Mickey D's - Concrete images

Okay so this assignment had to do with capturing only physical details or concrete images instead of emotional details which we deemed as abstract images.

Mickey D’s

Wheezing in the grease of the spitting grill,

the smell of the McDouble invades my nose.

Dripping with the juice of beef fillers.

Greeted at the door by a yellow suited, cardboard cutout clown.

Sticky, red tile floors caked with remnants of high fructose corn syrup.

Innocent children laughing with delight,

awed by the display case of happy meal toys.

Black uniforms with a happy yellow “M.”

“Can I take your order?” bounces off every surface.

Lined around the building in their cars they sit.

New Mercedes and old Toyotas all fall into the queue.

 

Purple

This assignment was to mimic the style of Wright's poem "Yellow." I wanted to do a color that was somewhat out of the box as in not blue or green. 

Purple

Purple is for prosperity, the pure, the unattainable:

The bruise’s wide streaks, that purple, the spasms of pain;

Cool morning air, the purple of freedom;

The purple of those ladies, sparkling shadows over their alluring eyes;

The royal purple of kings;

Extravagant purple, the purple of techno;

The limitless purple, applauding the Lakers;

The purple of twilight, a race across the sky;

The purple of memories lost;

Purple of pomegranates, purple of Crayola;

The purple of lilies, the purple within the soul;

Purple of berry pie, their brown skin;

Ocean purple, overwhelming waves;

The purple of burning potassium, the grape, the riches of life.     

Thirteen Different Ways of Looking at a Shoe

So for this poem assignment we had to mimic the style (different type of description with each stanza) of Wallace Steven's poem "Thirteen Different Ways of Looking at a Blackbird."  

            I

A rush for school

A rush for work

Throw on a shoe—it doesn’t matter which.

Pull a pair from under the sofa.

            II

Stainless glass windows

Holding the key to happiness

Bright new soles and laces—find the right size

Pull a pair from the display.

            III

The sharp click of heels

Wild but never free

Confining feet —see the red ones

Pick a partner from the music.

            IV

Her first pair

So small, so important

Molding tiny toes, supporting mini ankles

Get a pair to help her walk.

            V

Sharp cleats pressing into the red clay

Dig ‘em deeper, son

Get to second base

Bought ‘em from a sports catalog.

            VI

Trained leather embracing a foot

Sperry’s never scuffing the deck

Say they’re made for sailors

Today everybody’s a pirate.

            VII

Batman light ups

Essential first grade gear

Stomp extra hard as you walk

Erase the darkness from class.

            VIII 

Commercial interruptions

Fix your thighs, sculpt your abs

Maybe you’ll look like Kim K

Oh these miracle shoes.

            IX

Sore, festering blisters

10 of them like an angry mob

You’ve missed the mark

Just not your size

            X

Sloppy rain, heavy legs

Flooded Charleston streets

Classic color

Bright yellow ducky boots

            XI

Mom? Mom! Mom…

Too expensive, what does that mean?

Cults of teenage girls rush to their altars

Prom—glittering, strappy heels

            XII

Wet with mud

Thrown into the washer

Clomping around and around

Never to be the same.

            XIII

Swampy lake

Sharp bottom rocks and

Ruthless driftwood

Blue mesh shoes to protect us. 

Catching up on my life

   So I have definitely been neglecting my blog despite how much I enjoy writing.  All my writing adventures seem to stay tucked away in my little notebook but since it is summer and all that jazz I see no reason why I shouldn't pick this blogging habit back up off the dusty shelf it has been hiding on. 
   Running through the last few months I have had little time for any leisure.  Classes were hectic and painful as usual along with the trials and tribulations of locating and moving into a new apartment.  Life has seemed to grab me by the heels and has been actively raking my through the coals.  Thankfully, it is summer and I'm not longer the image of that frazzled cat lady that everyone knew as a child.
   I would like very much to start adding personal photos to my blog but of course my camera recently kicked the bucket it called life, but expect photos as soon as a new camera is acquired.  (sn: My birthday is September 10th if anyone wants to put dibs on buying me a new camera)
   Let's see...this summer I'm taking two classes during the month of June (Now) and I'm involved in research during July and then in August life will be drained slowly from my body by organic chemistry (uh-oh).  I'm living in downtown Charleston with two WONDERFUL girls and I'm loving every minute of it.  I'll probably start putting a lot of poetry on here because one of my classes is poetry writing 101 while the other one is English 395 which happens to the 19th century American poetry.  Needless, to say I am up to my eyeballs in poetry but I actually love it.
   The city is wonderful during the summer.  Spoletto is basically going on in my backyard and although it is as hot as you can imagine...actually that statement isn't true.  The heat has not peaked at his maximum levels of misery for a South Carolina summer just, yet.  Don't worry though, I'm not fooled by the manageable weather.  Before long stepping outside will be like stepping into a wood stove. 
   I absolutely adore living 10 minutes from the beach and I can see myself taking on a permanent career of beach bum if only my family would support this idea.  I also love that there hasn't been a minute of boredom.  Things to do are always floating around. 

To all 3 of my avid readers(the people I force to read this) don't worry I will be updating regularly for the rest of the summer.  Prepare yourselves to be entertained

Quote that I love...

“Love is a temporary madness; it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of eternal passion. That is just being in love, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two.” ~Louis de Berniere

A Yellow Egg and No Tootsie Roll for Me

    The sun was extra bright that day.  I was nine or ten, maybe.  My great aunt had dragged me to the church Easter egg hunt, an event I was clearly too old for or so I seemed to believe.  But my Aunt Edith was not a women to be argued with.  At the ripe old age of 84, she is still quite the force to be reckoned with.  These egg hunts had never interested me, not even when I was much younger then the age of nine or ten.  I remember being no older then five one year and simply being more fascinated with playing in a huge pile of dirt then hunting for useless eggs.  It could have been because every year the cheap plastic eggs from the local dollar general were filled to the brim with cheap dollar general tootsie rolls.  This was never any sort of real prize to me...a complete rip off.  I didn't even like tootsie rolls, in fact, I despise their very existence to this day.  But lo' and behold there I was stuck at the egg hunt once again that year.
     Now the question is did I hunt eggs? Well, I guess that would depend on what you consider "hunting."  Sure, I picked up a few motley colored eggs but without any real enthusiasm. Mostly I just walked around aimlessly swinging my very pink egg basket kicking rocks in my nice white sneakers.  Occasionally, some of the older boys would run past me and sneak a look into my basket.  Eventually, they realized that I was no real threat in the egg hunting department.  It seemed to that they treasured those sticky, repulsive tootsie rolls way more then I did.
      Somehow I made my way over to the church tennis courts.  I was standing nonchalantly with no real goal in mind only wondering how much longer the so called hunt would go on.  I always thought it was funny that the adults referred to this odd ritual as a "hunt" when in reality most of the eggs were simply strewed around on the ground with a little pine straw covering them.  After awhile I noticed something a few feet away from me.  It was a drainage pipe and upon further investigation I found that it held one yellow egg.
    As I've grown older my life preferences seemed to have varied very little.  As I said before I still hate tootsie rolls and just like my younger self my favorite color is still yellow.  Now, it should be little surprise that I immediately wanted this egg.  I didn't have any yellow eggs in my basket and I hadn't seen any at all during the ridiculous hunt.  I had some pink and light blue paint pens that would be perfect to decorate the cheap plastic yellow egg.  Oh yes, I had elaborate plans for this egg.
    The problem was that I had no desire what so ever to stick my arm up to my elbow into that pipe.  No way. It just wasn't going to happen.  So I stood there stuck with no way to get my egg.  Fortunately, I wasn't a child easily disappointed.  I simply thought "oh well little egg, guess you'll have to stay there."  I was already planning how to get my aunt to stop my the dollar general and buy a pack of plastic eggs for me.  There would surely be a couple yellow ones in there and my big plans for a decorate yellow egg would not be disrupted.
    Soon I noticed the older boys walking over to my side of the court.  Boy, they were all a pain in the butt those days and most of them still are now...once again my preferences remain the same.  The boys raced up the small hill hoping to divert any of my efforts to collect eggs.  Yes, they were pretty dense if they hadn't figured out by now that I was not interested in their stupid little egg hunt.  I simply stood by the hole that trapped that yellow egg with my arms crossed at my chest just waiting to give whichever one of them snatched it the most evil look I could muster.  I assumed it would be one of the snotty twins. Thorns in my side to say they least.  I never liked either of them after the really ugly one knocked my down at the zoo and the other ugly one laughed at my skinned knee.  They were about three years older then me and they were typically annoying little brats.  Of course this is only my youngster sentiments of them, but as I've said many times already it seems like I remain a lot like my young self. 
   Finally, one of the boys approached me.  I didn't know much about him.  He was quiet and never really teased me.  He noticed the hole I was guarding and looked into it curiously.
"There's an egg down there" He said, matter of factually like I wasn't already aware of this.
"Yeah I know."
"You want it?"

Shocked as I was by this I nodded my head slightly not to fall into any juvenile trap where he pretended he was going to give me my egg and instead walked away with it.  He reached his scrawny, white arm into the hole.  It engulfed him all the way to his elbow.  After it was out he handed my egg over to me and walked away.  Surprised at the turn of events, I opened it up to find it held a jolly rancher. No tootsie roll for me.  Hallelujah!


   

Summer, Completely Unforgettable

It catches your heart and makes you breathe deep.
Blistering hot sand snakes between bare toes,
These young summers are impossible to forget
Embedded in your memories to stay forever.
Jewels of water decorate your sun caressed skin.
An exhausted college student jumps back into teenage years with every summer.

Long nights, sweet, meant to be savored.
Rolling thunder dots the afternoon quiet,
A faraway storm, mysterious and alluring.
Falling into a slumber, breath in sync with pattering rain.
Cool winds blow through a partially opened window,
a rare relief from the greedy heat of a Southern summer.

Mornings graced with summer sweets
Not chocolate or cakes, but sugared peaches and damp strawberries.
Sunlight ventures through the curtains
dancing and playing in front of your closed eyelids
beckoning you to join in

Yes, these summers filled with
light ocean breezes and heavy, dark storms,
unbreakable heat, and savory fruits,
lazy mornings and hazy nights
are truly unforgettable.