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My son is judging me. If he were to give me a report card it would be how long do I stay awake when I come home from school, how much time do I spend writing, how often and well do I cook for him, how clean do I keep my room, how clean do
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Norris heard the rustling in the living room last night before I did. Thinking the worst, he leapt out of bed, and snagged my cheek with his back claw, narrowly missing my eye. Blood poured from the gash he left. There would be a scar. Dammit Norris. While he hotfooted it to the stirring in
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I am simple. I go to my shade room. It would be a sun room if there were no giant oaks and holly trees covering its porch and backyard. Moss, hostas, ferns and begonias grow there, as well as my bed of impatiens. Mint, the plant that’s supposed to take over the planet struggles. But
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“Martha, I told you I would be late. I’m sorry you’ve got to put the kids to bed by yourself again tonight, I just got on the bus. I can’t teleport very well,” I could tell this well dressed, dark haired, professional dude, with the chiseled chin sitting beside me on the bus was in
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Thank God for the kindness of strangers. Little mercies we are grateful for that we often take for granted, like someone holding the door when our arms are full. They’re rarely there at 6:00 a.m. I had my arms full. My teacher bag was draped across my left arm with my coffee in my hand,
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I was so glad to be home. The kids at school couldn’t have jumped any higher or harder on my last nerves. Our classroom was big enough to accommodate three times as many students, between their loud voices and their perpetually moving bodies they took up every square inch of it. Getting them in their
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“I need an introduction to our class.” So, I was asked to lead an exercise, Off the cuff with no tenor and no bass My chest puffed out ever so slight, so wise. Stood taller, looking people in the eye Relax, lean back, let them complete the why As if not wanting to draw attention Wrote poems with the “I am” intentionsTrying
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Either you will fall, or will be taught to fly.
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“I heard they broke up and Tom was going to ask Janeen to the prom,” Becky announced it in Social Studies class. “Betty was all upset about it in English this morning. She was so mad she was crying. I’d hate to be Janeen,” “How do you know that’s why Betty was so mad and
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Anticipation, sweaty palms shaking; Jittery, bouncing a foot on the floor Trembling legs crossing, uncrossing, twitching Recheck your hair in a makeup mirror Peek out the window, hover by the door Pace — hide your face behind your hands, cover Hover again, then sit quivering A pounding heart, lack of concentration Glances at the clock,
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In the Time of the Sonnets
I’ve been writing a novel with the working title, “In the Time of the Sonnets.” Without giving anything away at all, it’s got Shakespeare, giants, messengers, and kings in it. Of course there will be a witch here or there, but that’s beside the point. I’m heavy into the rising action and I’m already surprised Read more
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Van Gogh Epiphany
When you start reading to your kids, you do it because you want them to learn to read. Then this happens. My first born read a passage from a book about Vincent Van Gogh having a “cafe moment,” when Van Gogh’s experience, memory, talent, time, and place all converged into one glorious period of creativity Read more
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My son is judging me. If he were to give me a report card it would be how long do I stay awake when I come home from school, how much time do I spend writing, how often and well do I cook for him, how clean do I keep my room, how clean do
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Norris heard the rustling in the living room last night before I did. Thinking the worst, he leapt out of bed, and snagged my cheek with his back claw, narrowly missing my eye. Blood poured from the gash he left. There would be a scar. Dammit Norris. While he hotfooted it to the stirring in
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I am simple. I go to my shade room. It would be a sun room if there were no giant oaks and holly trees covering its porch and backyard. Moss, hostas, ferns and begonias grow there, as well as my bed of impatiens. Mint, the plant that’s supposed to take over the planet struggles. But
-
“Martha, I told you I would be late. I’m sorry you’ve got to put the kids to bed by yourself again tonight, I just got on the bus. I can’t teleport very well,” I could tell this well dressed, dark haired, professional dude, with the chiseled chin sitting beside me on the bus was in
-
Thank God for the kindness of strangers. Little mercies we are grateful for that we often take for granted, like someone holding the door when our arms are full. They’re rarely there at 6:00 a.m. I had my arms full. My teacher bag was draped across my left arm with my coffee in my hand,
-
I was so glad to be home. The kids at school couldn’t have jumped any higher or harder on my last nerves. Our classroom was big enough to accommodate three times as many students, between their loud voices and their perpetually moving bodies they took up every square inch of it. Getting them in their
-
“I need an introduction to our class.” So, I was asked to lead an exercise, Off the cuff with no tenor and no bass My chest puffed out ever so slight, so wise. Stood taller, looking people in the eye Relax, lean back, let them complete the why As if not wanting to draw attention Wrote poems with the “I am” intentionsTrying
-
Either you will fall, or will be taught to fly.
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“I heard they broke up and Tom was going to ask Janeen to the prom,” Becky announced it in Social Studies class. “Betty was all upset about it in English this morning. She was so mad she was crying. I’d hate to be Janeen,” “How do you know that’s why Betty was so mad and
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Anticipation, sweaty palms shaking; Jittery, bouncing a foot on the floor Trembling legs crossing, uncrossing, twitching Recheck your hair in a makeup mirror Peek out the window, hover by the door Pace — hide your face behind your hands, cover Hover again, then sit quivering A pounding heart, lack of concentration Glances at the clock,
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Bellview Baptist Church
When the Bellview choir sang the old gospel spiritual, it was so powerful it blistered the paint on the walls, Sister Eloise sang with such feeling. When she cut loose on I’ll Fly Away the top of the sanctuary lifted a good six inches up off the walls of the building. The whole house of…
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Cassandra
“I don’t think it’s right. I can’t get it lined up perfectly,” said Cassandra. “Perfection isn’t what you’re after, it’s the mood, the tone. Melancholy doesn’t follow straight lines. You want the fluidity of a blue satin skirt,” said Serena. “Let one movement flow into the other, and don’t be rigid.” “I am not from…
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Stay the Course
It only took a few seconds to find out that I was completely and utterly lost. That’s what careful planning and a world class GPS got me, lost. The drive through Texas was one road, one lane, one shot, no turns. As straight forward as you could get with or without tumbleweeds. You couldn’t get…
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4H Camp Blues
“I was only there for one week thirty-five years ago,” Max told George. “I’m sure Alice doesn’t feel the same way I feel toward her.” Max had met Alice when they were camp counselors at 4-H camp when they were seniors in college. They were collecting and stacking logs for the opening night bonfire when…
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Whisper
“Boy, do I have a secret or what?” Margaret said to her reflection in the mirror. She gazed deeply into her own eyes. Boom. The door on the bathroom echoed when the blond walked in whispering to her red headed friend. It sounded like they had secrets too. Margaret had no idea what they were…
Devonne Brown 