April PAD challenge

Cheerfulness

Most people have forgotten

cheerfulness is a good thing.

They may call people who

look on the bright side

a Pollyanna, a hopeless romantic

or an unrealistic idealist.

It may even be fun to complain,

criticize, or grumble about this or that.

Tiny raindrops wear down a stone.

Lemon without sugar sours the cake.

A sunny smile can encourage

a despairing heart.

from april pad challenge

Prayer for a Good Attitude

Lord, help me have a better attitude.

I want to offer thanksgiving and praise

and never complain, mutiny or brood.

Let me advance to a positive phase.

I want to offer thanksgiving and praise.

You are holy and worthy, Mighty One.

Let me advance to a positive phase,

by Your Spirit in the name of Your Son.

You are holy and worthy, Mighty One.

May I not slight You with doubts and complaints,

by Your Spirit in the name of Your Son.

Fear, panic and worry are faith’s restraints.

May I not slight You with doubts and complaints.

Trust releases me to receive Your grace.

Fear, panic and worry are faith’s restraints.

Faith enables me to look on Your face.

Trust releases me to receive You grace,

to avoid depression, gloom and despair.

Faith enables me to look on Your face,

to smile and take heart in Your loving care.

To avoid depression, gloom and despair,

Lord, help me have a better attitude,

to smile and take heart in Your loving care

and never complain, mutiny or brood.

from April PAD challenge

Pessimist

Gloomy, negative

Whining, worrying, doubting

Fears, complaints, praise, thanksgiving

Planning, hoping, believing

Bright, positive

Optimist 

PA industry CB Puente

Ant Hill

(a Puente)

Like little ants scurrying

here and there

trying to carry

more that we can bear,

we follow sugar trails

of our own desires

until our industriousness

becomes its own burden.

~ then we burrow in the ground

in holes dark and deep,

following labyrinths,

feeling part

of a bustling community,

until we lose sight

of the sunny world

and go to sleep, believing

there’s something more.

from April pad

Variegated

My hands tremble as

lightning flashes and

rain drizzles outside

on the once-dry

lumber, making a fire

hard to come by. I feel

the vibration of thunder

and I wonder at

life’s intricacies.

In the darkness and clouds,

the downpour denies

the image of dreariness

and depression

as it waters the earth

and makes redwoods grow.

If we had no storms

our days would be

monotonous.

Maybe a happy boredom

 would be delightful,

but no, not for me.

Sunshine and shower.

Roses and thorns.

Clamorous and melodious

music sets couples dressed

in satinwear dancing

to jives and waltzes. 

From April PAD Challenge

 ABC’s of Writing

A void passive verbs.

B e succinct.

C liche’s are old hat.

D on’t use two spaces between sentences.

E xamples should be specific.

F ind the funny.

G et a second pair of eyes to critique your work.

H ang out with other writers.

I nterview people in the know.

J ust keep writing, writing, writing.

K eep your project to yourself until the rough draft is complete.

L iteral is the strict definition of a word or phrase, not figurative. Don’t take “G” literally.

M isspelled words speak of your incompetence.

N ever say never or always, or at least, almost never say never or always.

O bserve the world using all of your senses.

P lease, respect your readers’ time.

Q uerying editors can prevent unpublished manuscripts.

R esearch, using primary resources when possible.

S how don’t tell.

T oo many adjectives is like a cake that’s too rich.

U se adverbs sparingly.

V ery, so, really, just, interesting, got (among others) should seldom be used.

W rite what you know.

X ylophone starts with a Z sound. Writers have been confusing early readers for years.

Y ou are a writer if you write. Improve your skills by studying and practicing the craft.

Z ero in on your project: complete rough draft, revise and submit.

Creative Blooming memories of a room

My Room

With four sisters, it wasn’t until

I was a high school junior

when I finally got a room of my own.

It was bout 10 x 12 with one window

shaded by a choke cherry tree

occasionally attacked by a woodpecker.

I painted the walls bright orange

with brown trim. No rugs

covered the rough wooden floor.

At night I had to pound on the walls

to keep the chipmunks quiet.

My friends thought that hilarious.

A single clothing rack

tucked behind the door

held my few hang-up clothes.

The room also housed a dresser

a book shelf, bunk beds

and two corner shelves.

The shelves held my

teapot and vase collection

and incense burner.

One wall featured an antique mirror,

big, but not full-length, another

displayed pennants from my travels.

I slept on the top bunk,

though no one slept on the bottom.

The radio, within reach, played rock music.

In various places, I hid my diary

(mostly about my boyfriend)

but my little sister always found it.

When my daughter, at sixteen,  

resembled me, my sister said  

she had sudden urges to steal her diary.

Through the thin walls, 

I listened to my parents worry about me,

and found it strangely comforting.