River Walk 4 by Tommia Wright
(Repeat one above)
River Crossing in Portland by Tommia Wright
River from the Rails by Tommia Wright
River from the Rails, too by Tommia Wright
(Repeat two, below)
Train by Tommia Wright
Any particular routes you’d like to ramble along?
Artwork by Rosita Romero at the SAM
Today’s ficlet fragment started off with the FFF challenge from One Minute Writer. Then I realized Sylvia didn’t interest me as much as I thought she might.
Had thought about a segment from Quietus: Quintets Demise, but had nothing proper. If you wish to go for something completely random for the ficlet, there’s the assorted fragments from this month’s Camp NaNo challenge. Instead, this is the direction my Muse took:
Quiet Bravery
Sylvia suffered in silence, separating stuff from what she only wanted on her portable desk – three colored sheets of paper, a book and three sharpened pencils. That’s what Dora thought when she saw the skinny lady slouching in the science section, staring down at scribbles made in a sketchbook, a smaller version of the big yellow flower acting as a shield.
The child tightened her hold on her dad’s hand – the way she got him to look at her. Pointing, to the person in the corner, she pouted. Her dad shook his head, lifting her to his lap, a book about music in his other hand. Dora knew it was her turn to read – it was always her turn to read out loud. But she didn’t want to today, not with Sad Sylvia still there, now staring at them.
Dora decided to play her favorite game, to see if maybe Sad Sylvia might smile, to see if maybe she could win the silly game today. Dora placed her hand over her dad’s heart, and then pretended to yell. She made up words and pretended to sing. She stumbled over the words of a song Nana played on the record player. She even tried to say the words her Aunt Heloise said – words that Grampa said deserved soap.
Tired and empty of any other words to pretend-scream, Dora covered her face then fell forward against her dad’s soft cardigan sweater, a faint smell of coffee and black toast still there because Grampa burned breakfast – again.
Dora closed her eyes, waiting for this part of the game – her favorite, and tried not to count ahead.
One finger, tap. Two fingers, tap, tap. Three fingers, tap, tap, tap. Dora held her breath. That wasn’t right. There was one more! It always ended with ten. Four fingers, tap, tap, tap, tap. Dora giggled as she turned and looked her dad in the eye between a curtain of brown bangs. Peaking towards Sad Sylvia, Dora was sad to see she was gone.
Someone charged at them, a meanie Dora recognized from their walks through the park. Before she could get down to kick him, her dad held her close, covering her ear with his hand, pressing the other ear against his sweater. It must have been bad if he wouldn’t let her hear for him. She couldn’t even turn to read his lips.
From behind the big sculpture of yellow flowers (Dora’s favorite), Sad Sylvia stood, hands on her hips and glared at the meanie yelling at Dora’s dad. Even though the meanie was bigger, he walked away. Dora squirmed and saw her dad thank Brave Sylvia.
Dora gasped when she saw Sylvia sign something back, speaking to Dora as she did so. “From discord, find harmony.”
Dora’s dad signed, “In the middle of difficulty, lies opportunity. Albert Einstein.”
Curious, Dora asked about the scribbling in Sylvia’s book. The child was surprised to see that it was them, reading by the big flower.
Questionable. That’s my first thought upon reading this opening line in my email from the main page of Blogging from A to Z: “Here we are past the halfway mark and I’m still finding some blogs with a lot less followers than they should have.”
Granted, one of the goals for this project is: “Since a big part of the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge has to do with networking, building communities, gaining followers (who you hope will become your regular readers), and discovering new blogs to follow, let’s try to give a power boost to everyone we can today.”
But why the knee-jerk reaction to the first line? The impression that the focus seems to be just a numbers racket. When I signed up for this project (doubling my insanity of National Poetry Month goals and Camp NaNoWriMo goals – current score: MAJOR catching up/posting on one, right on target with the other, but I digress), My blogs were 1700 and 1701 on the list, respectively. There are categories to choose (I did not for this one, chose writing for the other). There are great blogs to read. Some make it harder than hoola hooping and playing hopscotch at the same time with a hand tied behind your back when it comes time to leave a comment or follow, but that’s where bookmarking the page comes in handy (tsk, tsk, guess this means I haven’t followed ‘the numbers game right’).
Some bloggers have multiple entries daily (Mama Bear Musings comes to mind-smile) and others multiple projects (many a Camp NaNo/NaPoMo writer comes to mind here). Others have this thing called ‘life.’ Yes, the numbers have decreased due to various circumstances (I’m now at 1483 and 1484 on the list). Some have not had a chance to add anything new since the first half of the alphabet. Others are participating, abet ‘unofficially’ by choice and/or timing. And others have woven their first steps into blogging just by signing up for this challenge – talk about a great bold step forward!
True, the goal/purpose of the Blogging from A to Z seems sound. I have discovered many, many marvelous readings during this challenge. But to boil it down to just a ‘get the numbers up’ game…
Pardon the quirky questions of this Quasimoto-mood writer. Tonight’s post will return to the Friday Ficlet/Fragment (smile).
Are you participating in the challenge? Enjoying one of your own?
At Poets.org, there are 30 suggested ways to celebrate the poem. (Dare you to write one, involving a gnome.)
Today is Poem in Your Pocket Day – wee! (Whew! – timing fits nicely with Blogging from A-to-Z!)
Write one, read one, etc, however you dare. Today’s PiYPD is for you to share. The choices are nice – print one up, you get it twice.
Which ones do you hold dear to your heart? Which ones helped ‘shape’ you, no matter the part?
Do you prefer to write or prefer to read? Either way you get your dose is fine, indeed.
Be it the Psalms of the Bible or the sonnets of Shakespeare – Take an opportunity to sit back and hear.
Looking for fun reads to be had, try here and here.
What are your favorite poems? Who are your favorite poets?
Today’s Wednesday Words comes in two parts: George Orwell and Jerry Orbach.
I remember reading George Orwell in school – the two standards of “Animal Farm” and “1984.” Frightful to see how some things have come to pass. Sadder still is discovering how many do not get the references to either book.
During my free-time, I enjoyed “Down and Out in Paris.” I challenged myself to write a few short pieces inspired by that one.
I was tempted to include the whole text of Orwell’s Essay, “Why I Write,” then realized it might be easier to include the link. It’s very informative, no matter what kind of writer you are.
The second focus is Jerry Orbach. It’s National Poetry Month, so there was no way I could not mention his poetic book, “Remember How I Love You.” His widow, Elaine Orbach, assembled some of the notes he’d leave her daily.
Any particular favorite Orwell writings or poetry collections you’d recommend?
Tsk, tsk, tsk! How could I forget it’s Tuesday Tunes Day?! Well, stretching this a bit to share two today:
Nina Simone and Red Nichols (yes, mixing it up a bit, since ‘S’ and ‘R’ do not fall on a Tuesday).
Now
“There is almost one time that is important— Now! It is the most important time because it is the only time when we have any power.” ~Leo Tolstoy
“Now is the accepted time, not tomorrow, not some more convenient season.
It is today that our best work can be done and not some future day or future year.
It is today that we fit ourselves for the greater usefulness of tomorrow.
Today is the seed time, now are the hours of work, and tomorrow comes the harvest and the playtime.” ~ W.E.B Du Bois
Why do I blog? If you asked me when I first started the Tablet two years ago, I would have said ‘It was one of those ’41-14 moments.’ (I’ll eventually explain that, but not now.) The original purpose was to put together an online photo album, with little risk of failure. Then a place to share some short, silly writings now and then. And maybe quotes and other findings I thought readers might enjoy.
Now? The same reasons as before, with the fear/foolishness minimizing, the photo challenges and writings increasing, and enjoyment in finding new things to add to the tablet: music, inspirational items, fascinating blogs worth re-blogging -to me at least.
I shared the “Ellensburg in Black and White” photo album with someone and their first question was “Why bother taking pictures? Seriously, what’s the point?”
Enjoyment. Capturing a memory. Seeing something new. Because I was involved in the ‘moment of now.’ That, along with the only blurted out answer of ‘Why not?’
So, that’s why I blog – to share, to hopefully bring a smile to a reader’s face, something different to the day. A bible verse to lift the spirit, a hymn or snapshot or two. Because I know and find wonderful writers, amazing artists, powerful photographers, and magnificent musicians that are worth putting a spotlight on. As for the increased writings of my own – I go back to the mantra our SnoValley Writes! group moves forward with: I am a Writer!
That’s why.
Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt:
Write a piece of fiction describing the incident that gave rise to the phrase, “third time’s the charm.”
Dora walked the labyrinth with her father, her small feet atop his. She read the words for him while he described the images to her, aware of the people staring at them. She was glad it was raining and that they left their umbrella leaning against the entrance of the marble path. The meanies couldn’t see her cry in anger.
Her father picked her up and hoisted her on his shoulders, flipping the long umbrella her way with his foot. She laughed, small hands grabbing the worn curved handle before it hit the ground. An older couple that almost looked like her Nana and Uncle-Uncle, smiled at them. That made her feel a little bit better.
She didn’t expect them to give her some tissues to blow her nose and dry her eyes. The one who looked like Uncle-Uncle took the dirty tissue away while the one who looked like Nana gave her a small package filled with new, colorful tissue – pinks, blues and yellows. Dora and her father thanked her.
What made her feel better was the library’s doors finally opening. She beamed as they passed Mr. Coyote, holding a book as always. Dora removed a couple of tissues and tucked them into Mr. Coyote’s hand, in case he got a cold, too.
The next day was sunny, so Dora walked about the perimeter of the maze, treating the wide bench like a narrow balancing beam from gym class. Her father smiled, waiting for her at the end, lifting her to his shoulders like he always did.
Her father tapped her hand and gave her a couple of pennies, gesturing for her to put them in Mr. Coyote’s hand when they passed. She did, wondering what he was reading today.
The third day, Dora and her father pointed to the rainbow and searched for flowers of matching colors along the path. They almost found them all, except one – no blue, she cried aloud, not that he heard her.
She had nothing to give Mr. Coyote today but a few fallen petals from the flowers they saw. As they left the library, a backpack full of books, Dora’s eyes widened. Mr. Coyote held a bouquet of flowers in his hand, with a silver strand and note that had her name on it.
On the other end of the strand was a charm that included her favorite picture. Her father, with a wink of an eye, mouthed and signed the word ‘magic.’
It certainly was, Dora thought.
Coyote at the Library by Tommia Wright
More photos may be found here.
A well-known psalm of comfort, there is very little to say or add to Psalm 23. So below is an illustration courtesy of Irving Blake’s blog, followed by a performance of Psalm 23 by Bobby McFerrin.
Cantores Minores conducted by Bobby McFerrin
Labyrinth at Ellensburg Library by Tommia Wright
Coyote at Ellensburg Library by Tommia Wright
“L” is for Library, or in bratty mode – ‘Elle’nsburg, WA – a great place to visit, especially the historical district!
More photos may be found here.
Washington State Patrol's Blog
Because paradise is a library
The story of my journey...
Young Adult Author
Spreading Faith, Hope, & Love
My journey as I run, ride and live through cancer
Disabled. Loud. Proud
Cherishing the Past while Celebrating the Present
Award-winning Author
Where Dreams Meet the Business of Writing
This above all: to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.
It started as a 366 - now a regular Photoblog- just for the love of taking photos and sharing them.
WRITER Of SPECULATIVE FICTION & OTHER STUFF
Capturing Life's Chapters
Fantasy Romance Author
Reflections on Life through poetry, essays and photos
sweet happy endings
Ideas change everything
Poet, teacher and former Washington State poet laureate
LITERATURE- THOUGHTS - LIFE - WORDS - BUSINESS
A blog for authors, about authors, written by an author
Authoress Website and Blog
Figuring out Freelancing
On becoming extraordinary
Tough, Elegant, Wise
Vintage image treasury
mybrandofgenius
LyannV + Family ... photographers
Photographing the rainbow of life
So what's really going on in 2016?
Adult & YA Romantic Fantasy Author
The Presents of Presence
Creative Writing Tips and Authorial Support from Fantasy Writer Victoria Grefer
Musings, Photography, Writing, and More
Nature Photography by Jeffrey Foltice
Tonette dela Luna ~ Writer, Storyteller, Avid Dreamer
What Ever Pops Into My Mind and Poetry!
Healthy Start
Can you all hear me in the back?
the belief that there is room in your life for a new obsession every day
http://www.CreativeWritingInstitute.org
Birthplace of James Madison and Southern Plantation
Tommia's Tablet 