Day 31 Creative Bloomings Camp Back home

Back Home from Vacation

Week One: Exhausted. Unpack. What was I doing before I left and why?

Week Two: Ah yes, I remember. It has caught up to me with a vengeance.

Week Three: Up to my ears in to-dos.

Week Four: Catching up a bit

Week Five: Start looking at travel brochures.

Week Six: Major project accomplished

Week Seven: Itching to go somewhere

Week Eight: Time for a vacation.

Day 30 Creative Bloomings camp Goodbybe

Goodbye Poeming Camp

Instead of singing around the campfire,

we tap on laptop keys in our homes.

Instead of swimming, canoeing,

horseback riding, we play

with words, prompts and metaphors.

Instead of gobbling hotdogs and s’mores,

we feast on each other’s creativity.

We never see our fellow campers,

but we enjoy each other’s company.

Our camp counselors did a good job

and now I wonder, what next? 

Day 29 Creative Bloomings Camp Don't want to go home

Camp Ends

The river gurgles its goodbyes.

The pine trees sadly wave farewell.

The empty campsites look forlorn,

and, oh, what stories they could tell!

The rafts look lonely tucked on shore.

The dinner bell no longer rings.

The game equipment hides away.

The crows fly off on wistful wings.

The campers vow they’ll keep in touch,

with shouts of, “See you next year!”

As soon as the bus goes ‘round the bend,

the counselors begin to cheer!

Day 28 Creative Blooming Camp event

On all you can eat pasta night

We always end up in a messy fight

The goo sticks in our hair

Shirt, socks, underwear

Oh you’ve never seen such a sight

Day 27 Creative Bloomings camp haiku

Bugs scuttle, scurry

Whirring, fluttering, buzzing

Enjoying the rays 

Day 26 Creative Bloomings camp form poem

Lost and Hungry

We wandered down the same old path

With just a moments rest

Not even bread left in our sacks

Which bugs would taste the best?

Best cook them first in the stew pot

Over an open fire

We gathered up some short, dry sticks

The night of the bug pyre

Pyre down a shade or two

We dreamed that on the grill

We’d cook blueberry pancakes  

Till tummy noises stilled

Day 25 Creative Bloomings camp community service

Special Needs, Special People

You rarely see them on billboards,

television, or magazine covers.

People stare as they go by.

Children are often frightened.

They stick out with their award gaits,

guttural noises, drool,

inappropriate comments or touching,

deformities.

In many ways they’re the same as the general public,

with their need to feel loved, useful, and respected.

 In many ways they surpass the rest of us

with their smiles, hugs, unique way of looking at things.

In the camp of folks with developmental disabilities,

are some of the sweetest, most admirable, people I know. 

Day 24 Creative Bloomings camp outdoors in the rain

Rafting

It rained while we rafted

Pattering through the leaves

Clouds covered hot sunrays

White waters carried us

Cool wind caressed my face

It rained while we rafted

As guides shouted orders

Our captain made his calls

We squealed, laughed and hollered

And avoided the falls

It rained while we rafted

While we worked as a team

We aimed to stay the course

At times we succeeded

But sometimes met with force

It rained while we rafted

We were wet anyway

Water splashed as we’d spin

And sprayed from the boulders

At times we tumbled in 

Day 23 Creative Bloomings camp Nearby day trip

Hiking to Bear Falls Near Telluride, Colorado

Bright crisp morning beckons.

Golden aspens rattle their song.

Brilliant blue sky welcomes us.

Towering pines tremble.

Magnificent mountains demand admiration.

Busy river rushes by.

Cairns mark the path.

Boulders begrudgingly allow us to pass.

Cheery trekkers greet us.

Rabbits and squirrels dash off.

Deer and elk hide.

Tall falls spritz icy spray,

while we lunch.

Sun bids farewell.

Muscles breathe a sigh of relief.

Day 22 Creative Bloomings camp romance

Campfire Romance

To the tune

of peep frogs and crickets,

Kumbaya and acoustic tones by the fire,

your eyes flickered,

reflecting the flame of my heart.

When we go our separate ways

will the fire fade

to glowing embers

and then finally snuff out,

dead and cold?

Day 21 Creative Bloomings camp wordle

Family Vacation

We’ll all explore the great outdoors,

Escape this urban jail.

No bargain hunting at the mall.

We’ll hike the lakeside trail.

Yes, we’ll beware, of the black bear.

We’ll watch for signs of critters there,

A howl, some scat or print.

We’ll glide along in sleek canoes.

The view’s magnificent.

Lanterns at night, to give some light.

The family will all have fun

In rivers and the lakes.

They’ll fill canteens and play and swim,

Skip stones and watch for snakes.

Nix PlayStation, this vacation.

We’ll sleep under the moon and stars,

while wind blows through our tent.

We’ll save the fee for hotel stay

Or a log home’s high rent.

The group’s retort? We choose resort!

Day 20 Creative Bloomings new camp setting

Eagle's Nest

Give me a cabin

Tucked in the cliffs

With the sound of the surf

Far below

Sea gulls give glad cries

Palms gently sway

And whisper as balmy

Winds blow

Day 19 Creative Bloomings camp creepy crawlies

The crickets sound lovely at night

Fine chorus at dimming of light

But one in my tent

Will soon make me bent

On killing that critter on sight 

Creative Bloomins camp pairs

Rain and Puddles

(a Golden Shovel poem)

The sky lets loose its bounty, so

campers dash to their tents just past three.

It’s the stormy season of the year.

Huddled in tents, the young feel old

and the old feel like children.

The sun comes out, the campers enter

the fray, splashing about in puddles, the

end of the week, the devil-may-care phase

of camping, jumping, laughing, making fun of,  

stomping, getting muddy, name-calling.

(from Child Development by Billy Collins)

Creative Bloomings camp food

Camp Food

The oatmeal will do at the craft time for paste

The omelets they serve are not known for their taste

Free protein, they said, of the bug in my stew

And raw dough won’t kill ya, you know that it's true.

I think they use coffee for fuel for the bus

The casserole meat, they refuse to discuss

Cook waves her knife when her food we keep dissing

I’m worried that the stray cat has gone missing

Day 16 Creative Blooming camp Lake

Dust Devil Does its Deed

I watched the wind whirl up the hill,

then to the lake and friend’s kayak.

And whoosh! It hit my friend until  

it turned and got me front to back.

At first, afraid we’d take a spill,

we laughed as I fished out my pack.

But other folks were unaware

of why we sat with mussed-up hair. 

Day 15 Creative Bloomings Camp Olympics

Scavenger Hunt

Get your list right here up front

For it’s time for a scavenger hunt

Video cameras to collect it all

We are going to have a ball

The entire team with a ranger

Autograph from a stranger

Team members wearing hats

Also posed with baseball bats

Taking toilet paper from the roll

Feather, flower, silver bowl

Chipmunk, rabbit, bird or deer

Calendar page from another year

Thirty-two cents worth of change

Shooting arrows on the range

Juggling rolled-up pairs of socks

Cairn made up of twenty rocks

Judges will now take a vote

Winners get to brag and gloat

Also get out of evening chores

Plus an extra helping of s’mores 

Creative Blooming camp raining

What to Do

It’s such a rainy day

We can’t go out and play

Nothing to do

We’re feeling blue

We can dance

Not a chance!

We can sing

No such thing

We can color

Like no other

We can dream

What a scheme

We can eat

Can’t be beat

We can sleep

Don’t make a peep

Oh, let’s shout

The sun is out

Day 13 Creative Blooming Camp Five Senses

Alaska Rainforest

Retired mossy logs recline

on spruce and hemlock-covered hills

amidst oceans of ferns and green leafy plants

while rivulets of water weave through stones

and pale blue sky peeks through treetops.

Whooshes of wings, patter of claws,

scrambling hooves, raven cries,

rain pattering through leaves,

whispering wind through woods

make a melody, calming the nerves.

Sweet and tart blueberries,

seriously flavored blackberries

and wholesome taste of juicy gooseberries

seem to dance across the tongue,

while we tramp through forest.

Underfoot, the uneven ground, a combination

of rocks, moss, pebbles, sticks, pine needles

trigger country memories preceding sidewalks,

while a cool breeze sweeps across my sweaty cheek,

and my pack weighs heavy on my back.

Luscious lively greenery,

earthy decaying leaves and dirt,

tangy pine needles and fragrant wild roses,

with a touch of animal feces and wet fur

quicken my spirit and energize my steps. 

Day 12 Creative Bloomings camp from photo

Treasure Hunters

A flickering torch lit the way down the narrow path.

We could not see the bottom of the chasm.

We held hands, as well as our breath.

We inched forward, ever so slowly.

Emeralds and gold glittered merely yards away.

Through the centuries, men older and wiser

than us had searched for this treasure

hidden by a band of pirates from a tropical isle.

We almost made it.

But Mom called us home for lunch.  

Day 11 Creative Blooming Camp Mix Up

Tomboy

These rough and tumble boys,

To me, are a lot more fun

They’re keen on climbing trees

They’re always on the run

I’m not big on flowers

Or chatting by the lake

And girls go on for hours

And most of them are fake

I’d rather catch a frog

Than sit and do my nails

And slosh through a bog

Than tell those shopping tales

So Mr. Counselor,

Let me give boys’ camp a whirl

I’d rather stay right here

Even though I am a girl 

Day 10 Creative Bloomings Campfire

Around the Campfire

Around the campfire, we breathe in smoky air.

The flames dance up and down, as if they have no care.

We toast marshmallows and hotdogs on long and pointed sticks,
watching orange and yellow tongues get in their fiery licks.
Then we load our flimsy plates with goodies brought to share.

We watch with fascination, from each folding chair,
twigs, paper, plastic cups meet their end right there.

It’s how we sometimes get our kicks,
around the campfire.

And when red embers glow, we dare
tell scary stories or sing with flair.
With words and melodies we transfix,
when gasps and laughter oddly mix,
till we have no more time to spare,
around the campfire. 

Day 9 Creative Bloomings camp leader

Two Types of Leaders

Following the leader

could be delightful or dangerous

depending on the leader,

where he’s going

or what he’s about.

It’s such a joy

when the leader is going

where you’re going

and is gracious enough

to bring out the best in you

as he helps you to help him

reach the desired goal.

But a demanding dictator

headed the opposite direction you desire

is a tragedy

as deeply sorrowful

as a Shakespearean play. 

Creative Bloomings Camp Camp?

Complaining Camp

Here is the place to go

When life’s too fast

And service slow

The drinks too hot

The food too cold

The campers shy

The help too bold

The weather’s bad

When stuff’s too tough to take

This is the place to belly ache                              

The soup is thick

The steak’s too tough

The bread’s a brick

The butter runny

The gravy’s thin

No dessert

Oh, you can’t win

Appetite lost

This is the place to growl and grumble

Whine, grouse, scowl and mumble

The crafts are dumb

The games are dull

You hit your thumb

You’d rather go

The beds are lumpy

There’s too much rain

Your clothes are frumpy

It’s time to leave

At criticism you’ve been a champ

But leave your complaints at the camp

Poet's Blog Tour

First of all, a big thanks to Claudette J. Young who invited me on this tour and for her warm introduction on her blog. http://www.claudettejyoung.com/2014/07/home-connie-l-peters-blog-tour-spot/

I have been writing with “Claudsy” for five or six years now on Poetic Asides and Creative Bloomings and she has greatly encouraged me in my own writing.Claudette Young’s NW Montana neighborhood near Glacier National Park helps inspire her poetry, short stories and novels. Her love for words and enthusiasm for life pours out of her writing. Like me, she has multiple projects. This summer she’s working on a sci-fi novella “A Grain of Truth.” She’s also working on a fantasy series, a poetry chapbook and a flash fiction chapbook.

Claudette began writing seriously in 2008 and continues to write in multiple genres.  She strives to learn something new each day—a new poetry form, new writing technique, new foreign word, or whatever strikes her fancy. Her primary genres are poetry, science fiction/fantasy, flash fiction, children’s literature, women’s fiction, along with creative non-fiction, essay, and memoir. She tries to cover all of her bases by writing for audiences that range from young children to senior citizens.

Claudette has been published in numerous online publications for poetry, fiction, and non-fiction, as well as print magazines and two international poetry anthologies. She continues to hone her craft by working on multiple projects, including book-length ones. Her regular work can be viewed on her collaborative website and blogs at: http://2voices1song.com/ as well as www.claudettejyoung.com/

So, now on to the blog tour questions.

What am I working on?

Lately, I’ve been working on mostly small pieces. I write a poem a day. And I write five devotions a month for presidentialprayerteam.com. I also do devotional pieces for the Pagosa Sun. Occasionally I get assignments from Barbour Publishing. And I put together a short newsletter “ Scribette” for SCWA (Southwest Christian Writers Association) and a column for SCWA’s Ezine “The Scribe.” See SCWA’s website at southwestchristianwriters.org. 

I also have about fifteen novels in progress. Currently I’m trying to finish, really finish, my junior novel Quirks. I plan to publish it on Create Space. It’s my goal to finish and publish three other works this year: The State I’m In (an adult novel), Enthusiastic Soul (a book of praise poems) and Tea at the Zoo ( a picture book). A professional artist friend of mine, Annette Hutchins, is illustrating.

How does my work differ from others in the same genre?

On Robert Brewer’s Poetic Asides, it’s amazing how many completely different poems come from the same prompt. So I can only say my writings are different from others because I write them. Writing is an extension of personality, and like snowflakes and fingerprints, they’re all different. My writing is somewhat fun and serious at the same time. I love the Lord and this comes out in a lot of my poems. But I like to write about the daily stuff, too. My fiction is most always about God’s love and goodness.

Why do I write what I do?

In today’s media there’s a smorgasbord of offerings, a wide range from healthy and nutritious to seriously rancid. I hope to offer something to the reader that’s enjoyable, will help them grow and give them strength for the journey.  

I believe God is real. He’s proved Himself to me over and over. He’s good, loving and forgiving. My beliefs boil down to two verses: Matthew 22:37-40 and John 3:16. Despite my weaknesses and imperfections, I pray that somehow people will experience Him in my poems, stories and devotions.

How does my writing process work?

Describing my writing process is a little difficult because for me variety is the spice of life. But I’m a firm believer in free writing. I try to get the rough draft down as quickly as possible. Over the years, I've been outlining less and less.

Then I go back and revise. I eternally revise the longer projects, so that’s why the last few years I’ve been doing smaller projects. At least I can get them done!

I’m always regrouping my projects and schedule. With my host home of taking care of two adults with developmental disabilities, keeping my house clean enough to be healthy, a flood of writing projects and a few trips throughout the year, I have a variety of ways to trick myself into getting things done.

Three other poets will follow me as soon as I get them lined up.

Thanks again to Claudsy. Following are some links to other poets who have been on the tour.

http://whenthepenbleeds.blogspot.ca/?zx=d36f092f50b54848

http://goldenessencelovesevolution.blogspot.com.es/2014/06/virtual-blog-tour-another-leg-of.html?spref=fb

http://www.claudettejyoung.com/2014/06/home-virtual-blog-tour-writing-process/

http://lkharris-kolp.blogspot.com.es/

http://lind-guistics.blogspot.com.es/

http://whenwordsescape.wordpress.com/

                                                       

Day 7 Poetic Bloomings camp prank

Annoying Amy had the jitters

About all the woodland critters

I howled at the moon

She ran away soon

Unaware of my guffaws and titters 

Poetic Bloomings Camp Hello Maddah

From Camp Critter

We call bathrooms “bat”rooms because they’re often hanging there,

and Camp Ritter “Camp Critter” for the raccoons, bugs and bears.

I’m tired of leaky tents and the mud from when it rains.

The onslaught of horseflies is doing something to our brains.

The fish smell nauseates me when we swim in that cold lake.

And the credentials of the counselors surely must be fake.

Cooking breakfast consumes hours and then it’s time for lunch.

My air mattress has gone flat with my blankets in a bunch.

I’m fearful for our lives, when in the woods we roam,

but with all the fun we’re having, I’m not ready to go home.

Day 5 Poetic Bloomings Camp sounds

Forest Alarm Clock

Lying in my tent,

I woke up in the early morning

hearing a strange sound—

something like shaking a can of spray paint,

when the metal ball rattles around inside.

Who would be painting anything just past dawn

amongst tall timber by a mountain lake?

Carefully I undid the ties

and looked out the screen window.

Two gray squirrels chased each other in the trees.

They seemed to be enjoying themselves,

as much as I enjoyed watching them scampering about,

their claws on the bark making the noise.

Who would have thought it sounded like that? 

Day 4 Poetic Bloomings night lights

That’s Progress

In our country neighborhood

streetlights appeared one by one,

so gradually, we didn’t realize

they blocked the stars

until we hiked up in the hills

and there they were pulsing white

in a  black, black sky. 

Dau 3 Poetic Bloomings Summer Camp Music

When He Saw Me in September

I wish I would have remembered

the sad crooner of See You in September,

“Will I see you in September

Or lose you to a summer love?”

He drove me to the airport.

Said goodbye with a lingering kiss.

I cried when I arrived at my sister’s.

Before the day was over I was missing him.

Thoughts of kissing him.

Would I make it through the summer?

But adventure called

and then young lovers.

I was soon entangled

by summer fun

and love,

choosing that one special one.

When I saw him in September,

he knew

he lost me

to a summer love.

From “See You in September”, words by Wayne and Edwards, sung by the Tempos

Day 2 PB camp Bop, exploring camp, Poetic Asides new place

At Girl Scout Camp

At Girl Scout camp, I explored our new place,

not leaky tents this time, but bunk-filled dorm rooms.

I chose the top of the last bunk in the corner

and unrolled my bed roll with essentials tucked inside.

I neatly arranged the items at the foot of my bed,

and hid my novel under my pillow

In free time, I sought a solitary place.

The clamor of girls giggling, chattering, singing

and leaders shouting orders and blasting whistles

seemed incongruous with whispering pines

gurgling creeks and chirping of birds and crickets.

A bridge over the creek harbored a nice cubby hole;

between games, working on badges, gathering wood,

singing silly songs, and munching on S’mores,

I’d hide away there with my book.

In free time, I sought a solitary place.

I enjoyed laughing and talking with my friends,

searching for tinder, kindling and fuelwood,

roasting hotdogs and marshmallows over the fire,

making sit-upons and singing songs like

Make New Friends, Camp Granada, Kumbaya,

and I Don’t Want No More of this Camping Life, but

in free time, I sought a solitary place.

Poetic Bloomings Camp Day One

Up at the Bus                                                                                                    

Up at the bus, for a week-end stay

Are we there yet? We five would say

A retired school bus instead of a tent

In that old thing, many hours were spent

Five little girls full of fun and play

Dad would go fishing, it was his way

Mom would clean and cook throughout the day

We’d play pretend, that’s how it went

Up at the bus

Slept in bunk beds that would creak and sway

Ate at a fold out table or a metal tray

Kerosene heaters and lamps gave acrid scent

Stored water in milk cans, silver and dent

To a rustic outhouse, visit’s we’d pay

Often to the woods we’d stray, up at the bus.