Happy Hour

On April 26, 2014 By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry2 Comments

Credit: www.lynnegolodner.com

Black coffee in bed

The morning quiet adding the sweetness to my first sip

My day unfolds with no set plans

A run in the rain

I lose myself in dreams

My body a zen-like stream

as I am carried over these endless rises

A heated cleansing

The ritual soothing to the double digit distance

Stomach empty- a primal hunger invades

I sip and sup listening to Saturday stories

The day turns raw

I shelter myself baking, laundering and dancing

A spontaneous urge propels me out the door

Seeking sustenance

I turn my wheels and spy two mates

We gather at the bar

Coffee, Tea for they and me

Tall tales Told (gosh are we getting old!)

Time flies by

We leave and say goodbye

I arrive at the stead new plans ahead

Dinner to make or should I bake?

The night is a pup

At five, I fill my cup

One needs to dine with a good fine wine!

Day 26 of the Challenge. For my friends L and J: Thanks for being a part of my day! XO

Three Old Bitches

On April 25, 2014 By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry20 Comments

You know, I didn’t think we’d survive in that pounding surf

Tell me about it, Myrtle. It felt like a hurricane was sweeping over the Gulf

No, No Myrna, it was the gosh darn pelicans thinking we were still housing those crabs

True enough Phyllis. Thank goodness those babies flew the coop a long time ago.

Well, I certainly was relieved when we washed up on shore at sunset!

Yes, indeed a beautiful sight just in time for a little shut-eye

Only to be rudely awakened by that beach loader. Geez, just when we relax, we get moved again

Now, Myrtle, you have to admit the driver was a hottie!

Oh I must say I was getting a case of the vapors when he laid me down in the sand…

Well girls, I have to admit that he sure picked a cozy spot for the three of us

Until that middle aged beach babe spotted us…

Yes girls but she has a plan, I believe

Well, it looks like we’re going for a ride since she plopped us down right beside her truck

OOh I am all a- flutter Myrtle, I hear there’s some BIG conch shells in these parts!

Myrna, I think you’ve got a bit too much sand stuck that shell of yours. Those conchies are always after the younger set

You’re right about the sand Phyllis and we’re about to get some shaken loose. It’s been a long time…

Our Lovely Miss Kellie presented us with a most original prompt this week! I left out the mystery since I had taken this photo earlier this month and knew I would use it someday in my writing. It fit perfectly for today’s prompt. My oldest son came up with the title after he saw the photo and dared me to use it!

Here is your FWF prompt:

per·son·i·fi·ca·tion

pərˌsänəfiˈkāSHən/

noun

the attribution of a personal nature or human characteristics to something nonhuman, or the representation of an abstract quality in human form.

Select something nonhuman and write about it as though it were human. It is up to you whether or not you reveal what it is, but I have found it a lot of fun to leave it a mystery and allow others to guess at what you were writing about. 🙂 Have fun!

In Your Eyes

On April 15, 2014 By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry9 Comments

Credit: ineedchemicalx.deviantart.com

She kissed him softly, leaving a pink tattoo on his cheek

There was a worn tenderness to his being

A sweet masculine aura

His greetings arrived like a whisper

Like velvet

Soothing as silk

A cool breeze that sparks your heart

They might see one another in a crowded room of familiars

and the world would still as he planted his lips quietly on her nose

They possessed an unknown affection for each other

A kinship of few words and many shared plights

They left no time for the niceties of the shallow “How are yous”

Instead the river of their words ran strong and deep

When her need for him was acute,

she would conjure a prayer to the universe

wishing for his manifestation

His presence gave solace to her soul

Life stories shared

Life stories held

Life stories with no judgement

Each on separate paths

Tending the fires of their own loves

Rejoicing in one another’s journey

Hope’s Beginnings

On March 8, 2014 By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction14 Comments

This house has a story…what is it?

Image Credit: We Heart It

“Do you ever wonder what really happened in that house?”, Blake asked. They were sitting in the truck just moments after he and Julie had signed the purchase and sale on the former Stanton family property. Julie had grown up in these hills and was once close to Jeannie Stanton, a childhood friend who disappeared one fall afternoon in their fifteenth year, never to be heard from again. Jeannie was one of seven children from that rag-ma-tag family where chaos and cracking heads ruled through the dirty deeds of their patriarch, Joe. Jeannie’s mother was far from quiet herself, known to pull heavily on the tap at Smitty’s, the local bar where she worked serving drinks and other ‘amenities’ to the men from the local coal processing plant- long since closed and cleaned up. No one even knew for sure if all seven of the kids actually were Joe’s. The EPA finally did its job and the old brick campus had been successfully retrofitted and resurrected into a world-class sound studio. Famous musicians from across all genres recorded some of their best work in this forgotten corner of the state. Julia and Blake had become big hitters in attracting legendary acts to record and even stay in the area.

Blake, of course, had no idea of what to expect when he first entered Julie’s childhood world. They met in London, both working as sound engineers, honing their talent with the best of them. When Julie’s dad- an engineer and business man himself- bought up some of the old factory buildings from the government, he decided that some of them would work perfectly as recording spaces. Others he turned into research and development spaces. Soon he was attracting fervent interest from scientists keen on learning and creating new avenues into the world of sound.

On a return visit home with Blake last year, he and Julie had come across the abandoned property. Knowing its negative history had not stopped them from envisioning a place that would serve as a haven and respite for kid’s who were victims of abuse and neglect. Too many of the Stanton kids had become lost souls. Now that Julie had the means and connections to turn things around, she set her heart and mind on making it happen.

Just then, a rumbling sound came up from behind them. A fleet of contractor trucks loaded down with heavy equipment came roaring up the rough road. Blake planted a kiss on Julie’s lips. “Time to get to work,” she said.

Another great gift from Kellie Elmore this week!

#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

by Kellie Elmore

Sunshine Award

On February 5, 2014 By buildingalifeofhopeIn Awards1 Comment

Nominated by the lovely poetress Annie @ http://anniesmuse.wordpress.com/

After writing and posting my 169th piece, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself nominated for the Sunshine Award! We sure could use some up here in the month of February!

So, onto the process: Write 10 facts about yourself and nominate 10 others as well.

1) I love to read and carry at least two books with me in my car daily. You never know if you’ll break down. Reading is a great thing to do while waiting for AAA!

2) I love running and have participated in the sport since I was 11. Took a break for a bit in my 20’s and love it even more in my 50’s.

3) I love yoga almost as much as running. My yoga mat is near my desk ready for use at all times. I go to a hot yoga studio weekly and am now into my 36th straight day of doing yoga with a goal for a full 365 for this year.

4) I also enjoy strength training but find it hard to do when my basement is 48 degrees. Plus, I spend a lot of time shoveling snow in the winter.

5) The ocean soothes my soul and it is in these long winter days that I miss it the most.

6) I make sure to see the sunrise and sunset everyday no matter where I am. The only obstacle is usually cloud cover!

7) I love getting my hair done. For years when I was married and the mother of young children, I kept my hair very short and got cheap haircuts. That ceased about 8 years ago when a good friend of mine paid for my haircut with her hairdresser. She spent the year convincing me to grow my hair and Voila’!

8) I am grateful to be in a healthy relationship with a wonderful man.

9) My two grown sons have turned into two good men. Very little fine tuning needed!

10) No matter what life has brought to my door, I have no regrets about the choices I have made-they helped to make me a stronger person.

And the nominees are:

1) http://dorothychiotti.com/ Consistently strong writing spoken with passion from the heart.

2) http://pinkwoods.wordpress.com/ This girl can write about pain so beautifully and with true honesty.

3) http://talichaj.com/ I love her spoken word poetry!

4) http://phylor.wordpress.com/ This writer blows me away every time!

5) http://jenniesaia.wordpress.com/ Jennie’s passionate opinions and energy ring true. I look forward to her posts all the time.

6) http://markschutter.com/ What can I say? I just love Mark. His appreciation for his life shows in all his posts and his art.

7) http://graypoet.wordpress.com/ A man with a gift for rhyme and more.

Well, I just have 7 because some of the ones I love no longer accept awards or have already been nominated for Sunshine! Quality writers here nonetheless!

Namaste’

Different Than The Rest

On January 4, 2014January 4, 2014 By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction, Uncategorized13 Comments

Credit: www.dreamstime.com

Nicolette hopped on the old big yellow for the first time once again. She didn’t bother taking a survey for possible seats to share with someone or even look for empty ones in the middle. Just sat herself down right behind the bus driver. She placed her side-saddle book bag on the empty space beside her. Of course, in 1973 no one thought to carry a bag for their books. Just wrapped them in paper bag book covers and a bungy cord. That’s if they even bothered with books at all. From her twelve-year old perspective, the only ambition that her peers had were playing spin the bottle in someone’s basement or smoking in the bathroom between periods. In fact, she could already smell someone’s morning high at the back of the bus.

She let out a heavy sigh. A new school away from the safety and innocence of her elementary years where her teachers encouraged her intellect and her small group of friends felt free to be themselves and not follow the crowd. But when Daddy lost his job, they were forced to sell their small house and move to the local trailer park on the other side of town. Momma said it would be temporary and as soon as Daddy landed on his feet, they would buy another house back in their old neighborhood. Yet Nicolette-a girl Daddy said was born with an old soul-knew the family had a long road ahead of them. Dixsville Junior High would be her school for the next few years. A place where they said the inmates ran the asylum. Where the rough kids went. The Dixsville Dump. Not like Janesville where class sizes were smaller and teachers were respected and rules were followed.

Without warning, her brief reverie was disrupted. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her bag being moved to the floor. In its place, sat a long-haired “greaser” wearing a thin black leather jacket, dungarees and black boots. Nicolette dared herself to look him in the eye. Surprisingly, he had a tender, sweet face and a welcoming smile. “Hey there, you must be the new girl. Name’s Joey. You look like one of those smart chicks. Don’t worry, Dixsville ain’t as bad as you think. We’ve got some great teachers who look out for kids like you and me.”

Nicolette looked at him in disbelief. What was talking about? Kids like him kept the teachers in line, didn’t they? And ate kids like her for lunch. As if to clear her confusion, Joey asked her, “So what do have first period?” All of Nicolette classes were Level 1-the courses for the geeks. “Geography with Mr. Fiske,” she replied. “Hey! Me too!” he answered. “In fact, all my classes are the Level 1’s this year. My dad said if I don’t get my act together and show some ‘potential’ (he said this word in a sneering tone) I would be shipped off to military school instead. No way I am giving up this (he tugged at his jacket) for those brass monkey suits.”

“HEY! MR. JOE SMARTY PANTS! COME BACK HERE AND HANG WITH US FOR THE REST OF THE RIDE! “Oh. Looks like my boys want me. What’s your name by way?” With a quick and still shy smile she answered, “Nicolette.”

When the ride ended, she stepped off the bus first. As she walked the long portico to the roughly worn brick building, Nicolette knew it was going to be a memorable year.

Kellie took us back to junior high with this one! I know I am dating myself…

#FWF Free Write Friday: Time & Place

The Heart of the Matter

On December 27, 2013 By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman15 Comments

Credit: We Heart It

“Where we choose to be, where we choose to be–we have the power to determine that in our lives. We cannot reel time backward or forward, but we can take ourselves to the place that defines our being.”
― Sena Jeter Naslund, Ahab’s Wife, or The Star-Gazer

Long I ago I ceased wondering and worrying and feeling ashamed of decisions I had made regarding my life’s choices. Like if I didn’t get married 24+ years ago maybe I could have avoided the heartbreak, abuse and eventual diminishment of myself that the union ultimately gave me. Maybe I would have had a different career, different partner, different house, different community, different friends. Maybe it would have been better? Really, who cares? I made the right decision at the time ( no one had objected, everyone loved him) and I stayed longer than I should have. Even I don’t know when the right time would have been after so much time has passed. And really, who cares? I have two beautiful, grown sons and a pretty satisfying career as a result of being their mom. I got to raise boys who are becoming contributing members of society as a result of my hard work.

I used to think that I was failure because I became a divorced woman. Like the marriage’s demise was a reflection of my own inability to maintain a commitment. When my father told me that he was proud of my decision to obtain legal help and move out of the relationship while protecting myself, it affirmed that I was doing the right thing. People often said they were sorry that my husband had left. I was not. Really, I did not care.

As time moved on, I was acquiring the abilities to become a more independent woman. I got my Master’s degree in the midst of all the turmoil while still working full-time. I took on my former husband at every obstacle he put in my way. Sometimes they were pebbles. Sometimes they were boulders. But, really who cares? They need to be moved and surmounted on the road I was building to a better life.

Today I stand at a crossroads. I have proven to myself that I can be on my own and very happy. I have made amazing financial decisions that secured my present and I hope my future. I have moved out of the past to the point that it seems like it never existed. I am working on being present in my present life, letting go of things that I cannot control and planning a new life with the man I love.

I would not be writing and living my life if the pain of the past had not occurred. I am grateful to have gotten out of it. My experience-through publicly writing about it here at WordPress- I hope has given others inspiration and the seeds of strength to create their own lives and speak their own truths.

Open your mind. Open your Heart. Speak your mind. Speak from your heart. Live by your instincts. Live your life.

Post inspired by Kellie Elmore’s:

#FWF Free Write Friday: Quote Prompt

He Saw It In A Frosted Window Pane

On December 20, 2013December 20, 2013 By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction15 Comments

Photo credit: www.flickr.com

He stood on the street corner in the shadow of the amber street lamp. The night was bitter cold and the promised snow was gently falling on the shoulders of the people who passed him by. They appeared not to notice him as the peals of their holiday laughter echoed down the hushed city avenue.

He never felt so alone. Bereft. He knew that she and her husband were back in the city for the holidays visiting family. Their sons were grown now with little ones of their own and she never missed a chance to be near her precious grandchildren. She bought the brownstone so she would have a place to stay and play on her visits. Despite the distance, it was clear that she had kept a strong sense of community here; the amount of guests entering the doorway provided enough evidence. Never mind the vibe of good cheer and love that seemed to dance through the bricks of the building.

He moved closer. His sons were not interested in seeing him once again this year. He was dying to see what his four grandchildren looked like-he had never met them or seen them in a photograph. He knew that they were at the prime age to experience the magic and wonder of the season and he longed to share it with them.

At once, the four appeared in the large bay window. Two girls and two boys-maybe four to six years of age dressed in their Christmas finery. A picture postcard of innocence and joy.

His heart wrenched and he fell to his knees. On this night-this eve-it came rushing back to him. The weight and force and pain of what he had walked away from all those years ago. He was crushed and defeated. Weak. He rose slowly, his feet wet and cold, his fingers stiffened by the frost. He had not walked far-just enough to be out of sight when an overwhelming sense of fatigue came over him. He sought respite in the nearest snow bank.

*********

“Hey, mister are you all right?” The group of revelers came upon him a few hours later, his body nearly hidden in the snow except for the black of his boots. “Aw Jeez man. I think he’s dead. Call 911.” The wagon came quietly. They loaded him on the gurney and checked for identification. None. Just another John Doe lost to the streets they thought. They could hope that someone would notice he was missing and give him a proper burial. But no one ever did.

I took a bit of liberty with the FWF title “I Saw It Through a Frosted Window Pane.” It fit with the story. I am sure Kellie won’t mind!

Take a look at the other great writers over there by just clicking on the link below:

#FWF Free Write Friday: Pick a Title

Undone and Reborn

On December 7, 2013 By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry26 Comments

fwf image prompt

Yep-she thought she was up against it

Never forgiven for sins

That she didn’t commit

Walking that broken road

Stoned, Icy Cold, Alone

Peeling her face off the pavement

His fist crushing her like cement

Cornered in the last round

Her body relenting for another pound

Cries for help never making a sound

She offered herself over to the battle

Her breath nothing but a rattle

Then words of comfort that began as a hum

Gave way to the beating of a drum

The rage of her warriors too strong to ignore

Help and Healing oozing from every pore

She learned to stand tall

Protect herself from another brawl

Now she knew there was no need to crawl

Moving forward in joy and delight

She is one fetching lovely sight

Taking on the world with all her might

I am dedicating this post to victims of abuse. There is a way out. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.

Special thanks once again to Kellie Elmore for the inspiration!

#FWF Free Write Friday: Quote Prompt

A Change in Latititude

On November 1, 2013 By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman20 Comments

credit: www.flickr.com

So there I was enjoying the hot Florida sun, languishing with the post race crowd in the cool waters of a pool. I looked over to my left as a fellow runner (whom I met earlier at the race) walked in wearing a Red Sox cap and T-shirt. “Hey, where are you from?”, I shouted to him as he approached the water. I was surprise to learn that he had grown up in a town not too far from where I was currently living. Before I knew it, he had climbed into the pool beside me. An immediate sense of ease came over me as we began what turned into a 2 1/2 hour conversation.

I will spare you the details; they are not important. Suffice it to say that we each felt a shift occur. A connection. Certainly we were not the only ones to witness this event. Fellow runners and my own teenage sons were keen observers as well. My parents -especially my late mother-were thrilled to see me enjoy myself for a change. (I was in the midst of a nasty divorce, feeling drained and lost.) My mother sang this man’s praises later that evening, but I had no expectations. After all, we lived very far from each other and I was still not legally divorced. Her reply was simple: “Well, you never know.”

And that’s right. You never do know. Pivotal changes can be subtle. They can be the beginnings of something new without any tangible or obvious or even immediate changes. In my life, meeting the man I love helped me to return to myself. He did not come into my life to save me-that was up to me. He came into my life for many reasons not the least of which was to show me the profound sense of peace that deep love and commitment can bring.

We have been together nearly five years and will be married in a year and a half. My hard work raising my sons is done. I have given birth to myself once again. I will be moving away from a place that I have known all my life to embrace a newer culture and climate. I have never been more afraid and more ready. Living out loud and truly free with a man who loves me for me.

Many thanks to Kelley Rose for hosting Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday this week!