Beth Camp's Blog, page 28
April 22, 2020
April 22: Quirky?
Writers are supposed to have their quirks.
I know one who kept apples in his desk,
breathing in the scent as inspiration.
Not me. My quirks are simple,
switch the hat from morning writer
to afternoon editor and formatter.
Think about it: Two hours to
insert headers and footers
in a 55,000 word novel.
Who could be inspired by that?
But once the task is done,
I can move on. Since my books
take a
I know one who kept apples in his desk,
breathing in the scent as inspiration.
Not me. My quirks are simple,
switch the hat from morning writer
to afternoon editor and formatter.
Think about it: Two hours to
insert headers and footers
in a 55,000 word novel.
Who could be inspired by that?
But once the task is done,
I can move on. Since my books
take a
April 21, 2020
April 21: Tribute to a Soddy
"Come with me," he said.
"We'll move out to the Great Plains.
We'll have our own place,
a long way from all this."
She said yes. They bundled up
their belongings, and,
carrying what they could,
walked west,
too poor to take a train.
They hitched a ride,
filed papers in Lincoln, Nebraska,
grateful for the Homestead Act of 1862
and 160 acres.
By then, she was pregnant.
He built her a soddy out
"We'll move out to the Great Plains.
We'll have our own place,
a long way from all this."
She said yes. They bundled up
their belongings, and,
carrying what they could,
walked west,
too poor to take a train.
They hitched a ride,
filed papers in Lincoln, Nebraska,
grateful for the Homestead Act of 1862
and 160 acres.
By then, she was pregnant.
He built her a soddy out
April 20, 2020
April 20: Isolation
Long after you resume
the coming and going freely,
that swirl of errands
and work and children,
my grandchildren,
I shall remain at home,
isolated,
a member of that compromised group,
one who has lived too long,
perhaps with nothing to contribute
to that bustling world,
like butterflies that pass before me,
I see, but I cannot touch.
I feel, but I cannot speak.
Free Photos at Pixabay
TODAY'S
the coming and going freely,
that swirl of errands
and work and children,
my grandchildren,
I shall remain at home,
isolated,
a member of that compromised group,
one who has lived too long,
perhaps with nothing to contribute
to that bustling world,
like butterflies that pass before me,
I see, but I cannot touch.
I feel, but I cannot speak.
Free Photos at Pixabay
TODAY'S
April 19, 2020
April 19: A word or two from Shakespeare
If I were to resolve
that moment when
an embrace became a bump,
leaving me lonely,
howling against the dark, dark night,
then I would be Shakespeare,
a fixture on the stage, pacing
back and forth, mourning
that damned spot,
and crying, "Out! Out!"
Shakespeare by JJ Jordon (Pixabay)
Not every thought is sun-filled on Day 48 of quarantine. Today's prompt from Robert Lee Brewer of
that moment when
an embrace became a bump,
leaving me lonely,
howling against the dark, dark night,
then I would be Shakespeare,
a fixture on the stage, pacing
back and forth, mourning
that damned spot,
and crying, "Out! Out!"
Shakespeare by JJ Jordon (Pixabay)
Not every thought is sun-filled on Day 48 of quarantine. Today's prompt from Robert Lee Brewer of
April 18, 2020
April 18: A Polite Pineapple
If every word or action
could be decoded, we introverts,
happily quiet in these days of quarantine,
would wish for pineapples
to give those friends who
yet stop by.
For long ago, when travelers came to
plantations by coach,
and visits were measured
by weeks and months,
each morning, a fresh pineapple
would appear in the visitor's room,
perfectly sliced, juicy
and with a silver spoon.
Until that
could be decoded, we introverts,
happily quiet in these days of quarantine,
would wish for pineapples
to give those friends who
yet stop by.
For long ago, when travelers came to
plantations by coach,
and visits were measured
by weeks and months,
each morning, a fresh pineapple
would appear in the visitor's room,
perfectly sliced, juicy
and with a silver spoon.
Until that
April 17, 2020
April 17: On Visiting Giza
I have stood on the banks of the Nile
and stared into the eyes of the Sphinx,wandered between the tumbled small pyramidsof the three queens, and watched the sunchange the colors of the three great pyramids:Cheops, Khafre, Menkaure. They all hoped for that divine sleep that closed their eyes,but kept their souls alive.Each gold-framed jewel, each sarcophagus, each mural painting, each ritual
and stared into the eyes of the Sphinx,wandered between the tumbled small pyramidsof the three queens, and watched the sunchange the colors of the three great pyramids:Cheops, Khafre, Menkaure. They all hoped for that divine sleep that closed their eyes,but kept their souls alive.Each gold-framed jewel, each sarcophagus, each mural painting, each ritual
April 16, 2020
April 16: The Last Breath
If I could imagine the last breath
life on this planet would take,
think underwater,
that struggle for air,
and then, truly, an ending.
Not even pandemic will alter
what we all must face at some point.
Not the time for joking
as family gathers by the window or
an open door, unable to step near.
I can only whisper, "Cherish each day,
for they are numbered."
What lies beyond is
life on this planet would take,
think underwater,
that struggle for air,
and then, truly, an ending.
Not even pandemic will alter
what we all must face at some point.
Not the time for joking
as family gathers by the window or
an open door, unable to step near.
I can only whisper, "Cherish each day,
for they are numbered."
What lies beyond is
April 15, 2020
April 15: Dreaming
These days, we stay inside, quarantined,
except for that mandatory excursionfor groceries or prescriptions. A daily walk is encouraged, ten blocksup to the pond, a tally of birds justbeginning to nest, their mating colorsmatch their calls, vibrant, echoing.Red-winged Blackbirds and Yellow-headed Blackbirds argue overwho has possession of the reeds.
But, I want to fly,not just in memory. I want
except for that mandatory excursionfor groceries or prescriptions. A daily walk is encouraged, ten blocksup to the pond, a tally of birds justbeginning to nest, their mating colorsmatch their calls, vibrant, echoing.Red-winged Blackbirds and Yellow-headed Blackbirds argue overwho has possession of the reeds.
But, I want to fly,not just in memory. I want
April 14, 2020
April 14: The marking of a moment
I have driven under a tornado, noting
its shifting form as we argued
whether to take shelterunder a bridge or to keep going,the car lifting from the groundwith each gust of wind. Nature follows laws,
even when we do not knowtheir structure or form,or how we are changed.Doesn’t Nature’s beauty seem accidental,the possession of artists, intuitiveand somehow intimate, a living poem, a respite from
its shifting form as we argued
whether to take shelterunder a bridge or to keep going,the car lifting from the groundwith each gust of wind. Nature follows laws,
even when we do not knowtheir structure or form,or how we are changed.Doesn’t Nature’s beauty seem accidental,the possession of artists, intuitiveand somehow intimate, a living poem, a respite from
April 13, 2020
April 13: Don't Look
I read somewhere that when
you look at a gorilla with intention,the gorilla, being a shy creature, may decideyou are a threat to his family
and attack you in a flash,
some 300 pounds of confrontation.So, if you are traveling in gorilla country,don’t look.Once at a zoo with a large compoundfor gorillas, I saw a male sitting quietly,
his back against a tree.I looked at him and then away.He looked
you look at a gorilla with intention,the gorilla, being a shy creature, may decideyou are a threat to his family
and attack you in a flash,
some 300 pounds of confrontation.So, if you are traveling in gorilla country,don’t look.Once at a zoo with a large compoundfor gorillas, I saw a male sitting quietly,
his back against a tree.I looked at him and then away.He looked
