Log in

Slake - to allay thirst, desire, wrath, etc. by satisfying.

This and That

Journal Info




April 30th, 2009

Poem in Your Pocket Contest

I am impressed with the poems that were received.  One entry is from the Czech Republic.  I hope to make this contest a yearly event and that it grows each year.  Winners will be announced May 8Thanks to all who participated and good luck. We have three judges for the contest and prizes awarded are:1st place  $25.00 Visa gift card. 2nd Place $15.00 gift card, and 3rd Place $10.00 gift card.

A Speech By A Bookworm  #1

We're very dumb and cannot read.

The paper in books is what we need.

Store your books on a damp basement floor

or outside during a heavy downpour.

Never donate books or sell them to a store.

Dry books on shelves we never adore.

Words on disks or tape is always a curse,

but E-Book readers are even worse.

Magnetic particles or circuit chips are never the best,

as these weird materials we can't digest

Snowflakes  #2

Snowflakes drift down

in a white array of glee.

It is entertaining you;

It is entertaining me.

As we enjoy the winter's fun

skiing, or skating galore.

Others are sitting by the fireplace,

drinking cocoa and eating s'mores.

It was two day after
It came It took his bread
It was small and beauti-loss
When he won one shielder
And touch it through Austria

Shampoo #4
I like the spread of you
My shampoo on my hands
Your team You win He says
Experiment as they do
Love to shampoo - commonless

Dream Escape #5
I’ve dreamed a dream for many nights
that fills me full of fear
a subtle spell is woven well,
a wish that I hold dear.
It is but all within my grasp
and I reach further still
But sleep eludes as day intrudes
I wake, against my will.

Words #6


torn to shreds like paper

and torched just the same.



taught in classroom filled with little kids

with pencils and paper and dreams.



are only words without an eraser


like a dagger,

is only a dagger without regret.

Counting Time #7
Minute goes by minute
-- tiny minute fractions
of the day by long slow day
I scratch off my calendar.

Why does working speed by
so much faster
than not enough work
but so much slower
than no work at all?



April 9th, 2009

Entries for "Poems in Your Pocket" are rolling in and I am excited. 

I also have an update on the prizes.  There will be Visa Gift Cards,  $25.00  for 1st place, $15.00 for second place and $10.00 for third place.     I didn't want to do Amazon because I believe in supporting your local bookstore, however you can spend the gift cards on anything you desire.  

Keep the entries coming and good luck...  And in case you forgot here are the particulars...

In honor of "Poem in Your Pocket Day" I would like you to submit a poem no longer than 10 lines to me at novelistatwildbluedotnet with the words Pocket Poem in subject line.

Put the title of the poem in the body of email above the poem. Please do not send attachments.
Deadline is April 28th and poems will be posted on April 30th without names and winners will be announced on May 8. Prizes will be awarded for 1, 2, and 3 place.

Poems must be G rated... no erotica or X-Rated Poems.

Now stop reading and get on with writing your poem

April 3rd, 2009

April is National Poetry Month and April 30, 2009 is the second annual "Poem in Your Pocket Day."
The idea is simple: select a poem you love during National Poetry Month then carry it with you to share with co-workers, family, and friends on April 30, 2009.

In honor of "Poem in Your Pocket Day" I would like you to submit a poem no longer than 10 lines to me at novelistatwildbluedotnet with the words Pocket Poem in subject line.

Put the title of the poem in the body of email above the poem. Please do not send attachments.
Deadline is April 28th and poems will be posted on April 30th without names and winners will be announced on May 8. Prizes will be awarded for 1, 2, and 3 place.

Poems must be G rated... no erotica or X-Rated Poems.

Now stop reading and get on with writing your poem..

February 23rd, 2009

 I won 1st place in short story contest in Haunted Love category for Love Everlasting. at Raphael's Village.  My pen name is Joyce Williams. You can read the story here

February 20th, 2009

The Queen of Say So


Looking back over my childhood, I realize I had the perfect mother for the fifties. There was no way of her or I knowing that the following decade would bring the sexual revolution, women’s liberation, and the culture of doing your own thing. Not that my mother was perfect, no mother is except the TV moms of that era, Donna Reed, Jane Wyatt, and June Cleaver.  


 My mom had nothing in common with them, except she wore spiked heels like June Cleaver. June. Cleaver wore the high heels daily, to appear taller as Wally and the Beaver grew. My mother wore spiked heels because she had great legs and she was not shy about them. Mom also had a different air about her than other women of the era. She carried herself as if she had the Crown and Title to “Queen of Say So.”

Read more...Collapse )

February 7th, 2009


It's hard not to let a cliche slip into your writing, they sneak in when you least expect it.  There are so many cliches they are hard to escape.  One night just for fun our family took turns listing cliches that contained animals.  We were amazed at how many we found.  Here are just a few. Can you name any?
  • Blind as a bat
  • Hungry as a bear.
  • Dog days of summer
  • Quiet as a mouse
  • Bull in a china shop
  • Sly as a fox
  • Healthy as an ox
  • Living in a fishbowl
  • Cats have nine lives
  • Roar like a lion
  • A bird in the hand is worth two in a bush
  • Rat race
  • bird brain
Okay you get the idea... you name some...

February 2nd, 2009


I hate you.
Hate mixed with vengeance
that erodes
my Christian values

Each day I strive
to find a  quality
that redeems you, 
but meet with failure.

I seek warmth
and there is none.
Only chill and iciness
mixed with threats.

I'm tired of your
demanding chores.
I don't want to do
them any more.

Where is your warmth?
Do you have any?
Or are you destined
to be cold and harsh?

I want you
to go away.
Far from me.
I hate you winter.

January 7th, 2009


    Ethan Reueken is haunting me or I am having delusions of a psychiatric kind. Our last conversation occurred over twenty years ago, it was brief yet long enough for me to realize Ethan would forever be an unpaid tenant of my heart. Of course, there were times when I was sure any remnant of feelings for him were gone, then I discovered that I fooled myself... like when I married Peter.  

    I started dating Peter a year or so after Ethan. Peter was the nephew of a family friend and in the military. He was different from anyone I had dated, especially Ethan.  When Peter asked me to marry him, I said yes. We married a year and half later in Hawaii. Peter returned to Viet Nam and I returned to NJ.   I felt safe dating Peter and than marrying him.   My time was spent working the graveyard shift at the phone company and corresponding with Peter. I welcomed this time of peace, following the chaotic year of breaking up with Ethan. .

    Ethan moved to north New Jersey a year or so after our break-up.  I'd be lying to say he never entered my thoughts, but he wasn't on my mind  on a sunny February day, and a great day for a walk.  It can’t be him; it can't be Ethan standing outside the gates of my apartment.  How would he know I live here?  Has he stopped using drugs? The sight of him sent my pulse racing and caused my knees to feel like jello setting in the sun on a hot summer's day. 

    Ethan was fast to greet me with his shit eating grin and mystical eyes.  He had one blue eye and one green, so when he looked at me, It felt like he was looking at me and through me at the same time.  

    "Hi, I didn't expect to see you," Ethan stated.

    "Me neither. How are you?" my voice sounded better than I felt.

    "O.K.. Where you going? What's in the box?"  He asked with the anticipation of a six year old at Christmas.

    "Ohh to the cleaners," not mentioning what was in the box or looking at it.

    "You always carry your dirty clothes in a box?"  Ethan egged me on, and moved closer to the box, reaching out, touching it and attempting to peak into it.

    "Don‘t! It's my wedding dress."  My words brought silence, that felt like forever.

    "Yeahhh, Dan told me you were getting married.  Who is he?" Ethan asked.  Long after we broke up, Ethan would call whenever he heard I had a date. He would give me a list of reasons why I shouldn’t go out with so and so, whoever the guy was at the time.  His excuses were the usual, the guy was a jerk, or the guy was going use me, anything to keep me from dating.  Little did he know that I only dated to fill time in my calendar, my heart was shattered.  He had no reason to worry.  It was amusing and infuriating that he kept tabs on me. .

    "Peter Harris, you don’t know him.  His Aunt lived next to us on William Street."  I stated.

    Ethan's face appeared solemn at first, but soon reflected the devil in his eye and his shit eating grin.  "Ya know everyone asks me about us, how I feel about you.  I tell them it was so long ago it doesn't seem like it happened.  I don't think of you anymore. Do you ever think of me?" Ethan asked with eyes fixed on mine.

    “No,” I lied. Ethan's words sliced my soul.  I stilled loved him.  I didn’t know then,   but twenty years later I would still would.  I took a last look at him and tried to determine if he was still using.  Highly probable, but I didn't ask, my reserve of tears was about to burst.

     My mouth bided Ethan farewell, but not my heart. If I'd run into Ethan before the wedding, I never had married Peter.   Too late now, suck it up and work hard your marriage I lectured myself.  It wasn’t Peter’s fault that Ethan refused to leave my heart. Although I tried, I never developed the deep love for Peter that I felt for Ethan. Two years and one daughter later, Peter and I divorced.

    While single, I’d hoped to run into Ethan, but fate had other plans. I met Owen and we became friends.  He and I  talked for hours sharing divorce war stories.  I confessed to Owen,  it was my fault my marriage failed, and explained my love for Ethan.   I also told Owen how I've not met a man who measured up to Ethan, but was hopeful it would happen.  Perhaps Owen found this challenging, for he wooed me off my feet.

    One Sunday afternoon, Owen locked the automatic door to the hotel kitchen where we worked, shut off the circuit breakers and yelled to the staff that we had lost electricity. No one could get in or out of the kitchen. Owen made a romantic dinner and we enjoyed filet mignon, candle light, cooking wine and our first kiss. 

November 29th, 2008

Blues for Christmas..

Christmas is not merry for someone who is spending their first Christmas alone, after having a spouse or loved one sharing their holidays for years.  I hope if you know someone in this position you will pass this information on, and help them get over the feeling. 

November 14th, 2008

This used to be one of the hardest groups for me to find suitable gifts.  Over the years I came up with the following list.  Would love to hear your suggestions also. Gifts for Seniors
Powered by LiveJournal.com