October 31st


I’m not even going to think about how long it’s taken me to post something, nor that this was the first thing I’ve managed to actually finish writing in… ooh, over 2 months?  The important part is- OOH LOOK OVER THERE!




Did that work? No? Okay well, here, thanks to we drink because we’re poets I actually wrote something.  And then I used MS Paint to draw, because I have art to show you, but I haven’t gotten around to actually getting any of it into my computer, so in the mean time, enjoy some themed stuff and I’ll try to post something more substantial soon!

Monday Poetry Prompt #27: Old Hallows Eve

Fear Itself

The echo of steps
Not quite in step with mine
Breathing too marked
To be a trick of the wind
Hair on my neck
Standing straight on edge
My ears throb
With every pulse
A tingle in my skin
A twisting of my gut
A scream not quite out of my throat
When I turn and see
Nothing there.



We had our company Halloween party last Friday, because today is ‘end of month’ and too crazy to even contemplate taking an hour out of the middle fo the day to have fun, so we did it Friday.  I dressed up, see?  In my medieval Turkish garb.  Even though I did try to bribe the judges with a dance… I didn’t win the costume contest, but I didn’t expect to.  It wasn’t very “Halloween-y”.  The pirate, ET, and Dude from the Big Lebowski won.

Me and my partner *did* win the Pumpkin Bowling, though.  That’s where you take a smallish pumpkin and roll it at bottles partially filled with water to help give them weight.  Half way through, after three of the four pumpkin bowling balls had been destroyed, they made us turn around and bowl backwards through our legs.  That was not convenient, given what I was wearing.




And here’s some MS Paint art that I promised.  A misty scene and yesterday’s sunrise.  I’ll post more watercolor this weekend. 🙂








Something Old

we drink because we’re poets Weekly Photo Challenge – 3: Old

“something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue…”

And there it was…something old!

In a world that exalts novelty…get this brand-new giggling joppity great new fantastically never seen before variation of our dish soap… where youth is the by-word and be all of our age…I propose that we look for the venerable!

My “something old” is this gorgeous, vintage sewing machine, lovingly donated to me when my old machine broke down by my dear friend.  It has since been again retired, but the beauty and power of this old machine can’t be matched.

Could we but mend our torn lives,
Patch the holes in our spirits,
Rethread our dreams
With such elegance as this.

Photo Challenge

we drink because we’re poets has also issued a photo challenge:

Last week we looked at the Chinese element of Fire…this week we will look at Water…not the Chinese element, which I’ll talk about much later, this time I want just Water.


So I would like to humbly submit: water at my house

put words here

Like the cross section of a tree,
You can count the rings
On the sides of my water barrel
Down to the rocks at the bottom.
I’m sure the tomatoes won’t mind
A few rose petals in their drink.

She asked why I believed in angels. I replied, because I've seen them.

She asked why I believed in angels.
I replied, because I’ve seen them.

All the diamonds in the world Would scare suffice When what is longed for Is water and ice.

All the diamonds in the world
Would scare suffice
When what is longed for
Is water and ice.

Rain collects on leaf In the palms of green hands and Strawberry blossoms

Rainfall collected
In the palms of green hands and
Strawberry blossoms

May I interest you in a cup of tea?

May I interest you in a cup of tea?


Did Cavemen Practice?

As I was pondering my recent foray into the watercolor arts, I decided I would paint my sister a picture for her birthday.  Which is tomorrow.  And no, I haven’t started on the picture… it’s only 8 o’clock, I have plenty of time… to… do it tomorrow…

She loves horses, though, so I was going to paint her a picture of a horse, but do it all cave-art style (that’s easy, right!?).  So I went looking for examples I could emulate.  Found some gorgeous ones:

I love the simplicity of this picture.  The partial outline, the way the legs fade out… there’s just enough to convey absolutely that this is a horse and nothing else.

There’s another that has such a marvelous use of color it makes me envious!

The speckles in the upper right and the wonderful reddish hues in the middle left just make me go all drooly.  Even if they are simple and stylized, even if we easily recognize these as cave paintings, what they are not is *unskilled.*  And I realized, this is not going to be easy at all.

As I drove home thinking of the beauty of these images, wondering what kind of person painted them – wondering if the painter was a man or a woman, old or young – I suddenly wondered… what did the cave painters practice on?

Seriously, these works of art are not their sketch pads and practice sheets.  These are aren’t children playing with finger paints.  These aren’t adults with child-like skill levels playing with finger paints.  These are skilled artists.  I wonder what they did for practice, because whoever painted these had been doing this for some time.  This was not their first foray into the medium or the arts!

I wondered if they used cured hides like canvases?  Perhaps they decorated their clothing with similar scenes.

Maybe they used small, flat stones as their sketch books, rested on their laps as they sat around the fires in the evening while someone told stories of the hunt, the animal roasting over the fire and wafting the most delicious aromas around the camp.  I wonder if they had a little pallet of pigments: ocher, umber, the charred end of a stick that had fallen from the fire…

All these things wander through my mind as I stare at my blank, white paper and try to decide where the first stroke of my brush should go.  I already have the frame for it, I just need to make the art.  Perhaps I’ll close my eyes and ask some great ancestor to help.

One thing is for sure: I’ll never throw away my practice art, no matter how bad it is.  Maybe in 1,000 years or so, a curious artistic soul will find them and like the practice sketches as well as the refined pieces.  And maybe, just maybe, a little bit of her past will settle into place when she does.

Yesterday was a good day for inspiration and relaxation.  I took the Keystone ferry to Port Townsend and spent a beautiful, if rainy, day enjoying myself and being inspired to write a story that, as often happens, ended up somewhere very different than what I had been thinking of when I started it.