From where I’m sitting – Friday Fictioneers

So glad to be back to the Friday Fictioneers. I’ve really missed this group, writers, and friends. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Ted Strutz for this wonderful prompt. It’s a goodie.

Here’s an impromptu poem, I guess. It may not make a whole lot of sense….

Hope everyone is well!


(Poetry: 100 words)

From where I’m sitting

From where I’m sitting
size zero prefers sex over running
but looks great in a bikini.

From where I’m
you need to get off your duff and fluff
up a towel.
Take a shower. Contribute.

From where I’m driving
on my ass.
Get off my ass!
You get nowhere faster driving fast.

where I’m laying,
the glass, half full,
languidin the pond
with birds flying over,
shitting, but missing.

I stand,
It’s better
to speak
than to get
Shat on or cursed. That
might be the worst.
Speak, be you…smile on.


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For Pulse, Orlando

A poem for Pulse, Orlando. I needed to read this today. Maybe you do, too. Thanks to gunroswell for these words.


Rantings Of A Third Kind

Posted in Daily Incidents
Remembering the victims of Pulse, Orlando

our pulse skipped a beat today

“Peace and love among all those souls, who roam this planet, called Earth” Gun Roswell

For Pulse, Orlando

What a world we live in
When feeling comfortable in your own skin
Is frowned upon by others
Leaving your heart smothered

Love, peace and happiness
We all strive for nothing less
May that be a lesson for us all
Young, old and very small

a rose for pulse

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Music Magic and “The Rhythm in My Head”

I watched my son’s middle school music concert with tears streaming down my face. I know what you’re thinking. Really? But it’s a middle school music concert.

I know, I know. But I also that know that my dad would have really loved this. He was a huge jazz fan. My dad played the clarinet and I grew up listening to him play and all different types of music, including jazz.

The funny thing is, my son was not a big jazz lover until recently after my father passed. Now he listens to jazz all the time with his earbuds in and attached to his iPhone, snapping his fingers and tapping his toes. Now it feels almost as if my dad is living through my son somehow or maybe it’s just in the genes.

There’s also another huge factor. My son’s middle school jazz band is top-notch. One of the best in the country, in fact, as rated by Downbeat Magazine. His music teacher John A. Zimny (his initials are JAZ!) teaches at both middle schools in the city of Folsom, close to Sacramento.

My son wants to play in the jazz band next year. His instrument is the baritone horn. This past year, he was in the Advanced Band. He plans to practice all summer and audition in the fall. I sure hope he gets in. I was absolutely blown away by the talent of these musicians at this concert.

Most of all, I was touched by their devotion to their band teacher and to each other, and to their high level of commitment. If you ever have an opportunity to support music in the schools, please do! It’s worth every penny and they need many more pennies.

Many of the students spoke during the concert to thank Mr. Zimny for giving them the best year of their lives. One even said she loved her jazz band more than her family. Sorry family! Kids from both of these middle schools traveled together by bus, competed against each other and, for the final concert, were on stage playing together. It was grand and what a sound!


Music has such a unifying power. Mr. Zimny told the audience that when you set the bar a little higher, you would be surprised what these kids can do. They surpassed expectations and took things further than he ever thought they could.

During the concert, my son watched in awe, snapping his fingers as he does and typing in the names of the pieces he heard into his phone.

My son between listening to pieces, inspired and all jazzed up!
My son between listening to pieces, inspired and all jazzed up!

The next day, my son gave a presentation of a poem he wrote for his English class. I was such in awe, I wanted to share it here. 

The Rhythm in My Head

As I walk through the world
I see a rhythm to things
like a way of life
while with the snap of my fingers
and the blow of my horn
I form a picture of
the world around me,
A picture full of sound and
beauty where the rhythm just won’t
Then I open my eyes and realize
the world is just too quiet.

If you want to take a listen, here’s a bit of the jazz band with Mr. Zimny conducting.


In my Yin Yoga class today, the teacher read a passage from Paulo Coelho’s book The Alchemist. The words inspired me and I left the class with these thoughts. Maybe you could use them, too. I’m really loving my yoga class.


Stay with your breath
Come back if you lose it
In the space between
Listen for the pulse of your heart
and be open to its wisdom

“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering
is worse than the suffering itself.
And that no heart has ever suffered when
it goes in search of its dreams….”

Let your breath be a guide
Your senses a map
Let your heart soften and
absorb the sounds around you

Like individual grains of sand
We are separate
Let the earth take your weight
Together, we are one, all the same


You don’t have to understand the desert: all you have to do is contemplate a simple grain of sand, and you will see in it all the marvels of creation.

Paulo Coelho from The Alchemist

photo credit: Baker Beach – San Francisco via photopin (license)

Cee’s Which Way Photo Challenge: 2015 Week #25

I saw Cee’s challenge over at Ali’s blog, Drailman on Life, and wanted to join in. I love taking pictures of paths. I have many and here are a few. The goal of this challenge is to take a photo featuring a path, road, bridge or whatever, in which it is the main focus.

And I was so inspired, I wrote a poem. I hope I didn’t break too many rules.


Is my life over
Or has it not begun?


Which way, that way
Why don’t you run?


Or skip or hop
Take in the view

You may not be here tomorrow
This much is true


Different thoughts
Will run through you

Breeze past you
Some will catch you off guard

Railroad Tracks

Today you will choose
A path not there yesterday

In front of you now
Voices swift


The hand you hold near



To all the mothers of the world, I wish you a very Happy Mother’s Day!

I Will Always Be Your Mom

We toil, we worry, mothers do
Our bodies bleed and stretch
Our hearts and minds grow
and love pours out

Soft bellies for a weary head
Breasts warm pillows soothe
We listen to your  heartbeat
light and quick

We sing a song or three or four
An angel in our midst
We watch your sleeping breath
rise and fall

We wipe tears and noses
Little bottoms, too
Reach for your hand
even as you push away

Moments blur and vanish
There is much to recall
But the treasured ones,
come back like fluttered heartbeats

We celebrate your joys
Listen to your fears
We watch you grow too fast
and hope we did it right

When you drift, brave and steady
We hold you closer still
Our love fierce and strong,
I will always be your mom

I Will Always Be Your Mom

Grassy Knoll – Friday Fictioneers


Visitors gather at the grassy knoll,
A private spot for nibbling biscuits.
They patter and jabber,
And feast on the views.

They laugh and they wonder,
The woodlands enchant.
Isn’t it here the story foretells of the
Beast hidden beneath?

Footfalls traverse nature’s stairs,
and slacken the soil,
Uprooting the rot below.
A troll eternally grinds his teeth in his sleep.

Dust in his eyes, awake he stirs,
Hunger impatient at his bedside.
The scent of his next feed near,
He reaches, and devours it in one smear.

He’d rather die than eat again.
If they’d just leave him alone.

Genre: Fantasy (100 words)
Photo Copyright: Björn Rudberg


Season’s Greetings! I hope everyone is enjoying their holiday. Thanks for taking time out to read my story.

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for her unwavering support and leadership. It’s been a great year! Bjorn, thanks for the enchanting photo.

All are welcome to participate. Here are the instructions.

For more stories from the Friday Fictioneers, please visit the Link Up.