Category: Stories

Sometimes it’s story time. Now and then I’ll share a short story here, some of my own, and links to stories of others.

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Check out “Star of Gold” at Winter Pages!

My friends Alicia and Reagan have collaborated on a writing project called Winter Pages. They called for contributions from writers in our online writing community, The Habit, and put together a schedule spanning from the beginning of Advent through Lent. Each week new work is posted on the site Alicia created–poetry, essays, stories, playlists, and photography. Meanwhile, Reagan collected a small subscription from any interested in receiving a paper copy of each week’s piece, and she sends out a physical letter with the printout. It’s been such a fun project. I love going to the site to see the visual art, and I never know exactly when a new letter is going to appear in my mailbox (and that’s my real mailbox on my street, not my email inbox!).

Today my Epiphany story is up. You can go and read “Star of Gold,” and then explore the great work that’s already been posted. Enjoy!

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“You Too?”

I’m going to prep my coffee pot;
I’ll grind the beans and pour them in the tray
(And sniff the heady brew that wafts my way):
It won’t take long. —You come too.

I’m going to sit and drink while morning wakes;
I’ll watch the sun come breaking through the trees
And dream of many tales or far off seas.
It won’t take long. —You come too.

“The Pasture”
~By Robert Frost

I’m going to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I shan’t be gone long. —You come too.

I’m going out to fetch the little calf
That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young
It totters when she licked it with her tongue.
I shan’t be gone long. —You come too.

(It’s the final day of November Poem a Day! I’m in under the wire. I wrote all of the poems except the one that was for this past Form Friday, the Renga. Maybe someday I can pull that one off, but I’ll need someone else to write it with.

Thank you for coming along on this journey with me! Today’s prompt, “You Too?” is a fitting ending for the month. As C. S. Lewis said about the quality that makes friendships, it’s that moment when you say, “What? You too? I thought I was the only one.” I feel like I’ve had that moment a lot this month.

This final poem is modeled closely after Robert Frost’s poem, “The Pasture.” I couldn’t get the final line of his two stanzas out of my head, so I thought I’d create my own version to invite you into my life and home. I’ve included Frost’s poem after mine.)

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Convergence

First week: Advent—
Our hope bent to
One sent to earth—
Blesséd birthday
Gained worth through cross way.

Advent: Look to
The hope future,
When through Him all
In sin’s thrall will
Stand tall or fall. Come, Lord, come fulfill!

(This was yesterday’s prompt, and I’m glad it took me till today to be able to write it, because the idea came out of a conversation Kraig and I had this evening. He was saying how during the message Sunday he suddenly saw the parallel of the first and second coming of Christ–the first is a Type of the second; they create a double-image, or (my mind shouted) a convergence. It seems fitting to have an Advent poem here at the beginning of this new season.

And the form is a ya-du, a Burmese poetry form which often refers to seasons. Each stanza is a quintain. The first four lines have four syllables; the final line has 5, 7, 9, or 11 syllables. The rhyme scheme goes like this: xxxa/xxax/xaxb/xxbc/xbxxc (Since my second stanza has nine syllables in the final line, my final rhyme scheme is this: xbxbxxxxc)

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Syzygy

The spheres all align, but
I wallow in trepidation,
Worrying about details of
Which You have promised even the 
Birds have no fear. Yet I juggle the spheres
And think my way is greater,
Thus upsetting the order even though
I know I should trust You far
More. My struggle for control is
Ongoing, even though you have declared me innocent.

“But trepidation of the spheres/Though greater far, is innocent.” 
~John Donne, “A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning”

(So! What is a “syzygy”? Basically it’s “the nearly straight-line configuration of three celestial bodies (such as the sun, moon, and earth during a solar or lunar eclipse) in a gravitational system.” (According to Merriam-Webster)

When I heard the prompt, I first thought of the phrase “the music of the spheres,” and that made me think of a line from John Donne’s “A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning,” so I decided to use that line and create another Golden Shovel poem. Somehow it ended up as a poem alluding to Matthew 6:25-27 and Romans 7:14-20. How’s that for an alignment?)

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Numinous/Thin Places

Why does the wide sky
With shifting clouds and colors
Make me long for more than this?

There’s something in it
That reminds me I’m not all;
It’s fine I don’t have answers.

(This poetry form is called a “mondo.” Basically it’s two stanzas with a 5-7-7 syllable pattern in each. The first stanza asks a question that the second answers, and it needs to be related to something seen in nature. Today’s prompt, Numinous/Thin Spaces refers to those places where the space between the mundane and the sacred seems thin, or thins. I think the sky always does that for me.)

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Sticky

Stories stick like glue,
Their concepts accrue 
For me.
Sadly, math won’t too—
Numbers lead a coup,
Break free.
I can’t shift my view,
But family true,
Loves me.

(I admit that as we near the end of this month, I’m looking for poetry forms that are shorter before I try my hand at the poem for the day (or the day after, in this case). Yesterday’s prompt was “Sticky” and I found a French poetry form called a “Lai,” a nine line poem which uses an aabaabaab rhyme scheme. The “a” lines have five syllables each, and the “b” lines have two. I deliberately chose words that had a lot of rhymes for “a” and while my “b” choice has lots of options as well, I ended up repeating one of the rhymes for the poem to make sense. Ah well!)

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Chains

Links connecting crosswise,
Woven chainmail flexing,
I speak with you and
Find we have connections
On the chains annexing.

(Have you ever found out when you met someone that you had a connection through someone else, or even just interests or experiences connected you? That’s what I had in mind when I put this poem together. I love it when that happens.

The form I chose today is known as a Flamenca, a Spanish quintain that’s related to the dance. The rhythm is supposed to be staccato, bringing to mind the clicking of the Flamenca dancers’ heels. Lines 1, 2, 4, & 5 have six syllables, line 3 has five syllables, and 2 & 5 assonate (rhyme or near rhyme). There can be as many stanzas as one wants, but one stanza seemed enough for my idea.)

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Roots

I learned about some trees, when they’re cut down
Will sprout a new fine shoot that’s left to grow
And thrives because of strong roots still below.

These roots keep plants above from growing brown
Because they store the water they bestow.
I learned about these trees when they’re cut down
Will sprout a new fine shoot that’s left to grow.

This precious wealth of underlying crown,
Unseen, yet sending life robust and slow,
Makes new tree stretch and garden riches flow.
I learned about some trees, when they’re cut down
Will sprout a new fine shoot that’s left to grow
And thrives because of strong roots still below.

(There were so many ways this prompt could have been taken, especially around Thanksgiving, but I kept thinking about a ministry I heard about the other month: FMNR, Farmer Managed Natural Regeneration. This organization helps third world farmers nurture the shoots from trees that have been cut for field space. If they regrow new saplings using the old root system, the tree has a better chance of survival than a brand new sapling. In addition to this, the old root system retains more water which is spread out under the planted field, and so the field is more drought resistant. It’s all kind of amazing, and I’m just beginning to wrap my brain around it. You can read more about it here: https://fmnrhub.com.au.

As for the poetry form, I chose an English Madrigal (created by Chaucer). It’s iambic pentameter with a tercet, quatrain, and sestet. The three lines in the first stanza are reused throughout the poem.)

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Tightrope

The connecting places have been secured,
The rope between is tight, but supple.
I just need to step out on it.

One end is held by God, family, and friends;
The other end is a printed book.
The connecting places have been secured.

The years stretch back to that starting place,
So much life has happened, so much still will;
The rope between is tight, but supple.

So today as my book leaps into the world,
I know I must follow it along that rope—
I just need to step out on it.

(The prompt today, Tightrope, seemed about right for the state of my mind with my book release. I feel like I’m balancing precariously, leaning between the thrill and the unknown. On the blurb for today’s prompt our poetry host mentioned that she’d never really thought about the fact that a tightrope has two connection points, and that opened up more thoughts for me. What are the connecting points for this tightrope I’m now on?

As I browsed various poetry forms, I was caught by the Cascade, a poem that repeats the lines of the first stanza throughout the poem. It can be much more complex than what I’ve done, but I kept it simple. I think it communicates some of this journey I’ve been on!)

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Heart-to-Heart

A thousand times we had a heart-to-heart;
I used my art of words to cast light
On the way your word and deed brought sorrow,
Each mental blow causing further blight.

You heard me and you understood my grief!
To my relief you answered my call;
You asked forgiveness and sought to amend,
And our friendship survived that hard squall.

As I said, a thousand times we conversed—
I rehearsed every line in my mind—
But in truth, that’s the only place we spoke;
I dared not provoke a heart so blind.

(Sorry for the slightly depressing theme today! Did you ever have a situation like this one? Today I had an idea to go with this prompt, heart-to-heart, but I still wanted to use a form, so I found one that gave me parameters, but let me (try) to communicate my thought. This is the Toddaid, another Welsh poetry form that reminds me a little of the Dechnad Cummaisc I tried with the poem “Network.”

See if you can catch this one. In each quatrain, lines 1 & 3 have 10 syllables. Lines 2 & 4 have nine syllables and the same end rhyme. The last syllable of line 1 rhymes with a syllable within line 2, and the last syllable of line 3 rhymes with a syllable within line 4.)