light at night. As evening steals the daylight, I'd take the Aladdin lamp, fill its bowl with kerosene, trim the used wick from its burned area, then light it with a match. After putting the clear shapely globe over the light, I would turn in low enough so the smoke would not be visible or blacken the inside of the globe. For really bright, white light needed for reading (with no television, I would read many books), I would use the special lamp with a tall, slender globe and a gauze-like cover over the flame. I would light it, put the globe on then turn it low enough so it would not burn the gauze but fill it with white light. It provides far more good light for reading than the usual Aladdin lamps I would use most of the time. Using the treadle sewing machine, I would sew blouses and slacks, hem tablecloths and make pillow cases. Since the power would not be electricity but the power of my feet pumping the pedal back and forth, I would be able to sew anything. The stitching is just as good as any electric sewing machine can make. For motors needing gasoline or kerosene, maybe the old-fashioned station would become new again and work like they did years ago. The attendant would hand-pump gas or kerosene up to the top of the pump where it would collect in a five-gallon glass chamber. Then he would put the nozzle of the hose into my five gallon can, pull the switch, then gravity would pull the gasoline into the gas can. I'd pay with cash because credit cards require electricity to function as money. I'd walk or use my bicycle to get around the neighborhood. Wouldn't be able to go long distances though to visit family. I would grow my own tomatoes, green beans, beets and other things I could can for winter months if there were no cans of vegetables available at the markets because electricity is needed at the canneries. The high pressure canner is made of two-inch thick aluminum to hold the high pressure needed to process canned vegetables. As a kid, I always worried the lid would blow off of it while pressure built up but as an adult, I know how my mother controlled it. There would be no television if not electricity but I would get a radio that used batteries. Back in the 1940's, our radio used a battery nearly three feet long and a foot wide. Today the batteries wouldn't need to be that big nor the radios so big either. I would have no problem surviving on a daily basis if there were no electricity. |
| Prompt: What's your astrological sign? Do you feel it represents you or not? Leo, the lion is my astrological sign. I am always amazed at the accuracy of my sign in comparison to my strengths and weaknesses. Even the ordinary newspaper descriptions of the sign's influence each day surprise me. They're how I feel and function on a daily basis. I continue to be surprised. (source listed below) "Leos are an ambitious lot, and their strength of purpose allows them to accomplish a great deal. The fact that these folks are also creative makes their endeavors fun for them and everyone else. It's quite common to see a Leo on stage or in Hollywood, since these folks never shy away from the limelight. They are also supremely talented and have a flair for the dramatic. Warmth and enthusiasm seems to seep from every Leo pore, making these folks a pleasure to be around. They do love pleasure! "It's the Lion that symbolizes Leos, and the king (or queen) of the jungle is a most appropriate mascot, since they consider themselves the rulers of their universe (and the zodiac at that). Like Lions, Leos tend to be dignified and strong, and its this sense of their power that allows them to get things done. A Leo on your team is a good thing, since Lions are eager to see their projects through to completion. Putting these folks at the helm is a good thing, too, since the Leo-born are natural leaders. They may ruffle a few feathers along the way, however, since they can also be overbearing and somewhat autocratic. This may be in keeping with the Fixed Quality assigned to this sign -- Lions are indeed opinionated and set in their ways. That said, they are well organized, idealistic and have a knack for inspiring others. "Leo is ruled by the Sun -- the center of the universe and the fuel for our being. In much the same way, Leos consider themselves indispensable and the center of the universe, and those who would tell them otherwise had better look out! Lions are outgoing, self-assured and have a tremendous zest for life. So what if the world revolves around them? There are worse role models, for sure. The Lion's enthusiasm is boundless, and along with that comes generosity of spirit and the determination to succeed. That focus may be construed as vanity and even bossiness at times, but Lions would say 'No way!' and continue along their regal path. Regardless of appearance, those born under this sign can be counted on for their loyalty and sense of honor. They are also decisive, intensely proud and wonderfully romantic. "The element associated with Leo is Fire. Everything about the Lion's personality is hot, hot, hot. Those born under this sign are fearless and strong, which may be why Lions plunge in headfirst and let the chips fall where they may. Thankfully, Leos are dignified enough not to commit too many pitfalls. It's the Lion's unswerving courage that wins so many folks over. If you need someone to lead the charge, call a Leo -- and the bigger the project, the better, since these folks love an expansive stage (and the audience that comes with it). While some would take to calling Lions status-conscious, these folks are truly warmhearted and want everyone to be happy. Hey, it's their kingdom, and happy campers make for a perfect peace. Further, it's the great gift of the Leo-born to be dynamic, forward-thinking and self-confident. These attributes certainly catch the attention of others, making Leos sought after by both friends and lovers. The Lion's charms extend to all, even to the children they dearly love. Yes, the pleasure principle is paramount to the Lion, and along those lines, Leos are great at spending money. Lions can't fathom an uncomfortable throne. Leos also enjoy trying their luck at the tables, so expect to find them living it up in Las Vegas. "Come play time, Leos are at their best. Those born under this sign enjoy fun and games both outdoors and in (and with a group), so expect to find them playing softball, hockey or a game of cards. Lions are also a natural at the gym, where they can show their stuff to a crowd. When the lights are low, the essential Lion comes to the fore, since this beast is 90 percent fun and 100 percent romantic. The Leo lover is devoted, creative and almost too hot to handle! Since Leo rules the heart and back, however, overzealous Lions may have to take a deep breath and slow down a bit. You can bet that the Lion's home will be swaddled in royal purple and gold. "The great strengths of the Leo-born are their creativity, idealism and leadership. Lions don't lack for ambition, either, so they're likely to accomplish a lot -- and have fun while they're at it. Their warmth and loyalty ensures that others will enjoy the ride as well." http://www.astrology.com/leo-sun-sign-zodiac-signs/2-d-d-66944 |
|
| Write a piece narrating a typical day for you. If you want create a fictional character and allow him/her to experience your day. There's no alarm in our house. My sweet wife, Molly is awake at 2:00 and 6:00 a.m. with her blood sugar measuring so low she has to eat, take insulin and wait until her blood sugar is normal again before she can sleep. So, I'm usually awake with her and the two little doggies, Galileo and Indigo Girl. After I open the chicken house so the hens and turkey can get out and eat some grass and scratch up some bugs then lay eggs, I'm usually drowsy and take a nap. Not unusual since it's usually around three when I go into a sound sleep. I am a writer. I wrote and published my first poem in 1962 for $5.20. There were eight lines and was written while my eighth grade students were taking a test. Just before the test, one lad said, "Come Mrs. Patterson, give us an equal chance. Give us the answers" so I wrote about the cry and desire of people to always want more, more, more. Because I'm a writer and love Writing.com, the first thing I do is go to my WDC email, hoping for notes and reviews from my friends here. My WDC friends, as Clint Eastwood said, "Make my day" every single day I am here, writing, reading, reviewing, enjoying contests and emails from dawn until late into the night. I may write one story or six poems and two stories in a single day. My muse is usually awake and gives me a sentence or a line from "the next television person' which becomes the beginning of my story. If I've been watching a Public Broadcasting Corporation documentary, I will probably write a poem to tell the historical message of the documentary. Molly's our cook and I enjoy the coffee, tea and good food she presents to me, hoping I'll look away from WDC long enough to chat with her as we eat. She feeds the two doggies, turkey, three hens, and loves one deserted black cat who adopted her as well as seeks to tame three other feral cats who rule the neighborhood. My son bought her a Samsong Tablet for her birthday so she plays games on it and I cheer when she earns some points or 'stays out of jail." In the spring, summer and early fall, I love being outdoors working my perinnial flower garden. I love asters and Hydrangea as well as other colorful flowers and my garden covers two-thirds of my front lawn and half of my back lawn. Being outdoors has always been my greatest joy. Even as a little girl and teenager, I preferred outdoors. On Saturdays as teenagers with my sister, I took care of the washing and hanging clothes to dry for our family of six while she cleaned the house and spent most of the time carrying the telephone around talking to her best friend. She would have loved to have had a cellphone in those days; no long wires for her brothers to trip over. That's a normal day for Molly, me and our 'babies', our pets. When she goes to spend two weeks with her 90 year old widowed mother, the pets and I get things done. I usually go OUT on a Saturday night by myself to join our friends at out favorite gay bars to watch the wonderful young men as Drag Queens perform their dancing and singing/lipsyking> Molly no longer goes to the bars because she is a recovering alcoholic, been dry and sober for seven years; that's so wonderful. (You may have read about my night on the town with the gay guys in "New Years Eve With GranMoM" And that's the way life goes when you're retired, 75, happy, loved, and have friends at Writing.Com. My day had a major, significant hour of remembering my dear Mother and finally dealing with our conflicts. I'm sharing it: Mother I'm thinking about Mother today I wasn't there the hour her eyes closed, to let her spirit fly toward the Heaven she taught others about for fifty years, the place her baby spent those years. I can see her now, holding him close, reaching to receive her daughter's arms, feeling the arms of her parents around them. Their presence together gives to my heart an image of love, a sweet blessing a precious peace, overflowing love, calmly sweeping through me in this hour, in this place, this moment. It's been seven years since Mother left the body, racked by a stroke and joined those she loved on that Other Side of Life, somewhere beyond the trials, fears and worries of this life. Finally, this day, this hour, I found the depth of grief long buried in denial and negative memories; And today, I've set the loss and those things behind me and I reach only for shared, positive, wonderful memories of my mother and me. We depended on each other so many years, and demanded a perfection neither of us could attain as human beings with so much to learn as mother and daughter. I've learned the last lesson. Mom, now we're at peace. Your daughter, Ann Ann |
| Prompt: Grab the nearest book. Open it and go to the tenth word. Do a Google Image Search of the word. Write about what the image brings to mind. Sting-Ray is the tenth word in chapter which I opened to in The Council of Dads by Bruce Feiler, a young father who learned he had a seven-inch cancerous tumor in his femur so he wrote the book about his need to be sure his children had "father figures" in their lives after his death. Sting-Ray the company brand of a bicycle designed for young lads and lasses in the 1970's. It changed the way youngsters looked at bicycles. Girls no longer wanted what they considered "old fashioned girl's bicycles" and boys loved the sleek new style they saw in the movie "ET" flying through the air. Every boy has tried to get his Sting-Ray into the air like they saw in the movie. Every parent has scolded their sons and daughters for being so reckless with their bike. Those sons and daughters grew up and bought their sons and daughters a Sting-Rays are here to stay generation after generation. National Geographic defines another kind of "Sting-Ray", the original stingrays which have inhabited the earth's waters far longer than a boys' bicycle: Stingrays are commonly found in the shallow coastal waters of temperate seas. They spend the majority of their time inactive, partially buried in sand, often moving only with the sway of the tide. The stingray's coloration commonly reflects the seafloor's shading, camouflaging it from predatory sharks and larger rays. Their flattened bodies are composed of pectoral fins joined to their head and trunk with an infamous tail trailing behind. While the stingray's eyes peer out from its dorsal side, its mouth, nostrils, and gill slits are situated on its underbelly. Its eyes are therefore not thought by scientists to play a considerable role in hunting. Like its shark relatives, the stingray is outfitted with electrical sensors called ampullae of Lorenzini. Located around the stingray's mouth, these organs sense the natural electrical charges of potential prey. Many rays have jaw teeth to enable them to crush mollusks such as clams, oysters, and mussels. When they are inclined to move, most stingrays swim by undulating their bodies like a wave; others flap their sides like wings. The tail may also be used to maneuver in the water, but its primary purpose is protection. The stingray's spine, or barb, can be ominously fashioned with serrated edges and a sharp point. The underside may produce venom, which can be fatal to humans, and which can remain deadly even after the stingray's death. In Greek mythology, Odysseus, the great king of Ithaca, was killed when his son, Telegonus, struck him using a spear tipped with the spine of a stingray. |
| Prompt: Have you ever had a publicly embarrassing moment? If so write about it. Honestly, I cannot recall being publicly embarassed by anything I said or did. Surely it happened, but I guess it didn't turn me too red in the face.  On a similar path are the feelings of being the brunt of gossip, never funny and very painful. In the years before I came out publicly, I told nobody what my feelings and heart told me. I never went to gay bars nor did anything that might lead someone to think I was a lesbian, especially the eleven years I worked for Catholic hospitals where I was in line to be promoted to Vice President. In the end, both of those hospitals gave my promotion to another person. I wrote the following story about what hurt me deeply in many ways. The gossip of a wicked woman, a minister's wife who was known for gossipping and one day, I was slammed in the face by the fact that everyone around me believed her gossip. Yes, I wore dress slacks and jacket, my style from the day women could wear slacks to church. And, my hair was never short. But in no way did I live "like a lesbian" or the stereotypes of lesbians. I was deeply hurt after a friend told me, "Ann, I want you to know that even though you're a lesbian, you are mine and Larry's friend for always." I was stunned. Then she told me who was gossipping. I never recovered from the emotional pain of that for years. And, when I was ready, I came out as a lesbian in my own time, at age sixty when I retired, and in my own way, out and proud without a speck of shame. ANN The following is my story: GOSSIP HURTS THE SOUL Beth had a job that she loved and hoped that she could keep it until retirement. She always called it a 'birthday gift' because the offer came on her birthday in 1961. As the Community Liaison, she had developed one of the award-winning community liaison programs among Catholic hospitals at Napa Catholic Medical Center. When Beth began the job, the Medical Center had a negative reputation in the town because the most recent administrator had carried on an illicit, rather public affair that destroyed two families, his and that of a beloved heart surgeon. The new Chief Executive Officer who hired her challenged her to turn the negatives to positives so that the hospital would have a favorable image, an active group of volunteers and financial contributors and, most of all, to cause patients to come there rather than going thirty miles away to the nearest hospital. Beth at thirty-four years of age, was an attractive young woman with hair the color of honey and a world of enthusiasm at all times. People were naturally drawn to her and they easily captured her positive energy and appreciated her high ideals and expectations. A single woman, she kept her personal affairs private and away from the office; quite unlike her colleagues at the hospital. Among the events that she arranged, to involve volunteers and the communities with the hospital, were various sports tournaments such as tennis, softball, golf and lacrosse. She always participated in the events as a player rather than to sit on the sideline to 'run the show.' The annual Sweethearts Ball was the favorite event and she never brought a date as her dance partner. Business owners, media personnel, community leaders along with wives of legislators and other elected officials were her champions who enjoyed working with Beth to ensure success of all hospital community activities. Many of them were recruited to serve on the hospital Board of Directors and official committees. Financial donations to the hospital increased over four-hundred percent each year and major gifts and estate gifts were given to build a major endowment for the hospital. Patient numbers skyrocketed. After four years, Beth had surpassed all expectations set early-on by the CEO. The Catholic nuns who led in the mission of the hospital appreciated Beth's work and her participation in their Chapel activities. A new secretary, Carel, was hired to work in the office next door to Beth's office. She was the wife of a Nazarene minister but she did not act in the kind, spiritual way that one might expect from such a person. She continually complained to her supervisor, and anyone else who would listen, about various people with whom she worked and others that she seldom had contact with. Beth was cordial to her and, at times, stopped for moments of small talk. At no time did Beth complain to her or criticize others. Beth began to notice that some people, including the nuns, began to interact with her less than usual. Her department secretary, also a Nazarene, seemed uncomfortable around her. Then, one afternoon when Beth was walking to lunch with her friend, Lucille, a nurse in the Pediatric Department, Lucille said to her, "Beth, I didn't know that you were a lesbian. I just want you to know that you're always my friend, no matter what." Beth stopped suddenly, starred at Lucille, and angrily said, "Lucille, where did you get that? I am not a lesbian." Beth's face reddened as her voice heightened. "Who said that? Working at a Catholic hospital is definitely not the place for lesbians to be welcomed." Tears filled her eyes. Lucille responded softly in a kind voice, "Oh, Beth. I'm sorry. I didn't know. Carel's been telling everyone that you're a lesbian. I said what I did a moment ago just in case you didn't know what that gossipy, critical bitch has been saying. I didn't believe her. She always has something bad to say about nearly everybody. I'm so sorry, Beth." Beth could hardly eat her lunch; the tears that she was choking back made it difficult to swallow. By the time she returned to her office, she knew that she needed to do something. First, she asked her own secretary about the gossip and was told the same thing that Lucille said. Then she went across the hall to confront the offender. "Damn you, Carel, You have no right! You've criticized everyone here at the hospital; but you crossed the line when you turned your lying tongue on me. I am not a lesbian and you have neither seen nor heard anything that even suggests it. Your gossiping has to stop. You are a vicious liar!" Carel turned away. Someone in the hall must have heard Beth because the CEO arrived at her office a short time later. He acknowledged that he had heard that she was a lesbian. Immediately, he put her on administrative leave because of her outburst toward Carel. Two weeks later, the CEO called her to see him the next morning. She went directly to the office of the CEO. He acknowledged her and said, "I met with the nuns and considered all that has happened. Carel has been fired without benefits or a recommendation. However, I now must terminate you because there is a question in too many minds whether it is appropriate for you to continue to represent Catholic Medical Center. You will receive one month's salary and I will write you a letter of recommendation regarding the excellent work you have done for us these past four years." He didn't seem to take a breath as he spelled out the heartbreaking news that seemed to cut Beth's heart to the core. He handed an envelope to Beth that included both her check and the letter as he told her, "I'll have your personal things from your office delivered to your home tomorrow." Then he walked her to the exit door rather than allow her to return to her office. When Beth drove out of the parking lot, she decided to make one stop on the way home. Even though tears were dropping down her face and off her chin, she turned in the direction of the office of her friend and chairman of the Community Liaison Chairman, Terry Cornil. He was the first volunteer that she had recruited four years ago. Terry was owner of the largest restaurant in town and served with his wife as Co-Chairs of the successful Sweetheart Ball. Terry saw Beth walk into his office and motioned for her to sit down. "You've been crying. What's wrong?" "Terry, I've been fired. I can't believe it. Carel Kunts has been telling everyone that I'm a lesbian. It's all over the hospital. I would have thought that our dear CEO would have talked to you about it. Sure, he fired her; but, why should I be fired because of gossip. I don't even get to talk to my friends; he almost shoved me out the door." Beth wiped her eyes and took a deep breath to gain control of her emotions. "Beth, I'm so sorry. I can't believe this. No, he never talked to me about it. I've wondered where you were. I've been calling you to arrange a committee meeting for the Ball. This is so wrong." Reaching for another tissue from Terry's desk, Beth coughed and then said, "Terry, I know that I can get another job; but, I've put my life into this one. I am not a lesbian. If I were, I would never have applied for work at a Catholic institution. I can't do anything to change the situation. I feel like I've been raped because I can never undo the damage that has been done to me. There's nothing I can do to erase the image that people now have of me. I hate that." . (Gays do not have protection against termination from a job in America. This happened to the author. June 2011 research shows that when people have heard gossip, negative in their minds, that thereafter, they look at the person at whom the gossip was heard automatically in a negative way. Yes, gossip's emotional pain is a lot like that experienced by rape victims. The pain keeps going on and on, affecting their lives.) |
| Prompt: Homecoming Dance. I'm skipping mine, tell me about yours. God must be mad at me. I was writing about disagreeing with the church of my Senior year, on the subject of dancing, and suddenly the whole piece erased; I had hit a wrong key I guess, but the gods of Southern Baptists must be angry at me. I learned to disagree with most everything they preached and it started with the dancing question and why I didn't go to the Prom. I wanted to go to the Prom, it would have been special but instead I followed what my Southern Baptist church taught and did not dance. One of my friends, Bill, was son of a Southern Baptist minister, and I talked about going anyway; but he backed out first. Later in 1956, at my birthday, my sister and her friend had Elvis Presley records and loved 'rock-and-roll' dancing; they only danced in their room at home until my eighteenth birthday, then they and other church friends were at my home and we moved back the furniture and danced to the teenage music which our church was telling the world was 'of the devil'. I never initiated rebelling against the church in those days, but would follow my sister and her friends to do so. She did have more fun than I did. Eventually, I gave up that church and all organized religion because of the hypocrisy I had seen among preachers and others. They made rules for youth but did not follow them. And, I had missed the Prom and all school dances because I tried to be a "good Christian". Blah to all of them. ** 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 the minds against gay's relationships,and > supporting those struggling with their sexuality everyday.Keep up the amazing > work!"Joy |
| Prompt: Is it easy for you to ask for help when you need it, or do you prefer to rely only on yourself? Why? I spent most of my life unwilling to as for help. It was a habit I learned from my mother who would never anyone but God for help. She was a co-dependent to my alcoholic father, so in denial that he was an alcoholic that after his death, she was angry the day I mentioned "Dad's alcoholism". She was in the same denial about her son, an alcoholic for forty years. She never offered help to her children just as she never accepted help from anyone. The belief "I can do it myself" only prevents personal growth, never promotes growth. In my fifties, I accepted help from a professional counselor to overcome, "get rid of", the traits caused by my childhood home. One of those traits was "I can't ask for help" and I am glad I took steps to become open to help and assistance. None of us are perfect and can perfectly carry out and carry on; some things in life require assistance from someone else. I have confidence that I can rely on myself; however, there are times I acknowledge I need some help. Learning and practicing that has made my life more peaceful. There is no sin in being self-confident, but sometimes a little help is wonderful. I'm willing to ask for help for I know it's a better, more comfortable way to live. |
| f you could only have one thing to eat the rest of your life, what would it be and why They say, "bread is the staff of life" and I can agree to that. I have always enjoyed a biscuit, a cornbread muffin, a slice of whole wheat, a slice of white bread, and especially the sweet, tasty Hawaiian bread. I I could have only one thing to eat for the rest of my life, it would be bread. Of course I would want it to be fresh bread, not a week's leftover. My mother made the best biscuits in the world. Right now, I can see her making the biscuits while I sat at the breakfast table having coffee with my father. For her, it was an artistic activity to set to music; day after day, she made the same flowing moves. Every morning of the week except Saturday, my dear mother made biscuits. They were always perfect. The memory of her biscuits bring to mind HOW she made them. Like an artist or the conductor of an orchestra, she ceremoniously created the biscuits. A synchronized movie could have been made every morning over thirty mornings of her adult life as she made biscuits....and the movie would have shown her hands arms, body movements the same, synchronized as if planned by a movie director...as she reached for the bowl, sifted the flour, measured the baking powder, stirred the dough, dumped the dough, kneaded the dough just exactly right the same number of times, reached for the cutter, cut every biscuit, reached in the oven for the greased cookie sheet, carefully placed each biscuit in place, put it in the oven, scraped the dough-board the same way. Music could have played as the biscuit artist musician made all the moves in rhythm. I can see her now going through each move; and I smile. ann |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
