All posts by loisgpowell20@gmail.com

EXPECT THE UNIVERSE TO SUPPORT YOUR DREAM. IT WILL

“LIVING IS A FORM OF NOT BEING SURE, NOT KNOWING WHAT’S NEXT, OR HOW. THE MOMENT YOU KNOW, YOU BEGIN TO DIE A LITTLE. THE ARTIST NEVER ENTIRELY KNOWS. WE GUESS. WE MAY BE WRONG, BUT WE TAKE LEAP AFTER LEAP IN THE DARK.  AGNES DE MILLE

OUR PROMPT:  A BLACK AND WHITE PHOTO

I looked at all the photographs that Mom had kept in the albums. The names of the people and dates were under them. I loved them all. Even though there were many photographs, I had my favorite.

They were standing on the beach. Dad had his arm around Mom and her hand was on his arm. One of Mom’s legs was crossed in front of the other. They had beautiful smiles on their faces. What I loved about the picture was the way they leaned into one another. It made me feel as though a magnet was pulling them into one another. They were not just standing on the beach next to one another, they were cuddling while standing there. Since it was at the beach my imagination helped me hear the water splashing upon the sand. The wind must have been blowing because Mom’s hair appeared to be fluttering in the air. Dad’s mustache was perfectly trimmed. Since it was a black and white photograph I could only guess about the color of their bathing suits.  Mom’s bathing suit had stripes, so I decided to make it red and white and Dad’s aqua blue. Their feet were bare but Mom’s toenails were polished and so were her nails.

The partial frown on their faces told me the sun was glaring in their eyes. There were a few people lying on blankets in the background with open umbrellas.Oh yes! There stood my Dad and Mom so young and in love in my favorite black and white photograph. How I love it.

What Are You Waiting For?

“A habit is the link between inspiration and self-realization.”  Gail Sher

Dear God, Jesus Christ,

I’m sitting in my sun room reading my pages and seeing and realizing that I’m the biggest do nothing person I’ve ever met. Have you ever felt that way? You know you want to do something but you don’t because you’re afraid and don’t have the guts to do  it. I look at all the positive help that’s been sent my way by You and I’m still sitting on my ass not accomplishing not even one of my goals.  How do I stand the sight of me. The sound of my voice. The prayers I keep sending up to You. I can’t stand me at all. I’m thinking about all these people who are making it in their chosen profession. Jerry Seinfield wanted to be a comedian. He believed he could do it so he set goals for himself.  And step by step he did it. He’s now a well known comedian giving other comedians advice because they want to be like him. I watched Billy Crystal yesterday and he too wanted to be a comedian. His wife believed in him but that was only part of what made him a success. He stepped out and took the chance and he kept stepping out and look at him now. People will pay any price to see him and Jerry Seinfield. They’re not only comedians but they’re actors also.

I read about writers all the time who wanted to write but were afraid at first. But they stepped out one step at a time and kept stepping out and now they are successful writers. No matter how much someone else believes in you, you must first and foremost believe in yourself. Do you really want to be _____________. Fill in the blank. If you really want to be _____________ then what can you do to get there? Yes, you step out one step at a time. People can give you all kinds of advice, ideas, how to’s or not how to’s but until you decide within yourself that yes, I really want to do this it doesn’t matter. Until I say, I want to do this for me not for anyone else it’s not going to happen. You can read all the motivating books you want but until you take that first step and then the next step, it ain’t going to happen.

I listened to Joyce Meyer. She told friends that God called her to preach His word. Her friends looked at her like she was insane. But was she? She talks about how she and her husband, Dave, started one small step at a time. Step by step. Inch by inch. And as Anne Lamont says over and over, Bird by Bird. Our son, Diallo, now has his own business and doing great. How is that possible? Because he did it step by step. Our son, Kimani, is now a CPA. How did that happen? Step by step. Our daughter, Anna, now has her first published book. How did that happen? Step by step.

So, you want to be a big money making author. You can come up with all kinds of excuses as to why you’re not even anywhere near that. But here’s the question. Are you ready for the question? If you really want to be a well paid author, why aren’t you doing it step by step? Don’t you dare say you’re afraid. Don’t you dare say you have no ideas. Don’t you dare say you have no time. Don’t you dare say you have no support. Don’t you dare say you need a  place to write. Don’t you dare say the house is too noisy. Don’t you dare say the kids are in the way. Don’t you dare say any excuse at all. Don’t you dare look for any excuse. Yes, we can always find an excuse. There are more excuses then we can even put on paper. So, here’s the deal. You sit down and write out all the excuses you can possibly think of.  All of them even if they don’t apply to you. Write it anyway. Now take those excuses and post them on your bedroom wall, your bathroom mirror, your computer, your dresser, your TV screen, your windows, your kitchen cabinets, and any place else you can think of. Yep, post them for you to see wherever you go in your home, on your job, your car, or whatever.

Now that you’ve done that find yourself a calendar that has the whole year on one page. Then each day when you read your excuses mark it on the calendar. Every day mark it with an X or O or whatever mark you want. After you mark your calendar, sit down and write about the excuse you used as to why you couldn’t write that day. It doesn’t have to be long. Write it in a notebook. Be sure to write the month, day, and year. Write it by hand not on the computer so you can feel the excuse pouring out of you. It must be written by hand only. Do this for an entire month. Yes, an entire month. After the month keep doing it only this time when you sit down to write your excuse start writing about the story that’s been floating in your head. But only one page no more then one page then stop. After a month keep it up with the excuses and write two pages of the story floating in your head. Continue until six (6) months have passed, adding another page or more if you want. Now go back and read everything you have written. I’m willing to bet that by going step by step you’re on your way to writing that story, be it short or long, fiction or non-fiction. Have a good time writing those excuses  and your story. I’m also willing to bet that your story will win over those excuses.

Here’s to your success.  STEP BY STEP.

HOME IS WHERE YOUR STORY BEGINS

“WRITING IS LIKE DRIVING A CAR AT NIGHT. YOU NEVER SEE FURTHER THEN YOUR HEADLIGHTS, BUT YOU CAN MAKE THE WHOLE TRIP THAT WAY.”  E.L. DOCTOROW

WALLS THE COLOR OF TEARS

Should I paint the walls a different color? But what color? Does it matter? Will it help to disguise all that they’ve seen? Will it help to make my insides feel better? Will it hide all the blows on my body, my back, buttocks, arms, and face? His powerful fists as they hit the walls when I was quick enough to duck or run. But he would catch me. He would always catch me. All my screams and tears were in these walls. All the plates, the ash trays, figurines I threw at these walls to save myself.

I thought we loved each other. How do you hurt someone that brutally whom you say you love. Is our love making after the fights on these walls? I would protest and pull away but he would cry and hold me pressed against these walls. I knew he was sorry and I would cave in because I did love him so. I loved the way he made love to me. The feel of his hands on my body, caressing me.  He knew my special spots and when he touched them he would electrify me. He said I was the only one for him. Even with all the beatings, he was the only one for me.

Then the final night came. I couldn’t take it anymore. He had me against the wall and I cried loud, hard, vinegar tears. They were no longer sweet, loving, and forgiving. He knew in that instant I had changed inside. He stopped and looked. He knew I could no longer forgive. He watched me change. I watched him change. We heard cries from the wall. The  walls were damaged just as we were damaged, beyond repair this time.

I felt the wetness on the walls. We turned and saw the tears. That’s when it was the last time. That’s when I was left alone never to feel those hands anymore in violence or love making. Can paint disguise the hurt, the pain, the tears? Has such a color been made?

 

DO IT IN SPITE OF THE FEAR. LET GO OF ALL FEAR.

“YOU HAVE TO WRITE MILLIONS OF WORDS NO ONE IS EVER GOING TO SEE BEFORE YOU CAN WRITE THE ONES THAT WILL CHANGE SOMEONE’S LIFE.”  Joe Bunting – The Write Practice.

“SAYING GOODBYE”

The wind was whipping around our faces as we stood facing one another. I kept  pushing my hair out of my eyes and my mouth. He didn’t have that problem. His hair was short. The air was chilly and our noses were red. We kept looking at the people around us, rushing to catch their train. Running to meet someone. Dragging a suitcase on wheels behind them. We kept looking around because we didn’t want to look at one another. Then we heard it. The loud train whistle telling us that it was finally here. Still we didn’t speak but we did look at one another.

I dropped my head. He put his hand on my chin and lifted my face so he could look at me. I wanted to hide my tears but it was too late. The train stopped in back of him. He turned to look at it.  “Wouldn’t you know, it was on time this time.” Suddenly he grabbed me to his chest and we hugged as if we were dogs who refused to give up our bone. I sobbed softly into his chest. He held me tighter.

“All aboard,” shouted the ticket man.

My tears turned to hiccups. I couldn’t stop the sobs or the hiccups. He wiped my tears away with his thumb. He lowered his lips to mine. The kiss was tender yet so moving. I almost couldn’t breathe. It was over too soon. We dropped our arms looking at one another. He bent to grab the handle of his suitcase and moved toward the door of the train. I didn’t move. I just watched him go. He lifted his suitcase onto the train.

“I’ll call as soon as I get there.”

He smiled and waved. I tried to smile. I nodded my head and waved.

Then he was gone.

 

 

DON’T EDIT, WRITE.

WRITING IS EASY. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS CROSS OUT THE WRONG WORDS.    MARK TWAIN

WRITE ABOUT SOMETHING SILVER

Yes, silver. I know many believe that gold is the ideal metal. Oh, what a beautiful gold necklace. Oh, I love your gold earrings. GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!

But I love silver. It’s cool looking resembling a shimmering piece of ice on a cold winter day. When the sun gleams on a silver bracelet it reflects the colors of the rainbow. Yes, I love silver. My engagement ring was white gold. It was the color of silver. To me it was the most beautifully, artistically designed ring I had ever seen. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. The base of the ring appeared as though someone had taken strands of silver and twisted them. Not tight just enough so the the light could glow through the twisted strands. Atop of the strands sat the most expertly cut diamond. The light reflecting on it made it glow like a prism. When the ring was placed on my finger by my future husband, the diamond seemed to be floating. The light shimmering through the twisted silver strands and bouncing off the diamond made it become a winter wonderland’s most precious snowflake. Oh, what a breath taking sight.

Now it’s your turn to make us dream about your most enchanting piece of silver whether it’s jewelry or something else.

STAY FOCUSED

“There is a risk you cannot afford to take, and there is the risk you cannot afford not to take.”  Peter Drucker

“WHEN SHE LOOKED UP”

Sarah was in tensed. She was on her knees pulling weeds out of her vegetable garden. “I love eating fresh vegetables. There’s no taste that can compare but I hate all the work it takes to get to and enjoy that taste. It would be so much easier time wise if I didn’t work such crazy hours and the weather was better.”

It had rained for three days straight. She had to wait for the water to drain before she could work in the garden. I don’t know how farmers do this for a living. While digging and pulling up weeds, Sarah suddenly felt a strong breeze on her neck. She tried to ignore it but couldn’t. It was not like a windy breeze. It was like a steady breeze as if someone was breathing on her neck. She looked up and looked into the eyes of a huge dog standing next to her. She was a beautiful cocoa color with a big white spot between the eyes. The dog didn’t move. It just stared at her.

Should she scream? Should she push it away? Should she jump up and try to run away? Sarah thought all of those things at once but couldn’t move. She decided to pet the dog since it was just standing there and it still hadn’t moved.

“Nice doggy,” she said as she petted the top of its head. That’s when it did move. It came closer and with a huge tongue licked her right up the middle of her face from chin to forehead. She was so surprised that she fell backward. Now the dog was standing over her and licking her face again. She lifted her hand to cover her face to keep the dog from licking it again. When she did that the dog growled showing its teeth so she quickly took her hand away. Now what was she going to do? When she moved the dog growled. When she stayed still he licked her face.

“Here King! Where are you? Here King?”

The dog turned around in the direction of the voice and began to bark.

“Go King, go!” Sarah said. But it didn’t move.

Suddenly she heard footsteps. “Here he is,” Sarah yelled. “Over here!”

The steps came closer. Then a pair of brown hiking boots were standing next to her. A hand grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled it back off of her.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over him. He suddenly took off and I don’t know why. Did he hurt you? Are you all right? I apologize again. He’s a hunting dog and for some reason he must have thought we were going hunting.”

Sarah reached out her hand so that he could help her up. He had dark brown eyes that seemed to smile at her. He was about 3″ taller than her and quite good looking. She brushed off her clothes and straightened her ponytail.

“Well, he scared me but he didn’t hurt me. He just kept licking my face. When I put my arm up to cover my face, he growled at me.”

“Yea, he thought you were trying to get away. I’m glad he licked you and didn’t bite you. My name’s Alex and we just moved in up the street about a week ago. Again, I apologize.”

“I accept your apology especially since I wasn’t hurt. My name’s Sarah and welcome to the neighborhood.”

 

 

PLACES TO PRACTICE WRITING: HOME, DINERS, DELIS, COFFEE SHOPS, LUNCH COUNTERS, LIBRARIES.

“DON’T JUST PLAN TO WRITE – WRITE. IT IS ONLY BY WRITING, NOT DREAMING ABOUT IT, THAT WE DEVELOP OUR OWN STYLE.”  P.D. JAMES

OUR  PROMPT:  SOMETHING THAT YOU SAVED

Even the neatest of us save. It’s hard not to. There is always at least one thing that we can’t give up, can’t let go. We move it from one place to another when we move or we keep it in that special place with the hopes that no one will find it, touch it, or take it. I have something that I saved. I’ve held it so close to me that whenever I need to be lifted up I visualize it. I keep it in a special place so that I can always have it. I know where it is at all times. No matter where I go I know it’s with me. It can never be replaced no matter how many others I may see that are similar there will never be another one like this one. It’s always warm and soft. It always shows how much I’m loved and cared for. I can’t imagine being without it. I can’t imagine it not being there. I can carry it in my mind but mostly I carry it in my heart. It was always there when I needed it and it will always be there because I need it more now then ever. I am so blessed that I had it and will continue to carry it with me. I love it so much. It warms my heart and my soul. What can this be that can do all of this? What can it be that is always with me? It can only be one thing. MY MOTHER’S SMILE.

Yes, sit down and give the prompt some thought. I’m willing to bet that you do have something special that you saved. Tell us about it.

SHOW UP TO THE PAGE

What I am actually saying is that we need to be willing to let our intuition guide us, and then be willing to follow the guidance directly and fearlessly.  SHAKTI  GAWAIN

I apologize for missing Tuesday’s Post. I was away visiting our grand children. It was Hannah’s fifth birthday. We had a great time but it left me no time to write my post.

THE PROMPT:  “The Woman In The Window”

She sits by the window watching the children playing in the street in front of her house.  She loves watching the children.  It reminds her of when her children were young and feisty.  Then all too soon they were grown with children of their own.  Oh how she loves her grand children.  They were so much fun, laughing, joking, and loving their grandma. Now they’re grown and living their adult life.  But they still come to visit grandma.  So, she sits at the window and watches the children play.  While she does she reminiscences and waits for those fun loving, beautiful grand children to visit.

I am hoping that you’ll try your writing talent with this prompt. If you do, please leave me a comment. I look forward to reading it.

You Are An Original. Hallelujah!!!!!

The first week has passed and I’m ready to post another prompt. I thank my friends who left a comment for me. They were exciting to read.

I hope that you will try to write this prompt. It may help to keep the creative juices flowing. It may also  keep the blank page at an arms distance.

Since you are like no other being ever created since the beginning of time, you are incomparable.   Brenda Ueland

PROMPT:  SHE LEFT A NOTE.

I woke with a start. Suddenly I felt cold. Grabbing the corners of the blanket, I pulled them up to my neck. I reached for Dora. Her side was cold. I turned and saw that her side was empty. I rose up on my elbows and looked around the room. She was not there. I got a chilling feeling through my body. I swung my feet to the floor and slid into my slippers. I grabbed my bathrobe at the foot of the bed and while putting it on headed for the bedroom door. The house was too quiet and that chill eased up my back. I looked in the bathroom, no Dora. I looked in my office and her office as I made my way down the hallway toward the stairs. I didn’t call her name because for whatever reason I felt I wouldn’t get an answer.

As I descended the stairs I could hear my heart thumping in my ears. I couldn’t explain why I had this feeling of fear but I did. As I placed my foot on the hardwood floor at the bottom of the stairs and was turning right, my eye saw something out of the corner of my eye. I slowly turned my head to look straight ahead. On the table in the hallway of our entrance laid a white envelope. I walked toward the table. Before I even picked up the envelope my hands started to tremble. I felt the panic rising from my stomach to join the thumping in my ears.

On the front of the envelope written in Dora’s unique handwriting was my name, Marshall. Under my name it read, You will always be special to me.

 

Discipline?

I’ve decided that my Blog will be written with Prompts. At least for now. Prompts are a great way to get yourself writing when you don’t know what to write. It beats stirring at the blank page.  Why not give it a try?

COMPOSE  WITH  UTTER  FREEDOM  AND  EDIT  WITH  UTTER  DISCIPLINE.  –  Erica Jong

PROMPT –  Write About the Passing of Hours

It’s raining, cold, foggy. I sit on my rocker in the sun room watching the rain fall.  There is much to do.  There is  always much to do.  I look at my watch but can’t focus on the time.  In the distance I can hear the Grandfather clock ticking, ticking, ticking in the hallway.  It’s a soothing experience.  The rain almost hypnotizes me but I’m still awake hearing the tap, tap, tap on the skylight and the roof.  I rock to no where but yet am I really here?

The rocking adds to the hypnotizing.  It feels soothing.  It brings comfort to my soul.  My feet swish back and forth, back and forth, back and forth across the floor adding to the rhythm. My hands rest on the arms  of the rocker.  My head is back against the pillow.  Back and Forth.  Back and Forth.  Back and Forth. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.  Drip. Drip. Drip. I am soothed. I am hypnotized.  And time passes on.