100 words – essay
Don’t trust the cat is the number one rule, wise city mice tell their country cousins. Number two is that not all cheese is created equal. Sometimes cheese is deadly bait, and when they find out it’s too late.
The third rule is to stay near quick exits when exploring for food. Mice have modes of communication – squeaks and peeps – that warns them if any danger creeps.
As long as they follow mouse rules they can play night and day.
I hope your not surprised that mice are so organized. At some point in evolution they became unionized.
essay – 140 words
I still remember when the ’32 Ford Coupe ruled the road for street racers in the fifties and early sixties.
It’s hoodless engine and nitro tank strapped to the grill gleaming with polished chrome and promises of power were worshiped by teenagers who gathered in groups to watch the street rods race on lonely roads.
Butch haircuts competed with James Dean’s classic looking hair. Jeans and t-shirts everywhere. Girls wore pumps with pleated skirts and short bobbed hair. Teenagers were going steady with class rings and varsity jackets. Wolf Man Jack called the races at the right places and passed messages on to lovers and the lonely.
The need for speed was a tremendous thirst that made local heroes famous nationally when they came in first. These lords of the road have long disappeared or sold out.
Memories can be so poignant.
essay – 160 words
My earliest memories are of feeling different. An alien, an outsider, hiding my inner thoughts carefully so people couldn’t see the real me. So people wouldn’t know that my imagination was a wild beast with no rules.
From an early age, I learned not to outwardly stray from the path of normality laid down for me by my parents. I bowed to reality, but secretly set it aside to explore other worlds, to seek the mysteries of life, and to go where I didn’t think others would.
I still awkwardly navigate from fact to fiction when I write. The idea of other dimensions is real to me, because I’ve been to them many times in my history. Opening doors and stepping through is nothing new to someone who has felt different all their life.
I walk through the world with eyes wide open, hoping to fine other people like me. Seekers unafraid of mysteries and what their imagination can see.
Essay – 1 minute read
The traditional gatekeepers of poetry, professors and such, have longed considered themselves quality control experts. Their narrow interpretation of what constitutes worthy works comes with constrictions and different restrictions.
Examples include:, Haiku, Ballad, Stev, Ode, Free verse, Blank verse, thematic, limerick and nursery rhymes. Spoken out loud, they provide powerful images within the confines of each style. A feat many writers haven’t bothered to try, poetry, was once deemed elitist and a byproduct of scholarly snobbery.
But The Beat Generation came along in my time and showed that not all poems have to rhyme and that provocative word pictures could be painted without formal meter or stanza standing in the way. A revolution that is still happening today.
Even more important to me, is that everyone can feel free to write poetry on their own websites or social platforms without conventional publishers dictating terms to them.
This, because of the growing poet population online, is the new Golden Age of Expression
100 words –
Growing up is a paradox. A mystery to me.
An oddity with its inconsistency, because aging is both a gift and a curse.
Innocence and youth combine in exploration through a vivid imagination. No restraints on the confines of reality. No door closed. No thought unthinkable.
As age settles in, our experiences in the real world become mundane, as we learn that too much imagination may lead to people thinking we’re insane.
Doors once open to the mind, disappear in the daily grind. Bogged down by hard science and reality. Lost in logic and banality. Unoriginality is the final casualty.
100 words –
I like words that are powerful, inspiring, and true.
Words that bolster beliefs like boulders in a wall. Words that ring large for one and all. Massive words that roll across the landscape like an earthmover leaving the reader in awe.
Words describing mighty deeds tumble from the imagination like wild seeds spreading stories among societies searching for ways to express their inner most desires.
Monumental words mount up until the moment a kingdom rises from its slumbers and listens to the messages missives convey. A new day documented and emailed to eager searchers of weighty words.
100 words –
The heathen hoard clambered over the remnants of the consciousness wall, bringing madness to the chaos already imbedded there.
Reality is readily routed. The dreamer tries to break the dark ties, but only finds loathsome things like nightmares. Ghastly memories rooted in time tip-toe through their unconscious mind.
Unforgiving monsters stalk the sleeping brain, seeking tears by using fears built up through the years. Slumbering memories of sadness step around madness every night in a silent fight against nightmares and fears.
The gods comment: “Poor humans. They’re so frail that their minds are held hostage when they go to sleep.”