I was listening to NPR today on my way to work at 1:30 from finding out I have ruptured my eardrum, and the guests on the show we talking about this 6 word memoir challenge they started on the internet. They are asking everyone who wishes to participate to submit a 6 word maximum account of your entire life as you feel about it at that moment of writing. They said it could be a dynamic summary, allowing people to submit as many as they want based on the dramatic events in you life. I am so deaf right now that a lot of what they were saying was inaudible, so I don't know where you submit this to, or what it is for, or what they do with them. I do, fortunately, know that this is a pretty incredible thing, and that my next 6 words, following the period of this sentence, will be may 6 word memoir:
no longer struggling; genuine. godless. super-mom.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
DNA
A poem of genetics: just for fun!
Patterns of inheritance
Selective through distributions
identified in dominance
leads us towards our destination
complimentary strands of time
his Law proved predictable
combinations of distinct lines
confirming we are uniteable
acquired characteristics of an individual
strengthened by chance
but relative traits prove residual
acting by facilitating reactions
corresponding through translation
expression is the function of our complexity
recombining variations in our population
constant interacting enhances our stability
Prompt #07 Wrong Hands
From www.notwithoutpoetry.wordpress.com:
Wrong Hands
Mike says: I am recently obsessed with magic. Not just any magic. The top shelf stuff. Homer Liwag is an amazing slight of hand artist, and yet he is known for having “the worst hands in magic.” By some bad luck of the genetic draw, they are chronically as dry as the desert. This is one of the reasons I find Homer’s performance so poetic, the striking contrast between the beauty of the movement and his “retired” hands. They seem like the wrong hands…not to mention the fact that when you’re looking for the coins, you are almost always looking at the wrong hand.
His Own Hands
His own future could not be determined
by the strength of his own hands
but rather by the helical ladder
of which only the strongest can climb
Friday, April 15, 2011
Prompt #06: Flora
Prompt #06: Flora
Today’s prompt is from poet Bill Noble:
***
Scrolling down from the top of this page you’ll find a display of the astonishing variety of one species of spring-blooming iris in the wild lands around my home, Iris douglasii. The prompt? Spring. The general exuberance and complexity of life. Any or all of the erotic associations blooms have (the fleur-de-lis is supposed to be not just an iris but stylized male genitals). Or none of the above.
Title: Spring Transition
Floral expressions
stop short the wind blows
to take away alway all that we know
to free mother's repressions
New life and repercussions
faint breeze chills
soon to be summer thrills
sudden death deep depressions
Forget me not ambitions
scent of rain in the distance
growth meet resistance
spring fight forth to transition
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Prompt #05: Strange Little Drawing
Prompt #05: Strange Little Drawing
Today’s written prompt and image is from Jeremy Edwards.
This prompt is sort of like the infamous New Yorker caption contest. (Infamous because I never won.) Only instead of a caption, your challenge is to create a poem that’s inspired–however loosely–by the strange little drawing I’ve created. So let your imaginations run wild! I think he/she/they/it need(s) all the help you can provide in making some sense.
Breakfast with Pops
Reflective translations
are his intention
recreated in your actions
mimicks subtle motivation
thriving for adoration
requiring your attention
inspired by your affection
he looks at you with admiration
during your breakfast tradition
Prompt #04: Book + Picture
Prompt #04: Book + Picture
Today’s prompt is brought to us by Robin Sampson.
Grab a book of poetry. Try not to be too picky. From the last line of the first poem, take a word or phrase and write it down. Now, from the first line of the last poem, take a word or phrase and write it down. Now, from a random line from a random poem somewhere in between the first and the last poems, take a word or phrase and write it down. With those three words or phrases, and this picture, write.
Sorry guys. As lame as this may seem, I don't have a poetry book on hand..
I may have to do this one last! I got lots of catching up to do!
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Prompt #01: No Narrative
Oops I skipped #1
Stop to smell the roses
as the roses die
Stop to view the sunset
as the sun begins to rise
Stop to hear the sirens
as they sound to fade
Distruction, corruption, disgusting
Not enough time with you
Stop to smell the roses
as the roses die
Stop to view the sunset
as the sun begins to rise
Stop to hear the sirens
as they sound to fade
Distruction, corruption, disgusting
Not enough time with you
***
Reveal Something Without a Narrative
My invitation today is to say something without actually saying it. To reveal something through a series of images, rhythms, and sounds that give us more of an experience of, or a feeling about, what happened rather than the actual facts, events and story line. The following questions are designed to help you get loose and wander into a scene or two in which you might want to include your reader.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Praying Mantis
She calls to you across a crowded room
No such beauty has noticed you before
known by many less eager men
they call her the praying mantis
her body voicing you to advance
what does she sees in you
you don't hesitate or question
their fear bid you no warning
her beauty slant your judgement
knowing your modest wife awaits your drunken taste
you are a man with manly appetites
you may have your way with her
but she will have her's too
as her naked body approaches yours in her bed
blood splattered, your head shucked across the floor
Inspired by the photo above, write a poem that includes the words ‘voicing’, ‘shucked’, and ‘slant’.”
***
Reminders for Participants: You can post your poem below in the comments, offer a link back to your site where the poem is posted, or comment about the experience of writing the poem (without actually posting the poem). If you’re going to comment on other participant’s poems, please remember that this is not a critique space — comments should be kept thoughtful and supportive. Lastly, remember you don’t have to use the prompt to write your poem — they’re here for your inspiration but they’re certainly not a requirement.
Let the Wild Poeming Being!
Bouts of Kleptomania
Dear Admired,
long loves are not always lost or forgotten.
can you remember me?
we knew each other once,
before life's lessons taught us much about nothing
I still see you, you as you are
living in the home that tequila built from an empty heart
the mundanes of the world have placed circles around your beautiful blue eyes now black
where have I seen you before?
some distant life that once connected our absent minds
I sat next you unwilling to see you as I do
we were different then, but you recognized what I failed to see similar
I see you now, you as you are
beauty in white and red has never been so desirable
even more than yesterday
life continues despite dramatic love and passion
pulls apart during the daylight busy hours
meet with me tonight
As old lovers rekindle steady flames
I want you now, you as you are
you as you were, and will be
-Admirer
Write a poem in the form of a letter to a person you desire but have not told, telling him or her what you would like to do to them.
***
Reminders for Participants: You can post your poem below in the comments, offer a link back to your site where the poem is posted, or comment about the experience of writing the poem (without actually posting the poem). If you’re going to comment on other participant’s poems, please remember that this is not a critique space — comments should be kept thoughtful and supportive. Lastly, remember you don’t have to use the prompt to write your poem — they’re here for your inspiration but they’re certainly not a requirement.
Monday, March 14, 2011
New Hair Color, New Eye Shadow, Old Confidence
Before I got pregnant, I felt pretty. I had confidence.
I had a unique look, almost exotic. I had a look from all over the world; middle eastern, Lebanese (middle eastern?), greek, italian, spanish, brazilian.. I could walk into any locally owned gas station and get treated like a fellow foreigner chasing after the "american dream". It made me feel good. Made me feel pretty. Made me feel like I could belong in any far away place of my choice. I also got hit on in bars a lot.
This may seem shallow, but lets face it, looks matter. They matter in two ways, independent or any combination of:
1. For personal security and self confidence (can be derived from self or attention of peers), and/or
2. For social security and acceptance from our peers (can only be derived from the attention of our peers).
For me it was that my looks gave me personal security and self confidence. I thought I looked pretty and my peers confirmed it.
Still seem shallow? Let me further explain. I wasn't "INTO" my looks. My LOOKS didn't make me whom I am (though they did give me confidence to express who I am). My getting ready regime took all of 10 minutes including my shower, no make-up, and no mirror. The only time I really looked at myself was during a fleeting glance in a window or bathroom mirror, or when I was pinning up my hair. Face-to-face with myself, and already feeling pretty, I focused on the things I liked the most about the face staring back at me instead of the ones I hated. It didn't that I had more hates than likes, all that mattered was that I had likes.
At first it was my dark curly hair. It was different, and suited me well. It extenuated my personality. My hair was part of what made me ME, so I played with it. The more and more I played with my curls, tight curls, loose curls, bedhead curls, unique up-do's, luxurious layers, the more I discovered that I liked about my looks. I liked my eyes. I liked my skin tone. I liked my freckles. And that was enough for me. Enough for me to feel pretty and my confidence to shine. And people noticed, not my looks, but my confidence. Confidence NOT vanity and NOT ego.
Becoming a mother was without a DOUBT the best thing that ever happened to me. I am wired to be a mother, and not just like all women are, but more than that. Becoming a mother was my Aha! moment! However, unfortunately, it was also the end to my curly hair. For whatever reason, after I lost my curls I lost any feelings of pretty my curls once inspired. And though my feelings of personal security and sense of purpose dramatically increased, so much so in fact the current made the latter almost seem false, I tragically lost a lot of my self confidence. Now when I look in the mirror I see tired baggy eyes, dull skin, and barely even wavy hair. I don't feel pretty, I don't even see anything I like. I realized it doesn't matter what other people see in, pretty or not. If I don't feel pretty than I am not going to until I think I am.
Recently I decided to start wearing make-up. At first it gave me just enough umph to carry some confidence. It wasn't that the make-up made me look any better, but it gave me the opportunity to change up my look, and I could change it any way I wanted. I could change it according my outfit, my eye color, my mood, my attitude. I could even do my make-up and then change my mood or attitude. A problem soon presented itself as I quickly learned that putting on make-up takes time, and well unless I am not on a schedule I usually don't dedicate the time to keep up with my look(s). See, I am not the type of girl, or person for that matter, that likes to wake up in the morning, let alone wake up and put make-up on. I sleep in until the very last minute, until there isn't even a second left to do anything more than pop in the shower, get dressed, brush my teeth and run out the door with papers and coffee trailing behind. Some times I don't even give myself that much time. Heh, who am I kidding, half the time I don't even give myself that much time. Half the time I don't even have time to shower, I am brushing my teeth, putting my pants on, and getting my essential accessories together (phone, wallet, computer) at the same. Its dire that I get as much sleep as I can. In the end I decided make-up would be better for the weekends.
After the make-up weekday mornings fiasco I decided to dye my hair dark, like I use to, to accentuate my exotic curls. And, Waala. I am back! The curls came back as soon as I rinsed and scrunched in some Suave Captivating Curls and my confidence as soon as I could look in the mirror (I had to wait a bit for the mirror to un-fog, <de-fog?>). Even better than that, as hard as it is to imagine there can be anything better than that, is it helped me recognize myself as an individual. No one told me I looked any better, or that I had been looking particularly bad prior to, and I am not even sure I look that much different or my hair is really any curler, but the interest I took in myself, the personal care and attention I gave myself helped me to be an "I" AND a "WE". I am taking better care of my skin, my hair, my eyebrows, preventing all the signs of aging, smelling, staining and I feel good!
Thank you Totalbeauty.com!
I had a unique look, almost exotic. I had a look from all over the world; middle eastern, Lebanese (middle eastern?), greek, italian, spanish, brazilian.. I could walk into any locally owned gas station and get treated like a fellow foreigner chasing after the "american dream". It made me feel good. Made me feel pretty. Made me feel like I could belong in any far away place of my choice. I also got hit on in bars a lot.
This may seem shallow, but lets face it, looks matter. They matter in two ways, independent or any combination of:
1. For personal security and self confidence (can be derived from self or attention of peers), and/or
2. For social security and acceptance from our peers (can only be derived from the attention of our peers).
For me it was that my looks gave me personal security and self confidence. I thought I looked pretty and my peers confirmed it.
Still seem shallow? Let me further explain. I wasn't "INTO" my looks. My LOOKS didn't make me whom I am (though they did give me confidence to express who I am). My getting ready regime took all of 10 minutes including my shower, no make-up, and no mirror. The only time I really looked at myself was during a fleeting glance in a window or bathroom mirror, or when I was pinning up my hair. Face-to-face with myself, and already feeling pretty, I focused on the things I liked the most about the face staring back at me instead of the ones I hated. It didn't that I had more hates than likes, all that mattered was that I had likes.
At first it was my dark curly hair. It was different, and suited me well. It extenuated my personality. My hair was part of what made me ME, so I played with it. The more and more I played with my curls, tight curls, loose curls, bedhead curls, unique up-do's, luxurious layers, the more I discovered that I liked about my looks. I liked my eyes. I liked my skin tone. I liked my freckles. And that was enough for me. Enough for me to feel pretty and my confidence to shine. And people noticed, not my looks, but my confidence. Confidence NOT vanity and NOT ego.
Becoming a mother was without a DOUBT the best thing that ever happened to me. I am wired to be a mother, and not just like all women are, but more than that. Becoming a mother was my Aha! moment! However, unfortunately, it was also the end to my curly hair. For whatever reason, after I lost my curls I lost any feelings of pretty my curls once inspired. And though my feelings of personal security and sense of purpose dramatically increased, so much so in fact the current made the latter almost seem false, I tragically lost a lot of my self confidence. Now when I look in the mirror I see tired baggy eyes, dull skin, and barely even wavy hair. I don't feel pretty, I don't even see anything I like. I realized it doesn't matter what other people see in, pretty or not. If I don't feel pretty than I am not going to until I think I am.
Recently I decided to start wearing make-up. At first it gave me just enough umph to carry some confidence. It wasn't that the make-up made me look any better, but it gave me the opportunity to change up my look, and I could change it any way I wanted. I could change it according my outfit, my eye color, my mood, my attitude. I could even do my make-up and then change my mood or attitude. A problem soon presented itself as I quickly learned that putting on make-up takes time, and well unless I am not on a schedule I usually don't dedicate the time to keep up with my look(s). See, I am not the type of girl, or person for that matter, that likes to wake up in the morning, let alone wake up and put make-up on. I sleep in until the very last minute, until there isn't even a second left to do anything more than pop in the shower, get dressed, brush my teeth and run out the door with papers and coffee trailing behind. Some times I don't even give myself that much time. Heh, who am I kidding, half the time I don't even give myself that much time. Half the time I don't even have time to shower, I am brushing my teeth, putting my pants on, and getting my essential accessories together (phone, wallet, computer) at the same. Its dire that I get as much sleep as I can. In the end I decided make-up would be better for the weekends.
After the make-up weekday mornings fiasco I decided to dye my hair dark, like I use to, to accentuate my exotic curls. And, Waala. I am back! The curls came back as soon as I rinsed and scrunched in some Suave Captivating Curls and my confidence as soon as I could look in the mirror (I had to wait a bit for the mirror to un-fog, <de-fog?>). Even better than that, as hard as it is to imagine there can be anything better than that, is it helped me recognize myself as an individual. No one told me I looked any better, or that I had been looking particularly bad prior to, and I am not even sure I look that much different or my hair is really any curler, but the interest I took in myself, the personal care and attention I gave myself helped me to be an "I" AND a "WE". I am taking better care of my skin, my hair, my eyebrows, preventing all the signs of aging, smelling, staining and I feel good!
Thank you Totalbeauty.com!
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Learning from the Kardashins..
I learned a very valuable lesson from the very beautiful crazy awesome Kardashin sisters.. but I usually do. Mostly I learn a lot about my own family, and the very special cooky relationships I have with them.
The break down on who's who on the Kardashins..
Kourtney Kadashin is most like me.
Kim Kardashin is most like Nikki.
Khloe Kardashin is most like Leah.
Bruce Jenner is Greg.
Kris Jenner is Mom.
So many weekend nights, and some week nights, the Kardashins have kept up to the wee hours of the morning giving me valuable insight into the psyche of the Martinezs. These appointments on the couch do more than give me insight and understanding but also a strange sense of pride and enthusiasm to be apart of such an amazing family.
More importantly than all that, my Kardashin Sessions helped me to realize that we could have our own tv show, and it would blow up the ratings. We are so entertaining. So outrageous. So shameless. We are psycho. We even have a little of that incest-uality that they have. We wouldn't care about the fame. The money would just be a bonus. However, the real perk would be being able to share ourselves with the world, and maybe be someone else what the Kardashins have been for me and my family (we are all fans).
Just as great as all this is the way I relate to Kourtney. I know how psycho this sounds, but read me out. I actually feel that if we met we would hit it off and we would become great friends. We have so much in common. Seriously. I don't care about the fame, even if she wasn't famous I would still feel this way. The only thing about that though is it would be harder for me to know who she was.
Also, I just want to say I think she is the prettiest one..
The break down on who's who on the Kardashins..
Kourtney Kadashin is most like me.
Kim Kardashin is most like Nikki.
Khloe Kardashin is most like Leah.
Bruce Jenner is Greg.
Kris Jenner is Mom.
So many weekend nights, and some week nights, the Kardashins have kept up to the wee hours of the morning giving me valuable insight into the psyche of the Martinezs. These appointments on the couch do more than give me insight and understanding but also a strange sense of pride and enthusiasm to be apart of such an amazing family.
More importantly than all that, my Kardashin Sessions helped me to realize that we could have our own tv show, and it would blow up the ratings. We are so entertaining. So outrageous. So shameless. We are psycho. We even have a little of that incest-uality that they have. We wouldn't care about the fame. The money would just be a bonus. However, the real perk would be being able to share ourselves with the world, and maybe be someone else what the Kardashins have been for me and my family (we are all fans).
Just as great as all this is the way I relate to Kourtney. I know how psycho this sounds, but read me out. I actually feel that if we met we would hit it off and we would become great friends. We have so much in common. Seriously. I don't care about the fame, even if she wasn't famous I would still feel this way. The only thing about that though is it would be harder for me to know who she was.
Also, I just want to say I think she is the prettiest one..
Friday, March 4, 2011
Bullying the Bullies
Every 7 seconds a child is bullied, only 4% of the time an adult witness will intervene, 11% of the time a fellow peer will intervene, the remaining 85% of the time a child is bullied NO ONE will stop it. 56% of children (the bullied children's fellow peers) personally witness bullying. On an ordinary school day 160,000 kids miss school because of their fear of being bullying. 1 out of every 4 children is bullied. 77% of school children are have experienced bullying. 282,000 school children are physically attacked each month. 1 in 5 children are bullies.
According to one poll, American schools harbor 2.1 million bullies and 2.7 million of their victims. In a few years I am going to walk my son down a long scary hallway to an even scarier classroom. As we walk I will clutch his sweet, sensitive, innocent, naive, unique little hand with a terrified grasp. As he goes to open the door he will look me in eyes, excited but nervous. Knowing what lies beyond that door I will have to hide my own fear and anxiety. After all this will a big day for him. Eventually the door will be open and I will come face to face with the children that may or may not beat him up in the bathroom, or make him cry when he gets home, or call him demeaning hurtful names. Depending on the size of the classroom, 4 to 6 of the children sitting beyond that dreaded door could end up being my son's real life monster, they could be my son's personal bully.
And just what am I suppose to do? What can I do? How can I knowingly send my son off to this violent institution? How am I supposed to just make my son meet his monster? Me being the type of person I am I will punch a kid the face. I don't know care. I won't even hesitate! I will go to jail for my son if it means he never has to experience the turmoil of being bullied, but first I will ask for the sake of my future bully and all kids who are bullied, lets teach our children tolerance and acceptance. We are as adults, not just parents, but all adults are the cause of this bullying however directly or indirectly. They learn from us. We teach them to abuse each other. We teach them to reject what is different and misunderstood. I am not asking anyone to give up their personal intolerances based on gender, race, disability, physical features and appearances (that are not race), sexual orientation and preference, social status, economic status, etc.. I am asking that we do not express our person discriminations in front of our children. Especially take notice to the words we use around them, such as fag, retard, spick, fat (insert word here), white trash, etc. We often don't realize that it is our words that do the most damage, and are responsible for most of the violence going on in our children's schools.
Please, I don't particularly like punching children in the face.
According to one poll, American schools harbor 2.1 million bullies and 2.7 million of their victims. In a few years I am going to walk my son down a long scary hallway to an even scarier classroom. As we walk I will clutch his sweet, sensitive, innocent, naive, unique little hand with a terrified grasp. As he goes to open the door he will look me in eyes, excited but nervous. Knowing what lies beyond that door I will have to hide my own fear and anxiety. After all this will a big day for him. Eventually the door will be open and I will come face to face with the children that may or may not beat him up in the bathroom, or make him cry when he gets home, or call him demeaning hurtful names. Depending on the size of the classroom, 4 to 6 of the children sitting beyond that dreaded door could end up being my son's real life monster, they could be my son's personal bully.
And just what am I suppose to do? What can I do? How can I knowingly send my son off to this violent institution? How am I supposed to just make my son meet his monster? Me being the type of person I am I will punch a kid the face. I don't know care. I won't even hesitate! I will go to jail for my son if it means he never has to experience the turmoil of being bullied, but first I will ask for the sake of my future bully and all kids who are bullied, lets teach our children tolerance and acceptance. We are as adults, not just parents, but all adults are the cause of this bullying however directly or indirectly. They learn from us. We teach them to abuse each other. We teach them to reject what is different and misunderstood. I am not asking anyone to give up their personal intolerances based on gender, race, disability, physical features and appearances (that are not race), sexual orientation and preference, social status, economic status, etc.. I am asking that we do not express our person discriminations in front of our children. Especially take notice to the words we use around them, such as fag, retard, spick, fat (insert word here), white trash, etc. We often don't realize that it is our words that do the most damage, and are responsible for most of the violence going on in our children's schools.
Please, I don't particularly like punching children in the face.
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