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March, 2015

  1. Meet Leandra Tuggle

    March 16, 2015 by C.

    Children playing

    Children playing

     

    Last week at my Writers Guild meeting, one young lady shared some of her poetry with us and I was just blown away by her talent. She had been coming to the meetings for several months and had never shared anything before. Her poem about her future children gave me goosebumps. I have never been a big fan of poetry but I like this work a bunch.

     

    Leandra agreed to let me share some of her work here on my page and what an honor that is for me. So please enjoy some real writing for once on this blog…Ladies and Gentlemen, a few works by Leandra Tuggle.

     

    “My Children”

    I wait for them.  My children
    for whom I dream and have dreamt.
    I soothe their sorrows with batches of
    imagined kisses and uneaten cookies.
    I talk to them – about their day, their teachers and friends;
    unanswered questions whispered into a metal whisk.
    I imagine chaotic mornings searching for lost
    socks and mittens and scurrying out the door in a flash.
    When I close my eyes as I close my door,
    I can almost hear them calling for me.

    And their names – oh their names – I have spent years
    searching for the perfect name.  I fall in love with
    characters and crayons and strangers and streets whose
    names resonate life and color. I draw them out on pieces of paper
    in hopes to find the perfect shade for
    the shades of myself.

    Eleanor ask me where I found her name and I tell
    her I never found it, it found me. Like the hidden book in
    a neglected library whose dusty jacket stands out amongst the rest;
    a name possessed by tradition and honor.

    Little Liam tells me that his name is too girly, but I tell
    him that his name reminded me of green meadows and deep
    forests – where only an adventurer could live.

    And my precious Evangeline, or Evie as I whisper to her as I carry
    her to bed; her dark hair and light eyes needed a name as
    beautiful – my heavenly angel, my shooting star.

    I remember all the other contenders: Avery and Holden and
    Lydia and Lincoln.  They’re still in the back of my mind playing with
    blocks or crudely coloring in the shapes of bears and dinosaurs.

    As I fall asleep, I hold my breath so I can hear their reassuring
    snores and imagine what they are dreaming: juice boxes and
    squeaky swings and faraway castles and talking dragons.
    And in the morning, I imagine waking to their peering eyes rather
    than those of the  inconsiderate sun, who fails to give me even just a
    few more minutes to play and talk and laugh and hold them
    in my dreams.

     

    “Bouquets”

     

    I lay here;

    the cottage cheese bed folding in around me

    like the shameful palms pursed around a pleading prayer.

    I stare at the bedside table.

    It rests like a forgotten child used only for the neglected flowers that

    I claim that you gave me.

     

    The woman with the flower cart had a lazy eye

    and she sang the saddest song.

    Of the hills of Czechoslovakia (or

    another country I only pretend to know exists)

    and as she sang this song

    Your face was everywhere.

    In the driver of the parked taxicab.

    In the reflection of a window.

    In the murky puddle beneath my feet.

    And I felt sorry for myself

    But sorrier for the

    lazy-eyed lady

    and all her

    lazy-eyed children, so I bought the

    flowers.

     

    Now when I stare at them, your

    eyes look up from every petal,

    and I feel sick.

    So I rest my cheek upon the cool nakedness of the pillow

    while a bouquet of tears collect beneath my chin.

     

    “Moonlight”

    There was me and you and the moonlight.  We existed

    in threes.  Our wholes divided and melded into one.

    Your hands were my hands.  My heart yours too.  Even

    the moon took the same shape as your eyes, they staring

    at me staring at you.

     

    I wish we could’ve stayed there forever.  The world stopping

    for one goddamn moment so that I could breathe you into me

    I want to create a hole in the world the shape of us and

    never escape.  The world can keep turning, keep bleeding, but

    you and me will rise above it               below it            between it.

     

    That night will always bring me joy.  In my old age, my

    abandoned mind will return to that moment.  The nurses will feed me

    pills and pears and pillows and I’ll go on babbling about how soft the

    blades of your shoulders felt poured into my palms and the tickle of

    your stubble on my knee.

     

    And that fucking moonlight – that blinds me from everything that

    I once thought was important, real.

     

    For more information on Leandra Tuggle please seek her out here:

    https://leandratuggle.wordpress.com/

    https://www.facebook.com/leandratuggle


  2. Words with Enemies

    March 10, 2015 by C.

    Don't play with my mom!

      Don’t play with my mom!

     

     

    My sister and I bought our mom a smart phone for her birthday in September. Since she is older, we got the Samsung Galaxy Note, thinking with the really large screen she would be able to see it much easier than a normal smart phone.

    She didn’t mess with it too much at first. She’s terrified of all things electronic. Slowly, over the past few months she has gotten more and more brave with it.

    I will admit when she asked me to start downloading games for her to play I was a little skeptical. I gave her “Trivia Crack” first. In the beginning,  she loved it. A week later she informed me she was over it.

    “This game just takes too long. I am constantly waiting for people to take their turn. I deleted it today.”

    She deleted it? Hell, I had no idea she would even begin to know how to delete an app.

    Next up, “Slotmania”.

    “Chanin, they want money from me! It’s asking me to buy coins! I am not putting my credit card information into a phone for shit sake!” And that got deleted as well.

    Then I downloaded, “Candy Crush”. I thought this was it. Every person I know was addicted to it for a small amount of time…even myself. This she will like. She plays alone, no waiting involved and I will be off the hook for finding her a game.

    “This game is just dumb. I don’t care about matching colors. This just won’t be a challenge at all.”

    Oh, how wrong she is about that. There were times when I would have given up a kidney to get past a level on that Candy Crush.

    As a last resort, I downloaded “Words with Friends” for her. She has always been a fan of Scrabble, so I told her it is just like it. I helped her play her first word on the board and left her to it.

    Two days went by and I got a phone call.

    “This woman I’m playing with is cheating! You know how much I hate cheaters!”

    My mind flashed back to a friendly game of Scrabble involving my family and a friend who was in town visiting. She and my mom got into a massive argument over the word, “poi”. My friend told her she couldn’t use it because it was a foreign word and my mom argued back that in fact, it was not. They got out a dictionary and at one point I thought they might come to blows or at least scratch each other’s eyes out. It was UGLY. So ugly, that there is still resentment and anger between them over this one evening of Scrabble.

    Now, you or I would just stop playing with the random online Words with Friends person. But noooooooooooooooooooooo, my mom sends the woman a message telling her she needs to read the rules, because she is not playing correctly. That of course, got the woman all upset and she wrote back saying, ” I have played this game for years and I do not cheat. I know the rules.”

    Later in the afternoon, Mom calls again to tell me they continue to argue about the cheating and pretty soon she might need me to come up with some bail money because she isn’t going to tolerate it much longer.

    Sigh. When is she ever going to grow up?