the grape

He was
Mellowed and aged to perfection
The perfect combination of vine and sun
The perfection of taste and value

She was
Picked to soon
Before she was ripe and ready to age
The taste was bitter not sweet

They were
Mixed to be as one
Only to turn rotten
Before their love
Could ever be



That step

"The learning sword cut my throat and all that it taught me I cannot say".



The step is always there.  It is right in front of me. I cannot miss seeing it.  It all but slaps me in the face as I stumble by or around it.  But I never confront it.  I am always able to sidle by it.  I sidle by with the complete fear that it will reach out and snare me.  I am always afraid that it will grab me and toss me into some dark, damp, dirty, smelly dungeon until I take that step and vomit the truth from the bowels of my loins.


I edge by that step like I am on the side of a cliff with my back hugging the stone wall and my arms flailing out along the stone grasping for some place to grab on to.  I am in fear of being sucked off.  My arms are grabbing for a safety ring or a miracle lanyard to keep the giant empty space below me from sucking me over and down.  My hands grasp for a stone to keep me from being sucked down to spin like a vortex of constant confusion until I am able to face and expel the demons within me.


This time I win again or maybe it is this time I lose again.  I slip by the deep black hole that is trying to suck me in.  I am able to present a body that looks under control.


I dread the day the door opens and the vortex sucks me in before I can slip by.  I really dread that day. I really, really dread that day.  I do not want to take that first step.  I do not want to really know myself.


I will avoid the door and climb out the window.


Why?  I always have.


I thank Poet David Whyte for the inspiration for this work.  My thoughts began as I listened to his poem "Start Close In"..."take the step you do not want to take....start with a small step you can call your own".


David, I am still trying to find that first step.  Maybe with your inspiration I can find myself.


I would also like to thank my friend Jim Haddad.  Jim is the best writer and poet in our writing class.  His "sword of knowledge" from today's reading inspired the opening poem of this post.


blogging is more fun

sub title.....attempting a book is too much work

OK, I tried it.....I wrote a book.  It wasn't a long book,  It had 135 pages including pictures, spacing and  half pages.  I wanted it to be short.  I like short.  I think if I had a choice of what to put on my grave marker, it would say:
He was here
Now he is gone

However, since I have chosen to be cremated I will not have these words on a grave marker.  I will write the note and have it burned with me.  My words and my soul will be wisps of smoke that circle the globe eternally.

The book was an attempt to write a story about an illegal immigrant being deported and returning five different times.  When I had the idea for the book and a real live subject I knew personally it was a hot topic but now it is old news.  No one cares any more.  My rejection letter was polite.

I hate polite rejections.   "Why...why...why?"  I want to scream.  In fact, that is what I did.  Why is a book or article rejected?  Is it bad writing?  Is it a bad subject?  Is is both?

I would much rather get a rejection letter that goes like this:

"Dear lousy writer:
I have laughed myself silly over your crummy book and I have not even finished the first page.  You should go on to another line of work.  Do not embarrass yourself any further.  Burn this drivel as soon as possible"
Thank you for the laugh."

Now that would be a good letter to get.

However,  "Thank you for your submission but at this time we cannot use your work", is a rejection that really sucks.

I am going to re-write my book and expand it into 350-500 pages.  I am giving myself 10 years to complete it.

In the mean time I will write short brief blogs.


blue grapes

I supposed we all get miffed at times.  I am no different than others.  I get miffed on some occasions and down right pissed off on others.  In reality I do not have the right to get upset over most of the things that bug me but I do anyway.  I like to tell people that is because I am human.  We get depressed over the dumbest things.

I call these low times in my grapes.  Blue grapes are sour grapes with a sadness attached.  Some people have told me that Blour grapes would be a better discription but since "blour" is not a word I feel that would confuse people more than "blue grapes"

My latest depression or period of "blue grapes" was caused a fellow class mate in my writing class.  I hate to admit this but it really is a trivial issue.  I introduced blogging to the class.  I started a blog for the class.  It is a blog that all in the class can use.  The instructor now has a blog of her own and one of the other members has a blog.  I have tried to promote their blog on "Old Grizz" and get others to read their writing.  The other day I checked their blogs and both offer a link to each other but neither offers a link to mine.  I am really being petty but it bugs me.  I cannot do anything but write about it.
I have  to believe that if I ever learn to write people will want to read my efforts.

I am sorry that at this point they do not wish to support me.

There, I've written it and now I feel better.  It always help to share my  "blue grapes"
with others even if it is spitting in the wind.

About Me

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So Cal, United States
I am an apprentice writer of short stories and I also attempt a little poetry.