Thanks to the lovely Ken Sitton, I now have more photos from the the Renn Faire to share. You can see them by clicking on the picture below, or just visit the "Photo Album." It was easier to post them there than to try and fit them into this page today.
Enjoy!~w

I'm missing the National Poetry Slam. It wasn't so bad until i read the slam email group notes and saw rankings and scores and felt a sudden rush of joy knowing that the team my friend coached is doing really well and on their way to semi-finals tonight. Then i realized that i wanted to know how the rest of my poetry friends were doing and had no way to get all the details, or hear the poems that got them where they are, or cheer for them from a packed room full of crazy poetry fans. Instead i'm typing poetry all week at home and missing all the excitment.~w

Of course not nearly all of the things i listed yesterday were completed, or even worked on for that matter. There is always something else that gets in the way. Like hiring people to do the other jobs that aren't even on my list. Strangely enough, i feel like once summer is officially over and the actors are on the road i may have more time to relax.~w

Okay, so that project is out of the way. Today i'm working on manuals for the new actors, adding the blocking to the scripts, and if i have time my presentation for the 28th and the other two anthologies. Maybe when that's all done i'll get around to writing for myself again.~w

Here are some little snippety things today.

****
Landscape as Self-portrait
Having escaped winter's cocoon
I'm learning to spread my wings
I flit free from branch to branch
Looking for a better view
Watch me soar through the forest
barely following the path.
I can hover on a leaf
to bat my long lashes at you.
But will leave you with a wink of blue.
****
Limerick
The squirrels gave me a funny look
As they passed me writing in my book
Then scampered away
And continued to play
Feeling sorry I must work in my nook.
****
I am from...for the character in "The Dog Ate My Homework" by Sara Holbrook
I am from messy rooms and killer dust bunnies,
dog slobber and animal hair everywhere.
I don't think I own paper without a muddy paw print on it.

You can tell from my clothes who rules our house,
they were lint free
when I pulled them from the dryer
this morning.

The house is full of TV babble form every room
and Mom yelling from the other end of the house
about something I don't hear.

I am from mismatched shoes as well as socks,
notice the teeth marks...

I am from Mickey D's and Mac 'n' Cheese
easy stuff when there's no time to eat.
Store bought birthday cake is a special treat
if Mom remembers we've forgotten to eat.

I am from midnight snacks snuck from the pantry
and bologna for breakfast.
"My breakfast has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R..."

I am from "Clean your room"
"Don't let the dog in" and
"Clean your room"
"Put your clothes away" and
"Clean your room"
"You have until I count to 5 to..."
"Clean your room"

I am from a mom who identifies with Dolly P in 9 to 5
and a Dad who moved to the other side of town.

I am from an older sister that bugs me
a younger brother that tugs me
and a dog who eats carrots and paper.

You don't believe me?
Come & visit sometime.
*****
Don't you go getting any ideas about that last poem. Me and my cat keep a very neat house.~w

One of the many things i have to do this week is type up some of my writing that i wrote during the summer residency to include in that group's anthology. So, here's another snippit of writing from a prompt about querencia found in a book called "Writing Toward Home" by Georgia Heard.

After a long winter of gray twisted trunks,
when everything was dormant,
spring has brought forth my querencia once again.
It is all the shades of green, vert, emerald thriving in the jungle I call a backyard.
Even at night the fireflies dance with their lime fluorescent lanterns to my delight.

Some have tamed, well manicured yards,
but mine has gone wild,
more home to bees and birds
than even the neighborhood cats who dare to stroll through.

I added boxes this spring for the bluebird,
who came by to peek at me through the kitchen window,
and now he and his lady have joined me in this querencia.

Two cardinals fought for the rights,
and nearly attacked my red car one evening
in the struggle to call this their home too.

Three bird feeders are not enough
to feed all the friends who have come to visit,
the brilliant dancing gems of my garden.

Occasionally I beat back the grass,
so I can find the clothesline,
but only after the daisies, clover and dandelions have bloomed.

A friend asked this spring how the "fire-pokers" were doing
in the small bed he had moved them to when trying to tame the yard...
"My neighbor called it an octopus," I said
and counted over 50 blooms for him.
Not bad for 4 foot square of space
when each orange-yellow bloom shoots up 3-4 feet high above it's grassy base.

My cat won't venture alone into the yard anymore.
I open the door and she waits and calls to me to join her.

The side by the church has gone wild
with red leaf maple, white oak, red & white dogwood,
purple princess tree, and a faerie's garden of undergrowth.

The tree tops shiver and dance in each breeze,
calling me to remember that love always springs anew from the earth.
All I need is sitting right in front of me
if I only stop to look...
and the center of my view,
the most important tree,
asks the eternal question...
"Y"
----------------------
That's it for now. More to come tomorrow.~w

I just realized that Sunday is over and i didn't blog. I guess i was too much in my head today to get anything on the page.~w