How Daily Haiku Can Make Your Life Easier

Writen by Edward A. Weiss

So you’re off to work. A million things to think about. Deadlines and your boss are at your throat and you wonder why you even got out of bed. At least you have daily haiku!

Daily haiku is a new service presented by Wisteria Press, a small haiku press located in San Diego. For those of you who don’t know, haiku is an age-old Japanese poetry form that uses just a few words to capture the beauty of nature. While the 5-7-5 syllable rules may or may not be followed by modern haiku poets, the poem’s form itself really hasn’t changed.

It still speaks of quiet moments we may have missed due to our busy lives. In fact, it is exactly these overlooked moments that haiku specialize in! For example, take a look at this daily haiku poem (from Wisteria Press)

Sunrise –
Mist hides
The sea cliffs

In just 6 words we have a complete picture before us! We know what time of day it is (morning) because the author has indicated it by using the word “sunrise.” We know that it is misty out and that the viewer must be on a beach somewhere because mist is obscuring the sea cliffs. All of this is accomplished in just 6 short words. Amazing!

Imagine receiving this kind of poetry on a daily basis. Why, you might actually be able to slow down a little, if only for a few seconds and appreciate nature’s beauty. There is so much we don’t see. Fortunately, we have poets and other artists who help us take a breath and notice things of beauty we may have otherwise passed by. A daily haiku service will help you see these “missing gems” and give you a moment of peace.

Difficult Times

Writen by Nick Jacob

I am walking in my normal life now, difficult times ahead. The times working in my life, I cannot stretch how far they’ll go.
Existed for many generations upon this earth, how many more times do I have left. I ask for salvation, I ask for strength, the only thing I seem to receive is a loss of wisdom.
My wisdom is strong, my knowledge is deep, I know the simple facts of life. Many men try to understand what I have to say, but only some take the time to listen.
All I ask is for access back, down the path, into salvation of the mortal The only thing I ever wanted was access to the portal.
My writing strengthens, my heart grows, and it all begins with the path of the Woman and the great love that shows.
She walks, she works, she talks, she speaks, she looks and listens; the life begins with True Love. Which in essence is the signs of a true dove.
Her hair in the sky, her hair as bright as thy, walking, working and shaking her beauty to the left, to the right, I know now nothing guides me as much as her.

Nick Jacob
http://www.electronicsathome.com

A Tribute to "The Rape of the Lock"

Writen by Tushar Jain

Rape of the lock by Alexander Pope

The Rape of the lock is not only an exquisitely ingenious example of a perfect satire, it is an exceptionally beautiful candidate contesting man’s greatest achievements in intellectual capacity, for the kind of grace that is an immortal goal in every man. Rape of the lock is an uncommon satire based on a true incident in the life of Arabella Fermor and Lord Petre, where Lord Petre at a ball was so enraptured by Miss Fermor that he proceeded to snip away a lock of her hair. This very incident triggered rigorous rivalries between the two respectively distinguished families, which we are made to know, were on otherwise better and more convivial terms. Pope, imbued and kindled by both Muse and imagination, went ahead to concoct a tale that elaborated the vanity and the ludicrousness of undertaking such a needless enterprise of a breach for an unworthy and ineffably trifling reason. It is believed that Rape of the Lock by Alexander Pope, was instrumental in redeeming the lost cordiality and amity amongst them and pronouncing the hatchet buried. In the following snippets, I’ll alight upon what I consider the cardinal cantos of the poem. So, they follow -

CANTO 3

Before summarizing the third canto, it is essential to remember that Pope consistently burlesques Homer’s and Virgil’s prowess in the epical fashion, establishing the most fundamental and draconic of principles of allowing some semblance to the genre of producing a mock-epic. The third and fourth cantos, with the one exception of the Homeric battle in the fifth canto, stockpile almost all key instances of parodied or satirized scraps of the majestic epic approach. Even in a segregate essay by Pope himself, he pokes cool, unlabored fun at the epic motif and infers that the epical style of writing is choked with invariable conventional loopholes that can only very lamely qualify as stipulations of style or a freak of an ideology.

Now, the summarizing of Pope’s mock epic may concern a very abstract approach, as is commonplace to paraphrasing poetry. Written for the eighteenth century layman, on the whole the satire can be intriguingly assumed to mark the hypocrisy of the aristocratic class, and if such an advent is welcomed, then the third canto is the vastest episode of such a stabbing enterprise. By debunking the vanity involved behind the walls of the private chambers of Hampton Court, Pope concentrates on envisioning a supercilious and hypocritical stubbornness of a superfluous class that overtly toils to embellish their miens or general natures with unusual airs as those of snuff-boxes and card-games. Much space has been rendered to the neat portrayal of the card-game, Ombre, which has been confidently imitated from the ‘Scacchia of Vida’, and by such an example in a castigating satire, perhaps Pope aims to chastise the vain, grotesque and much refutable elitist temperaments and unworthy sophisticated dispositions of a haughty and lofty class of aristocracy. It is during the card game that Belinda encounters with the Baron and defeats him at the game.

Proceedings head so that the Baron, so stimulated by Belinda’s unerring, beguiling charms that he readies himself to snip away a lock of her hair. Though reasons have not been fashioned, but Clarissa is the one who lends the scissors to the baron to commence the nefarious deed. Throughout these junctures, it is perhaps the sylphs (Pop borrowed the idea of the invisible beings from a little French book entitled, Le Comte de Gabalis) that are not only great sources of amusement but provide some categorical intensity and swashbuckling nervy gung-ho zest to the scene – ‘Swift to the lock a thousand sprites repair’. A few sylphs tug at Belinda’s earring about thrice, making her turn just a tad, not enough to spot the Baron with the ‘engine’. Some sylphs humorously, drolly but still unsuccessfully attempt at blowing at the endangered lock to make it shift, budge.

Ariel, Belinda’s personal sylph, tries to conduct all other sylphs but then discovers that since Belinda holds some delicate but hidden feelings for the baron, he too retreats obediently. The deed is done. The Baron snips away a lock of Belinda’s hair with the spread ‘fatal Forfex’. The immediate denouement explains how a sylph ventures between the blades of the scissors to arrest the process but is divided in two, which line is an admirable parody on Milton’s idea of a wounded Satan – ‘The girding sword, with discontinuous wound, passed thro him; but the ethereal substance closed, Not long divisible’. At the end of the canto, Pope lends a comic panegyric to the invention that is steel and how more than once it has confirmed the doom of man. On the whole, it is just to point out that this canto might solely be the most pregnant of the five, for it holds all real and effectual action of the satire.

Omens have been general and generally conventional to a poet’s technique to imply or suggest or presage some oncoming adversity. Virgil did it to develop upon the death of Dido. The rape of Belinda’s lock too is preceded with alarming, droll and comic prodigies, which can be discovered in the first canto.

CANTO 4

Canto 4 discusses the sphere of the domesticated supernatural, i.e., the sylphs, in detail and with more creative ingenuity as Pope deliberates on the ‘gloomy cave of Spleen’.

Summarizing:

The affairs as their turn have them are sublimated from, and the scene shifts to the cave of spleen as a gnome or ‘a dusky melancholy Spright’, Umbriel, careers down or repairs to the Central earth, to the cave of spleen. Spleen, though imagined in the text as a deity, is actually the personification of a melancholic disorder prevalent in ladies of the upper social strata due to intense torpor, languor and indolence. There are vicious images governing the cave dovetailed with the enthroned, detached, ‘wayward queen’, to whom the gnome entreats to ‘touch Belinda with Chagrin’. The gnome returns with a bag of the queen’s replete munificence and finds Belinda in Thalestris’s arms. Thalestris, another character virginal to the poem as of yet, was the implied queen of the Amazons. It is suggested that Umbriel issues all the vile contents of the bag over them both, and then commences a menagerie, a pell-mell of swift comic action that would broadcast itself majestically in the fifth canto. Thalestris brandishes a violent, pugnacious speech under the supernatural influence and reprimands Belinda for her flimsy, helpless attitude. Then, we’re introduced to Sir Plume, who speaks naught but uncivil claptrap, twaddle and nonsense. Sir George Brown, the man after whom the character was framed, took great offense and couldn’t bear that Sir Plume would spew nothing but nonsense and gibberish.

Then the baron comes forth and reinforces his claim to the lock, and destines it as his forever. Umbriel, depraved gnome, sets himself to action once again as he breaks the vial of Sorrows and then the miserable, doleful nymph, Belinda, steals the cynosure. She curses the day, curses Hampton-court, and curses her need for vanity that snatched her best, her favorite lock away. She’s reminded of portending omens, and evinces remorse at not paying them their due heed, and finally, she sums it with an innuendo that – ‘Oh hadst thou cruel! Been content to seize, Hairs less in sight, or any hairs but these!’

Shoot queries at mosaics12@rediffmail.com

Write Your Way to Fame

Writen by Devrie Paradowski

Have you ever thought about how nice it would be to see your poem discussed in the New York Times? Think you have what it takes to become a famous poet? Well the unfortunate truth is that no one has what it takes to be a famous poet. Here’s a little exercise: Name the most famous contemporary poet you can think of. Louise Gluck, Frank Bidart, and Maya Angelou, are all well known poets, but did you even know who all of them were?

Mainstream America has no interest in poetry and so your biggest audience, as a poet, is going to be other poets. Even Maya Angelou had to write novels in order to place herself in the who’s who’s list of poets. Poets have to have day jobs. Even Pulitzer Prize winning poets are essentially awarded a day job along with the esteem and money that comes with the prize.

Now then, if you still aim to be a published poet, despite the lack of fame or wealth you will receive for your endeavors, there are a few things you can do to boost your “career.” Considering the fact that your biggest audience will be poets, you might need to establish a name for yourself within that circle.

Get subscriptions to well know literary journals. Keep your poetic eye on the kind of poetry that these journals publish. When you find a reputable journal that publishes poetry that compliments your poetic style, find out how you can submit your poem to this journal.

Submitting poetry to literary journals is an art in itself. Always pay particular attention to the guidelines and be sure to follow them to the last letter. If and when your poetry is published, be sure to pay attention to the rights. You might not be able to submit the same poems to another journal.

All right, then your next step will be to submit poetry to other journals, and since you’ve been published before, you can put that in your biography. You are now establishing a history of getting published in reputable journals. The more you publish, the higher you can go, see?

You can also try your hand at publishing chapbooks and asking local bookstores if you can do poetry readings to help you sell them. Self-publishing, which is how you publish your chapbooks, is more common and helpful for poets than it is for traditional novelists. The reason for this is that the consumer very rarely seeks after poetry. You might consider publishing your books and chapbooks after developing a history of getting published by literary journals.

Finally, don’t count out the power of the Internet Super Highway. Create a website for yourself that attracts the poetic community. Advertise your website and try to boost up your site’s Google rating. Once you do this, you have a great marketing tool for your self-published chapbooks and poetry books.

There are many ways, some not even mentioned in this article, for you to establish yourself as a poet. Just remember that it might be a slow, and at times, arduous journey that rarely yields wealth and fame.

Devrie Paradowski is a freelance writer and poet. Her poetry has been published by several literary journals and she has written dozens of articles for various publications including “Poetry Renewal Magazine,” and “Poetryscams.com.” She is the author of the chapbook, “Something In the Dirt,” which can be found at http://www.lulu.com/content/108560 . In 2001, Devrie founded a popular online literary community ( http://www.LiteraryEscape.com ) that has become highly respected for some of the most honest and in-depth poetic critique on the Internet. In keeping with her commitment to inspire amateur writers to hone their skills, she also founded a local writer’s group called, “The Fire and Ice Writer’s Group.”

Spell of the Andes: (in English and Spanish)

Writen by Dennis Siluk

Note: written 4-15-05, while driving through the Andes of Peru, from Huancayo to Lima. I sensed I was but an ant, among the mass of stone, earth and foliage of this enchanting, and enduring landscape.

Spell of the Andes
By Dennis L. Siluk
English Version

This is a song of the Andes,

That reaches unto the sky On the slow warm days,
When the Cholos play,

And the river runs low and high.

The towering Andes look down

In the passing of the sun: “I’m one with the Andes brotherhood

I’m a dreamer, with a song.”

I came from afar to see her

And how beautiful she really is, With her strong hardness, fresh freedom
O God! How I want to breathe her

In the autumn of my life!…

Versi

Perfect Love: An Invitation – Poem

Writen by Paul Davis

PERFECT LOVE

When that which is perfect is come
Then that which is in part
Shall be done away with
The fullness of love
Once it is found
Overwhelms and increasingly abounds
Bringing indescribable joy
Pleasures full of glory
As God above
Rewrites your love story

Filled to overflowing
With innumerable blessings
Immeasurable expressions
A love that cannot be contained
Certainly such a feeling
None can adequately explain
Neither can intellects disdain.
Such a love
Which surpasses knowledge
And is full of surprises
With the power of the resurrection
It continually and mightily arises
Suddenly showing itself
Like the Spirit from above
Moving gently like a dove
Then appearing as unquenchable fire
Filling with uncontrollable desire

Such a feeling arises
When I’m with you
I need not to think
I know what to do
My heart is gripped
My soul fully employed
My faculties glued
My senses awakened
My world enlarged
My energy charged
Carefree as the wind
Riding the waves of my emotions
Tranquil as a peaceful river
Joyous as a flowing fountain
Ready at a moments notice
To scale any mountain
To cross any sea
To be with the love of my life
Through whom I see

Through you I see clearer
Through you I hear more
Through you I feel deeper
I’m gripped to the core

Spreading my wings like an eagle
Fearlessly bold
Able to roar like a lion
And shed tears young or old
Childlike in faith
Not holding back
Standing steadfast and strong
When under attack
Throwing caution to the wind
Eliminating excessive reasoning or spin
Realizing you are my breathe of life
And beside you I always win!

Happily ready
To get rid of the old
And make room for the new
For heaven above
Has shined brightly upon you!
Countless synchronicities
Have already occurred
Surprising my soul
Enlarging me beyond measure
Captivated entirely by you
My priceless dear treasure

You make me inwardly whole
To me none can compare
With the glory I see in you
For this reason I declare
My heart is for you
Whatever I must do
To prove myself to
That you I may woo
Satisfactorily without rue

Though trials may come
And tribulations arise
All will be well
When I look into your eyes.
For such a love
Truly I have never felt
As I do for you
You are more precious
Than life itself
My dream come true!

Amazing love
How can it be
That God above
Would so favor me
Giving me such a prized opportunity
To be a steward of your love
To cherish every moment
Treasure every experience
Hold dear every tear
Marvel in each new year
Serve you in innumerable ways
Bless you all my days
Surprise you by what I write and say
Love you each and every day

Imperfect as I am
The love within my heart
Remains flawless and perfect
For you my darling
The agape of God
Upon which no demon can trod
No demoralizing occurrence defeat
Joined together in such love
We shall not be beat
Nor ever repeat
The sorrows of yesterday
For a new day has dawned
The Son is shining
The hosts of heaven
Going before us and aligning
Our present and future
For the best is yet to come
As we yield
To the inner workings of the Spirit
Love’s perfection shall fully come
To saturate every area of our lives
To put an end to incessant strife
Familial frustration and division
Thwarted dreams and soulish screams
For the best is yet to come
As we lift high the banner of love
And with it wholeheartedly run
Manifesting His love in our own lives
Then carrying it to the nations
This perfect love
Will rearrange all situations
Bringing heaven to earth
Giving new birth
Divine design
Dream fulfillment
Causing every skeptic to be silenced
And all to hear it!

So arise my love
Come away
And draw nearer now
Let perfect love show you how
Trust your heart
Feed your faith
Starve your doubts and fears
For this is your God given year
A year of appointment
A year of anointing
A year of arising
A year of destiny unfolding

Perfect love is rushing toward thee
In numerous ways
Open your arms wide
Lift up your eyes
Trust in Christ within thee
And do not despise
What the God within
Is capable of accomplishing
Reorchestrating
Repositioning
Realigning
Refining
Reflourishing
Rebuilding
And renewing
For perfect love and thy destiny
Is simultaneously brewing
Breaking forth
Shaking thy world
Both within and without
For as it was with the children of Israel
Enslaved in Egypt
God is bringing you out
Into a wealthy place
Into a dwelling place
Where your heart can take rest
And you can arise
To be your best!

So get ready my love
The God of heaven has spoken
His word for you remains true
And shall not be broken
Perfect love is fearless
It never fails
And in comparison to it
All else pales.

This is your finest hour
An hour of love, wisdom and power
A season of suddenlies from heaven
Full of remarkable blessings
Countless lessons
Insightful instruction
But most of all
Perfect love’s invitation.

by Paul Davis – poet and prophet

Paul Davis is author of Breakthrough for a Broken Heart a book telling us “How to overcome disappointments and blossom into your dreams!” He is a minister, life coach (relational & professional), dating expert, popular worldwide keynote speaker, creative consultant, humor being, adventurer, explorer, mediator, liberator and dream-maker.

Paul’s compassion for people & passion to travel has taken him to over 50 countries of the world where he has had a tremendous impact. Paul has also brought revival to many in war-torn, impoverished and tsunami stricken regions of the earth. His nonprofit organization Dream-Maker Ministries is building dreams and breaking limitations.

Paul’s Breakthrough Seminars inspire, revive, awaken, impregnate with purpose, impart the fire of desire, catapult people into a new level of self-awareness, facilitate destiny discovery and dream fulfillment.

Paul can be contacted at: RevivingNations@yahoo.com – 407-967-7553 or 407-282-1745.

For additional info: http://www.CreativeCommunications.TV
http://www.BreakthroughSeminars.org
http://www.DreamMakerMinistries.com

The Cat Poem [Now in: Spanish and English]

Writen by Dennis Siluk

Note by the author: I am not sure what got into me about wanting to write a cat poem (as you can see I selected a great name for the poem); I just did it, out of the blue. I must have been triggered somehow because I do not care for cats. To be honest, if God gave me a choice between cats and cockroaches, I’d take the latter: and I’m sure I might have been a happier person. I do think cats are good for something, not sure what, perhaps for rats. It all stems back to when I was a boy scout, or at least that is what a psychologist would say: flashbacks, the white rabbit syndrome. When I was out camping at St. Croix camp grounds (Minnesota), back when I was thirteen, or so, I was in a big tent with kids, and guess who wakes me up? Yup, a cat purring down my mouth paws on my throat, and it scares the crap out of me when I opened my eyes and saw those marble eyes staring into mine.

Now that I think of it, perhaps this poem is long overdue. In any case, I dedicate it to all the cat lovers out there, to include my wife:

The Cat Poem

Cats, I never did care for them; My wife hadbefore we wed

Fifteen of them. They’re too lordly in the household

For me: Too aristocrat-able to please. They are everything but what they

Seem, and They seem surreal; and endlessly

Dreamingor perhaps it’s scheming (I can’t tell the difference)but, One thing I do know: they have mystic

Marble-eye-balls: gives me the chill.

#1065 1/6/06

IN SPANISH Translated by Nancy Penaloza

El poema del gato Por Dennis Siluk

Nota por el autor: Yo no estoy seguro que consigui

Communications Expert

Writen by Paul Davis

Communication is an art
A skill by which we transmit signals
Decode information
Impart knowledge
Seek understanding
Convey messages
Remove relational blockages
Convey feeling
Release healing

Communication is a verb
Through which we must be heard
By which we ignite inspiration
Deeply connect with someone
Or boldly move a nation
It requires attentiveness
A deep interest and concern
An insatiable curiosity
With which to experience and learn
It comes about
By a balanced exchange
A transfer of ideas
Opinions just the same
It never discounts or disqualifies
Fully embracing the other
Though it may not fully agree
It facilitates ongoing dialogue continually
And in so doing its magic occurs
As seeking understand and developing comradery
Allows all to be heard

By communication you discover
If you are on the same page
Or even reading the same book.
Beyond the spoken word
Intuitively you can know
Nonverbally by simply a glance or look
Facial expressions reveal
Bodily gestures convey
Often what a person
Refuses or does not want to say
Yet deep within
The neurological impulses surge
Though you bite your tongue
Try to hold back the urge.
Nevertheless the incongruence is seen
Though you turn off the audio
On your TV screen.
That face of yours
Still carries a picture
Until you breathe your last breath
It conveys every jolt and conjecture
Internal static and disharmony
It cannot be hidden
Neither necessarily from your life
Should it be ridden
Because your feelings are important
They count and should be validated too!
Beneath the layers
Of posturing and positioning
Your feelings reveal the true you.
So do not discount them
Or try to deny them
Instead it is far better
To affirm and embrace
Because they already show
All over your face

Communication is wonderful
Both verbal and nonverbal
Irrespective of the language you speak
And the barriers different languages erect
When we speak with our eyes
When we speak from the heart
All comes together
And no longer is apart
Seemingly most is understood
And much is set in order
Regardless of our cultural peculiarities
Or national borders.

So therefore whatever
Your means of communication
Endeavor to speak
And exert equal energy to listen
For in so doing
You will learn life lessons
You will grow in love for humanity
Appropriately valuing each soul
Eager to affirm rather than to criticize
Sincerely attentive
Hearing with your eyes
Patient to endure an opinion
With which you disagree
Kind enough to listen
And just let people be.

Giving the gift of communication
Is a priceless gift indeed
Many lonely souls yearn for it
And internally bleed
By hearing others
I gain new perspective
And further understand others
I create a safe place
For people to talk
As sisters and brothers.

Being communicative
Provides daily interaction
To be fulfilled at a deep level
As I awaken to my senses
Living fully present
Of those around me
Celebrating individuality
Honoring authenticity
And striving for sincerity.
Being communicative also enhances and enlarges me
As I celebrate others
They become all they can be
And return to celebrate me!

Neon Blue’s Unspoken Tales Of Buried Roses and Feathers Carved In Stone

Writen by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

18 May 2006

“Buried Roses”

if i had roses to give you

i would have buried them

muted their breath

measured their penitence

stopped the flood of overflowing criticism

the rain continues

I thought it’s shoulders were undaunted

horizontal landscapes catch the rhythm

hold gifts

good and bad

none the less given with due remarks of wanting shelter

in the presence of unadorned queens

was it you who never stopped noting thorns

of now quieted roses?

or me who allowed their travel?

—————————————–

19 May 2006

“Defined By So Few Words”

neon blue continues on

i am neither sad nor happy

i guess i find myself relieved

waiting for tears if i need them

i never realized her poems to be so short

so inconclusive

so undefined

she always seemed so magnificently tormented

ahhh zelda

where are you when i need you?

pointing in the direction of the sky

i expected beyond

but the treasure was in the trees

my eyes gathered them

standing beneath and within

i bend my branches

born with a melancholy

poets charm that pathway

books and paintings

sculptures of flight

rounded off with a drunken stupor

my fingers feel numb

i approach the station to arrive

i have been there and back

i am coated with the very same torment

said with few words

on the pages that you sent to me

————————————–

20 May 2006

‘Neon’s Unspoken Tales’

she said she knew you

i, of course took up her time

quoting our best/ worst moments

yet, only in my head

she never really heard our history

my memories burn still unspoken

be sure to call her everyday, she said

‘every’ day?

every single day?

just keep it short

that’s really all that’s needed

how do you fill a bottle too small?

how do you comb the hair of an old dolly

who’s locks are now sparse?

how do you find the voices

remembered

take them back

comfort them

instruct them in the art of positive thinking?

my moods are not always my own

——————————————

20 May 2006

‘Feathers Carved In Stone’

i am not sure how it settles…

the stone past the surface of the water

my words, my appraisal

in a crunch i refer to little boxes

sometimes empty

decorated with ribbons

sometimes filled with feathers carved in stone

i fall back on their sentimental comfort

of who i wish to be

strong, undaunted

graceful despite the climate

just like all the other ladies i admire

yet i sit at the bottom of this pond

i am not sure if it is mirky or clear

if my visions make sense to me at this moment

it may just be lie

i must hold the flag of my own destiny

fold up notes that overtake my heart

but then

i think i might miss them

i feel afraid that if i stand tall

i will find i do not exist

pieces of my flight

though they be stone

brought me here thus far

i would be leaving the little girl

with paper dolls

alone and still afraid

—————————————

25 May 2006

“A Promise and a Gift”

he fled from the mountains

arrived at the sea

leaving

all his gifts behind him

including me

white knights and sacred shells

reach out past sad

beyond

the sand a token

within this map

you came…so i left

you didn’t notice

pretending

i never really cared

————————————–

14 july 2006

“I Stroke Her Hair”

i stroke her hair

i mend her

again

despite her wild objections

defined by lines that did not match

she held herself closely

did not entertain streaks of light

river crossings

paths that led to lime green

i walk past her sigh and find it to be my own

buckle down you stupid girl!

consequences of moons that go unlocked

bring hues that grey up possibility

i shook her

i made her bleed

who did she think i was?

her eyes looked up

she asked for mercy

the kind that only i could give her

many a tormented heart is born out of passion

i stroked her hair

i gave her the box unopened

with all the gifts inside

because i was the only one who could

and the only one there

About Me:
Name:Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
Location:Hawaii, United States
Aloha! I am a figurative artist and Illustrator. If you check out my website you will see that I am very prolific in oils. My paintings are collected worldwide. I also do sculpture; images available upon request. I have illustrated for Hay House Inc. , Neil Davidson, who was considered for the Pulitzer Prize in feature writing, and several other publications. I also enjoy story writing and poetry. All of the paintings,stories and poems are written by me. Check out my website http://www.kathysart.com “Walk On The Wild Side” Series including the painting of “Neon Blue” is not on my website but can be viewed on my blog: http://kathysartcom.blogspot.com/

Enquiries

Writen by Joanne Hale

“Can I help you?” – I say
Because it’s part of my job
Seated in front of me
He opens his gob
“What does this mean?”
He looks at me and asks
What I feel like saying is;
“That you’re a pain in the ass!”
But I don’t – I just smile
And say, “May I look?”
I glance at his letter
I’d have rather read a book
“I’ll just get your papers”
I get up to go
Things that we do
To earn us some dough!
Whilst retaining my seat
I look at his file
Where do I begin?
I start with a smile
“Well, it’s like this”
Is how I begin
Why is his face
Covered in that big grin?
Is he sucking a lemon?
Or maybe a lime
He says, “I understand;
I’m just wasting your time!”