Monday, January 26, 2015

Writer’s Workshops 10: Writing Fun!

Hi everyone! Today’s a good day for some writing.

The following is the opening sentence to a writing prompt.

You can use it or abuse it.

By that, I mean you can either use part of the sentence to start your writing or you can use all of it. The idea is to write something down, whether it’s a paragraph or short story.

Happy writing!


It’s not like there was anything wrong with me, but the clock struck ten o’clock and my nerves shot up as a bad omen.


My thoughts are supernatural! Metamorphism anyone? or Maybe just a bad case of test anxiety? Hmm… He spent all night at the bar, thinking about how she stood him up, and dozed off right when the game ended. Drool sipped out of his mouth while the funniest dream ensued in his mind. That was, until his phone went off at ten o’clock and… the dream played out in front of him. His nerves shot up and…

Monday, January 19, 2015

Death as Metaphor 15: Dreams that Play Death and Violence

Poets who include death or violence in their poetry do so for different reasons.

Themes of death and violence may be portrayed in poetry. Sometimes, due to experiences with death and violence is what plays a role in these writings. It also is apparent that dreams with death and violence play a role in trying to understand the reasons for using metaphors in poetry.

Dreams contain a lot of meaning and images that the dreamer may not be aware of. There are various images that appear in dreams that provide messages about the real world and our own conclusions of our lives.

“Symbols are the ‘words’ used by dream language: each one represents an idea, a memory, a mood, an insight, arising from the dreamer’s unconscious (Fontana, David. The Secret Language of Dreams: A Visual Key to Dreams and Their Meanings. San Francisco: Chronicle Books. 1994. Page 40).”

However, some dream symbols may change their meaning from one person to another. Most of the symbols make sense to the dreamer because they form associations to the dreamer’s real life and other symbols hold universal meaning. When one represses emotions of anger toward a spouse or loved one, a symbol that may be dreamt is the decapitating of the head. This symbol is one of removing the problem and moving on.

Writing poems with dream images can evoke the strong emotions needed to convey the message, even if the themes of death and violence are not real.

Monday, January 12, 2015

Books I’m Reading 13

Try Reading Again: How to Motivate and Teach Older Beginners, Age 10 and Up by DeAnna Horstmeier, Ph.D. Great book describing on detail the Triangle Method to help students learn to read which includes Phonics/Phonemic Awareness, Language Experience Stories, and Fluent reading of structured stories by others.
The Moon before Morning by W.S. Merwin is an awesome poetry collection. It’s the kind you can read while sitting outside your patio with a good cup of tea, even the birds will join you!

The Golden Road by Rachel Hadas is a wonderful poetry collection.

Firefly Ubder the Tongue by Coral Bracho. This is a bilingual collection of poetry by a Mexican woman. Her use of language is exciting with lots of water images.

Monday, January 5, 2015

Short Stories & Such 16: The Song That Changed Everything

Welcome Back!

Since it’s the New Year, I decided to post a story about birth. I wrote this a while back, so I adjusted it somewhat and decided to share the edits. Of course like all stories I post here, it still needs a lot of work, but it sure is fun looking back at what I started with and learning to better myself as a writer. Enjoy!

                                                The Song that Changed Everything

A slow melody eased from the office radio like syrup dripping from a bottle onto a fat pancake.

“That song again.”

“Please try not to strain yourself,” the nurse said. She nudged me away from the wheel bed and the sound of cooing filled the room.

We were heading for the emergency room. I wasn’t sure what to do, but the song kept playing and I wanted to stay close.

“Ugh…” That song’s been on my mind ever since my friend Jamie left. We played cards during her visit. That is, until this happened.

Love… love is my one

Love… love for you


I can’t believe it. It was my favorite song, too. It was the “it” song for Jamie and I. She was the one that got away, you know. We could have made it work, but she didn’t feel the same way. She was going to remain true to me… to the rest of us on the farm. She was going to stay on with me on the farm.

This song. This song just felt all wrong now even though it was a happy occasion.

“Sir, you have to step aside now.”

“But I’m with her!”

“Sir, there’s nothing you can do here. Please take a seat in the waiting room.”

I paced back and forth. My hands trembled as the thoughts about my new life of building a home for the animals floated in front of me.

This song.

The four vacant walls stared at me like a blank paper. They seemed to throb along with my pulsing head. I could have popped a vein in the hours I was there.



“It’s a healthy baby girl.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Of course. Do you want to see her?”

“No! It cannot be. We were expecting a boy. He was going to sire future bulls!”

 You can view the original draft at Writer’s Digest under ‘Chilo’ for March 27, 2012 Writing Prompt at