Gravy Volcano

I wrote a cherita for FOWC: Gravy, shared with DVerse OLN. Unfortunately, I missed the live event, but there was too much else going on. 🙂


As kids, who didn’t love making volcanoes:

Either as a science experiment for class, or
One made of mashed potatoes and gravy —

A baking-soda-and-vinegar mixture, or
Gravy overflowing the potatoes on a plate,
As if that’s the biggest disaster one could create.

Daily Journaling: SoCS

Journaling is such a wonderful practice for me. I first started journaling since I could write — well, even before I could write, to be honest, because the Y’s were backwards. I was 5 years old. I have written in my journal every day sine December of 2007, so almost 13 years! Honestly, there’s so much that goes on in my brain that daily journaling has probably saved my life. Sometimes I wonder why I do it, since will anyone read my journals? (I hope not!) Even I only occasionally go back and read my journals, and I have dozens of them. They take up a ton of space in my closet. Continue reading

Memory is a Strong Magnet

It’s time for DVerse Quadrille again! These prompts are usually magnetic to ideas, especially today’s. 🙂 I wasn’t going to post this, but I don’t have a better idea. Some people have much more of an influence than they think, even more than you might think. This is also shared with the Writers’ Pantry


Did you know,
Although it has been twelve years,
The thought of you is magnetic
To me?
We are closer in your death
Than in life we ever were.
What if it had been me?
Did you know,
The void continues to call me?

May Life Speak Kindly

This is for FOWC: Eulogy and Angie Trafford’s Writing Wednesday, “memories.”


Eventually for all of us, this
Ubiquitous ceasing of earthly
Life arrives — what is left behind?
One’s family, friends, one’s love,
Good memories and a gracious state:
Yesterday’s gone; what words live today?

mori11
I like this image because it looks like she’s rather casually poking the skull. Found on an image search.

With the First Bite of a PB&J

I am transported back to the lunch table,
The innocence of elementary school friendships;
And the sun which now shines on me witnesses
This hit of intense nostalgia-bliss:
Taste of sticky-sweet and I am somehow free,
All else that surrounds me is extraneous.
Extracting happiness from the memory,
Sensing a stable, never-gone presence.


Good things happen when I eat lunch outside, I guess! Inspiration is found in the most random places. Linked with FOWC: Extraneous.