Creative Writing Saturday


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No Worry

No, worry about nothing
but the chiseling
of hills into distance
in the slight haze

and sleep lost over color
no two ever the same

the wringing hands
float ashore amazed.
Worry about beauty.
It can sell you anything.
Lakes collect in the
chambers of the heart
where the sailboats are made
of flying fish about
the size of match heads.

Sleep can be lost as
easily as a house key,
the shock can consume
at any moment
if the hills are not rising
weather is wearing them down
and you are driving
north in the late afternoon
or holding your eyes
in your hands like addresses. ~ Cole Swensen
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An Open Letter To My Daughter On Her First Date – by Scott Dannemiller

Yes, I am a sucker for stories like this one. Perhaps, it is because my father left when I was five, and stories like this exemplifies the qualities of a real father. His love for his daughter will ensure that she enters adulthood with strength, confidence and high self-esteem, and that is the beauty of love.

Blessings, lydiaw

Kindness Blog's avatarKindness Blog

Scott DannemillerDear daughter of mine.  You reached a milestone tonight.

Your first date.

Every dad dreads this day.  And, I must admit, I am very much like every dad.  So, to ease the sting of the first date and assure you were treated like a queen, I took matters into my own hands.

I asked you out.

The good news is you enthusiastically accepted.  No doubt my probability of success was buoyed by the fact that you believe I am a superhero, capable of throwing your giggling, 36-pound body into the air to unspeakable heights, and catching you again before you konk your head on our food-splattered wood floors.

And who wouldn’t want to date a superhero?

Don’t get me wrong.  I am certainly not naïve enough to think that my doorstep will never feel the heavy boots of a poorly dressed, angst-ridden, mouth-breather intent on breaking curfew with my little…

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To my Irish readers:

Happy St. Patrick’s Day

May the blessing of the rain be on you—
the soft sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed their sweetness on the air.
May the blessing of the great rains be on you,
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.

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Creative Writing Saturday


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Today, I post something near and dear to my heart. My oldest daughter wrote this piece over 15 years ago. Even when she was younger, she loved to write and it came easy to her. Ideas, words and visions filled her mind and compelled her to write them down. Although she is now a grown mother of two, writing is still her passion. I came across this piece that she wrote all those years ago. I’ve always loved it for its wisdom, creativity, open-heartedness, sense of play and hope. Perhaps, you’ll enjoy it too.

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My Satchel

Some see “particles of water suspended in air,” but I see a circus. Big, fluffy elephants with costumed characters upon their backs frolic through an airy world. The bellow of an airplane becomes the roar of a lion before he glides over a fiery ring. Licking his paws after he accomplishes his feat, a sigh of applause is his just reward. My mouth waters as I see the blue bundles of cotton candy floating on the horizon, too far away to touch, but close enough to smell. I have found ETERNAL YOUTH in the sky, and I place it in my satchel.

Some see a withering rose, but I see a wise old woman. She’s seen things that I’ve never seen. She’s heard things that I’ve never heard. She’s got stories to tell. Whispers of the velvety caress of love and the thorny vengeance of hate, tickle my ears. I hear her, and I am excited, and I am scared. Her silence also speaks. It speaks of old age, and unfulfilled dreams, and missed opportunities; it speaks of forgotten friends, and faded memories, and fallen hopes. She is wise, this old Rose, and I learn from her. She teaches me to keep dreaming and wanting and hoping and loving, so that I, too, will not become a withering, wrinkling, crinkling rose. I have found WISDOM in the rose, and I place it in my satchel.

Some see a vagrant, a “dragrat,” or a bum, but I see a book. Two solid arms embracing the treasured feelings within, sit next to me in the Library of Life. A tattered cover, worn pages, and an unappealing title do not deter me, but only set my interest afire. I read stories of love, adventure, and mystery. By opening the book, I have found OPEN-MINDEDNESS, and I place it in my satchel.

So whenever I am afraid, lonely,or lost, I reach into my satchel and find my strength. The satchel is in my heart, my soul, and my mind, and when I am too weak to carry it, its bigness carries me.

I’ve got all sorts of stories in my satchel, and it makes me big. I can find the good in everything, and make it a part of me. ~ Brea Cola

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