Fun

Memories of a Balloon

I am a popped balloon

I certainly was popped too soon

I’m deflated and sad, it’s really too bad

My lofty life is now in ruin

 

I feel so used and frankly abused

I’ve been twisted and pulled and shaped into things

Stretched to capacity and tied up with strings

Why couldn’t you have left me right there with my friend

Instead you propelled me to this dreadful end

 

Why do we fool ourselves that this is love

Perhaps it is the feeling of being high above

Looking down, bouncing around, on a cloud of air

Oh yes, oh yes, I remember being there

 

Again we allow ourselves to get pumped up, just to be deflated

But oh when I’m up... I feel so elated

I can do anything, anything, anything at all

I can even float gracefully during the fall

 

But when it’s all over and I’ve done everything

I hope I get recycled as an airplane wing

This way I can take to the sky once again

Soar high and free and remember back when…

 

 

original work by T ' Renee 4/1/14

Author's Notes/Comments: 

just for fun, a few minutes to kill...

 

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Childhood

Folder: 
Sonnets

 

 

Up the riverbanks we scrambled.

Across the herb speckled meadows we ran.

Lungs full of dust: how our lives dangled!

Between life and death; as the dust did fan.

A wind sprung up, diverting the dust:

Towards the river and farm it spread.

Quickly to hospital - Oh! yes we must!

Shall we soon be really and truly dead?

But insectestides, are not the answer.

Intensified chemical sprayed!

Do you think it casues cancer?

I daresay and I heard you prayed.

Dead birds and fish float in the river.

Oh! now my lips are all of a quiver.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

 

 

My childhood memories of playtime interrupted by crop dusting during the 1960's. What chaos!!

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Fishcat

There was a creature of unknown origin in my bathroom.

 

And since the strangest occurrences tend to find us at the strangest times, I was also naked and about to step behind the folds of the shower curtain. The water had been running for a little over a minute and hot steam was already belching over top of the stained curtain rod. I stood there, legs splayed with one wet and the other dry, and stared at the fishcat as it made its slow, leisurely way across the pink and tan tiling. You heard me: a fishcat. That's what it was. Or rather, that's the best way I can describe how it appeared.

 

It seemed docile enough. Its tiny ears were laid flat against its head like a feline with an attitude problem, but it only peered up at me with its shining green eyes and returned my blank stare. Its back was flat and thin and covered with fur that was stark white with large gray splotches. Its tail was long and almost monkey-like; it seemed to reach and flex and move of its own accord. At the end of its length the tail split and fanned out, forming a furry and undersized fin. It was entirely gray with white tips capping off the ends of the fin, though it looked as if it would be useless for swimming. After noticing that the creature had no legs, I assumed that the "fin" was used as an apparatus for floating rather than paddling along an ocean or a lake. I'm not a scientist - let me just make that clear right now.

 

We stood there in what I figured was a mutually-held fascination. I didn't feel alarmed. Really, I was more confused than anything. The fishcat seemed to share my sentiment, and maintained its stare as if confounded by the fact that I was interrupting its bathroom time. It had a small nose colored bright pink, and its whiskers were very long and sagging towards the floor. Its tail swayed hypnotically; to and fro and to and fro. Finally it let its eyes grow heavy and droop, as if I was boring it, and went on hovering across the floor while intermittently sniffing at the base of the toilet or sink. It didn't seem intent on causing any trouble. I'm not sure how it would if it did intend to, but I also wasn't able to figure out how it could fly, and I doubted that it had any interest in answering my questions.

 

I went on with my shower. I washed and relaxed while listening for any unusual noises that would signal what my unexpected visitor might be up to. I heard the rustling of a plastic bag and peeked around the patterned shower curtain. Looking down, I watched the fishcat idly mashing its face against the side of my trash bin; rubbing its cheeks along the side and against the corners. It glanced up at me casually and then went about its business, never straying further than the bathroom doorway. I went back to scrubbing myself and minutes later was assaulted by a litany of gargling meows and whines. Alarmed, I wrenched the soaked curtain aside and saw the fishcat, floating just at the foot of the bathtub and staring up at me with an expression of rapt interest. Its pupils were huge and jet black. The moment my face was visible, its look of listlessness and boredom returned. Apparently it just wanted to know where I'd run off to all of the sudden.

 

Feeling cleansed, I turned off the water and opened the shower curtain a final time before reaching for my towel. A small part of me was wary of stepping out onto that cold, tiled floor. Not just because it was cold and my feet are sensitive like a noblewoman's, but because the fishcat was still there and, for all I knew, it really liked the way that people's toes taste. But step out I did, and as I dried my hair with the towel over my head, the fishcat took the opportunity to weave in and out of my legs, rubbing its coarse whiskers against my ankles as it went. It was difficult to tell if this was a gesture of affection or if it was just gauging how easily it would be able to vivisect and devour me once I fell asleep. It circled about my feet with its tail licking at my skin, occasionally diverting its eyes to meet mine before looking back towards the ground. It mewed softly to itself; each utterance gurgled through a sound like distant, crashing waves.

 

Once dried, I lingered for a moment just beneath the frame of the bathroom door. I could sense the fishcat straying just behind my feet, likely waiting to see what I would do next. I felt a sort of detached awe at how casual I was being about whatever the hell this thing was and how it managed to find its way into my house. I figured some subconscious part of my mind had a handle on the situation, and strode into my bedroom to get dressed. As I clothed myself, I made an effort to pay no attention to where the fishcat might be or what it was doing. Maybe I was testing myself to see if I had just imagined the whole thing -- I can't really say. Sure enough, the furry, fishy thing peered around the corner of my bedroom door, as if wary I would shoo it away. I looked at it and wondered, not for the first time, what it might want. Its eyes had grown big and bugging again - this was its "anticipatory" face, I surmised. After pulling on my shorts, I turned to face the fishcat and slowly, gently, squatted down to my haunches before extending my right arm in its direction. I lifted my hand with its palm faced towards the ceiling and waited, fingers splayed.

 

With much hesitation the fishcat curled itself around the wooden door frame. Sat at its level, I could see that it really did have nothing supporting the weight of its chubby, rounded body. Its clean, white fur fully enveloped its frame and covered its belly as well. There were no gray spots on its underside, making the smattering of gray on top look something like a painted-on turtle shell. Lowering its head, the unusual creature drifted towards my outstretched limb with its stomach just inches from the floor, flicking its eyes from my fingers to my face and back again. It pushed out its neck as far as it could manage and gave me a tentative sniff, locking its gaze with mine as it did. Being offered my scent seemed to satisfy and ease its mind, and it once again acquired that dull and placid expression before proceeding to explore the contents of my bedroom.

 

What to do, what to do. I was now confident that the creature wasn't going to try and kill me unexpectedly, but this insight presented a new quandary: do I get rid of it? If I wanted to, how? Where would I even leave the thing, and would it just wander back into my house, like it did the first time? Come to think of it, how the hell did it even get inside? As if to answer my question by example, I was treated to another chorus of its strange, waterlogged cries and set about figuring out where it had gone. I dropped to my knees and checked beneath my bed. Nothing there, so I moved on and peered into the disarray that was my closet. Still nothing, and the sounds of its mewling and clamoring were getting more frantic. Even so, it sounded quiet; almost muffled. Where the hell did it get to in ten seconds? My armoire rattled fitfully. The wooden doors shook and one peeked open briefly before closing with a dull thud.

 

I shuffled over and opened the offending door, only to see the fishcat, restlessly swooping back and forth above the top shelf while occasionally digging its face into the sleeves of my t-shirts. It looked at me as the light encroached on its new hovel and uttered a long, whining cry, as if offended I hadn't found it sooner. It then gracefully slipped from its perch and descended to the wooden floor slowly, like a balloon leaking helium. There it settled momentarily before zipping between my legs, making hasty figure-eights around my calves. I watched it go 'round and 'round and attempted to make sense out of how it gotten itself inside of the armoire. Its doors were solid and closed and there were no openings on its back or underside. Yet, he had found a way in, just like he apparently had with my front door.

 

It occurred to me that I was suddenly think of it as a "he" and somehow, that felt appropriate. I wasn't about to try and check - for all I knew there was a portal to another dimension located just below the creature's anus. Suddenly he took off and jetted out of the room, looking like a snowy lightning bolt with his tail stretched out behind him. I followed briskly and found him in my kitchen, staring up at the sink with those big, green eyes transfixed on the faucets. Automatically I stepped to his right and retrieved a bowl from a hanging cupboard, never once realizing that there was no possible way this thing knew what a sink was used for. I filled the bowl with some cold tap water without further question, retrieved a paper towel and sat the bowl on top of it in the nearest corner of the room. As I did so he flitted between my legs once more, rubbing his furry exterior against my feet and ankles. Then he set about lapping up the water noisily and with great enthusiasm. I watched him and smiled, happy that he was happy.

 

For minutes he sat there, guzzling the water as best he could with his tiny pink tongue. Occasionally he would dip his face into the bowl and submerge his snout, and trails of bubbles would erupt from his nose. I observed with some fascination as he licked the bowl completely dry, leaving no trace of moisture once finished. He then turned to me and lifted his tail, where it twitched and danced erratically. Not being sure what to make of this, I did what only came naturally, and bent down to stroke his fur. I figured he would draw back or even become frightened and flee, but he only thrust his head out to meet my hand. I scratched him gently and rubbed behind his ears, wondering if his nerves worked the same way that a dog's might. His eyes shut and he appeared blissful as I pet him, only stirring to encourage me to scratch other parts of his neck and back. Soon he was turning over and over in mid-air, like a pig on a spit, so that I could rub his belly as well. Some part of me expected him to purr, but when I leaned a bit closer, all I could hear rumbling from his throat were the sounds of the tide.

 

He was a charming little thing, despite his unusual... Characteristics. I decided I should keep him.

 

To this day I've never seen him eat a single piece of solid food. He drinks about three times more water than I do on average, and will occasionally disappear; some times for hours. The first time this happened I panicked, and spent the better part of the afternoon tearing my house apart, before venturing out into the yard, hoping to spot my fishcat. After I despaired and assumed him gone forever, he suddenly turned up, once again above the floor in my bathroom. This became a habitual exchange: whenever he vanished, I would turn on the light above my bathroom mirror and wait. Eventually I would hear distant, gargling cries that would grow progressively louder and clearer, before hearing an odd, blunted sound like wet cardboard being thrown to the floor. Then I'd peer into the bathroom and there he'd be, floating either directly in front of the toilet, over the bathtub drain or just below the lip of the sink; both eyes on me. He did reappear over the kitchen sink once, but was visibly distraught and yowling even after I came to find him, and never reemerged from there again. Despite the fact that the ground beneath him would invariably be soaking wet, his fur was always bone dry.

 

After watching him simply knock over his water bowl and roll in the puddles left strewn across the kitchen floor, I took to filling the tub for him every couple of days. The first time I did, he seemed to lose his mind with joy. He ran his circles around my feet, did a lap around my tiny bathroom and then threw himself like a drunken skinny dipper into the warm water. Though the tub isn't especially large or accommodating, I was amazed to see how gracefully he could move while submerged. He appeared to grow and shrink while under the water, and moved with a speed and fluidity that seemed impossible considering the limited space. When he tired of his baths and left to drift about the house, I would drain the tub; always noticing that several inches of water had gone missing since he first dove in. This, more than anything else, left me baffled. I couldn't imagine how a creature not much larger than a Yorkshire terrier could actually drink several gallons of liquid while SWIMMING through it. I entertained a theory that he could somehow absorb moisture through his skin or fur, but had no means of confirming it.

 

Past a certain point I decided that it wasn't important to try and understand everything about my new friend. He seemed to be sticking around, and it was difficult to feel lonely while he was wriggling his way between my knees or bumping his head against my dangling hand so that I would stroke his fur the way he likes. And no, I never named him. Doing so seemed redundant, somehow. I don't tell people about him because I don't want people to think I've lost my mind, nor do I want to confirm to myself that I actually have. He makes me happy, and as far as I can tell, the feeling is mutual. Maybe if I wind up with a litter of fishcat pups swimming circles in my toilet bowl, I might let the rest of the word know about my furry, fishy little roommate. Until then, I think I'll do what I can to keep him to myself.

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The Rubik's Cube

I’m not sure when I realized I’m not the world’s smartest man

Perhaps it was when I bought into the hype of cereal containing bran.

 

Or it’s possible it could have been when I failed to see the glitch

In thinking a career in teaching was going to make me rich.

 

Be that as it may it didn’t take long for me to understand

That the children I brought into this world were smarter than their old man.

 

When I tried to help them with their homework I only incurred their wrath

In my defense is there anyone in the world who understood New Math?

 

But I was content as they grew up with the information in their heads

Knowing I didn’t understand a thing they did and only half of what they said.

 

Until my grandson Taylor brought me this cube--6 colors as pretty as could be.

He twisted it over and over again then handed it back to me.

 

The idea is to put it back the way it was and in case I fail to mention

Improving analytic and cognitive skills seems to be Mr. Rubik’s intention.

 

But I think there was an ulterior motive and although the data on this is hazy

I think what the inventor really wanted was to drive the whole world crazy!


It takes 40 seconds for Taylor to complete the entire cube

“I’ll shoot for 40 seconds,” I said…Could I have been a bigger boob?

 

So I began and it didn’t long for me to sink into a deep depression

It seemed I would need some assistance or perhaps a quick therapy session.

 

I knew I couldn’t solve this cube alone given my limited powers of deduction

So I bought an easy to follow, how-to book with step-by step- instructions.

 

I was determined to solve this puzzle and become a Rubik’s cube whiz!

Easy to follow my Aunt Suzie! You have to know what an algorithm is!

 

Algorithm- that had me stumped and I’m not afraid to announce it

For not only am I confused by the word…I don’t know how to pronounce it.

 

But I studied and studied, practiced and practiced and in 3 weeks I had it solved.

I was proud of my accomplishment….as my intelligence evolved.

 

“3 weeks Pop Pop.” my grandson chortled, somewhat condescendingly

“I bet if you practiced harder you’d get as good as me.”

 

“My head hurts.” I said. “I’m going to take a bath.” then quickly bade goodbye

For it seems in intellectual prowess even my grandchildren are passing me by.


But as I soaked my aching head and my bruised ego in the bath

 

I had to smile- Taylor starts high school this year- I wonder if he’ll need help with math?

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Love Note

paper plates fill the trashcan

and an orangie glow lights up the fire pit

in the distance i hear the faint sounds

of neighbors saying their goodbyes 

and car doors slamming.

 

one last dried up hamburger sits upon the grill

and as i wash the mustard stained spot from the table

i notice the note you left underneath the candle

my heart skips a beat as i freeze and wonder

should i just throw it in the trash?

 

after the coals grow cold and a cup of coffee

i reach for the blue paper that is

carefully inscripted with a heart next to my name

reminding me of another note you left me years ago

about your plans to leave for Japan

 

my heart racing i held it for a moment in utter panic

but pleasantly surprised to read the words

nothing wordy or sappy,

just an i love you, 

which made me very happy!

 

 

 

11:28 PM 7/3/2013 ©

 

.......

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Carefree Pleasantries...(Fun)

Folder: 
Miscellaneous

Carefree,

Breathing easy.

My back to the wind,

It blows me forward gently,

easing my worries of tomorrow.

Wanting me to just let go and be so young.

So I frolic through fields of flowers and sunshine.

Giggling like the school girl I so wish that I was again.

Jumping rope with cousins in the park and discussing boys.

Playing basketball with my brothers and their hormonal friends.

Oh,  It feels good to laugh and not have to worry about the future.

Not to worry about others or where the next paycheck is coming from.

So today I shall laugh and engage in pleasantries, just letting go of all else.
Wait until tomorrow to embrace my responsibilities I'm young and happy again.

The one who once laughed so freely at jokes and who wasn't afraid to once act her age.

Oh it feels good to have fun and stretch my arms above my head, feel the sun reaching back..

Its as if the whole world is stretching forth its hands towards me begging me once again to just let go.

I do not feel guilty because I have cast away my resposiblities, ignoring my inhibitions, and I just want to have fun.

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I Gotta Have You

Folder: 
Lovespeak

Your face looks so bright

You came right on time

Cut off your old lines

Let's enjoy the ride

 

We go downtown and shop

Laugh at those lousy shots

Eat food in this infamous bakery

I look at you once and start to daydream

 

Keep smiling like the very first day

I promise I won't say it's cliché

Whenever you're with me I smile

Now I forget I was once shy

 

I gotta have you

I know you want too

You know it's fun to

You make me brand new

 
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17

Folder: 
Lovespeak

I feel to get out of here

I feel like celebrating

Drop the confusion

Adore diversion

 

Bring out the cake,

It's a new day

We'll make the sun shine so bright,

We'll make it shine till midnight

 

We talk about our crushes

Say things with all those hushes

Before we dance around

Be free with no chains bound

 

Then we go to our classes

I put on my sunglasses

Now, my mates don't know what to call me

But all I want is to be happy

 

We know people good and bad

Some can make us really mad

Even if we see a thousand mean girls

We know life has many to offer

 

I'm feeling 17

We dance like no one's there

We dare to do those sins

We should fly to nowhere

 

Fall in love the worst way

Cry and laugh every day

Watch the stars in the sky

Wish as they shine so bright

 

Now that I'm 17

We explore many things

Before I turn 18

Let's make hell out of this

 

Equinox

Folder: 
Nature / Folder 1

First day of spring,
A day early this year,
It's the first day of spring,
We should get out spring gear.

Cover the flowerbeds,
With fresh new manure,
Water the seedlings,
And then plant some more.

Clean out the tool shed,
And dust off the slate
Bring out the lawn chairs,
And stargaze til eight.

Before you know it,
Summer is here,
So enjoy all of spring,
And then do it next year.

 

 

© 2013

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The whispers of spring.

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