We interrupt National Poetry Month for a Social Experiment

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My friend Jacqueline Fedyk is amazing. She’s a visual artist, musician, writer, tea connoisseur and all around delight to be around. Right now she’s in the midst of a very cool project, a social experiment, if you will.

She has a box of 100 Vintage DC Comic Postcards. She bought them, and at the time didn’t know why she was buying them. But she came up with a brilliant way to use them and share the joy for comic-lovers, social scientists and all manner of creative individual. She’s having anyone and everyone contact her for a post card. She’ll take a photo of the postcard and post it on her blog including a fictionalized adventure created just for you.  (Note: she promises not to sell your info or post it on the interwebs. She will only use your information for this project and nothing else ever.)

Why is she doing this, you ask? Because she just wants to see if she can do it and where all the cards end up and if others will post about this kookie artist in the Cascade Foothills who is sending out personalized (albeit fictionalized) adventures. And to see if she can get 100 people to join in.

The day my card arrived from her, it was such a welcome sight in my mailbox amongst the medical bills, junk mail, and weekly grocery store circulars. I love that mine had this Iron Giant type robot and all the old-school DC heroes like Flash and Green Lantern. The adventure caused me to squeal in glee. Here’s what she wrote:



For me it will have been only a few hours since we lost saw one another, but for you it will have been 10 years. The Doctor has promised that you will recieve this postcard at the right time. There was a problem with the Quantum Flux that has resulted in a “time-skip.” Meet me at 7:45 p.m. in the old graveyard and please bring me a six pack and a box of ginger snaps!It’s been a long day for me and an even longer one for you!

Your Pal,


Fun right? Oh and when I met her at the graveyard, we had a big ol’ party! 😉

She still has plenty of cards and I hope you all will contact her  and join in on the fun.

You have nothing to lose. Just gain a cool postcard and a moment of amusement and possibly even joy. Happiness in your mailbox. Do it. I promise you won’t regret it.

Free-Range Fiction: National Poetry Month Challenge Continues

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I realized something doing this self-imposed challenge is that you’re all getting a glimpse into my life and the lives of those around me.  I have, in essence, stumbled upon why so many people are so afraid of writers.  Once again, I refer to the wise words of Anne Lamott:  “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”

Yet, you’ll see that some of my poems so far are done in a warm light. Others, not so much. I will not apologize. Because also as Ms. Lamott says, “If we stay where we are, where we’re stuck, where we’re comfortable and safe, we die there… When nothing new can get in, that’s death.”

So, as I learn, perhaps my readers, and anyone who recognizes themselves in my words, my poetry, can learn something, too.

Here’s another poem below. 

April 9, 2013:

Gardening Yoga

Dig my nails into the dirt

Pull the weeds, toss the earth

Wipe my hands on my shirt

Push my hair out of my face


Rake the soil into rich rows

Drag the prongs like nails on skin

Face the sun, breeze airs out my pores

Draw in my breath for more energy


Plowing through my sowing ‘stead

Stretch over the garden’s realm

Tuck the seeds into little beds

Shrink down as water soaks in


Surveying the fruits of my labor

Pluck a stray blade of grass

Toss it towards the chicken’s favor

Plant my feet, hope for tomorrow

Free-Range Fiction: Poetry 4-12-13

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Here are two more poems. I’m still playing catch up; but, I hope to be caught up by the time the weekend closes.

Again, comments are appreciated. 

April 7, 2013:

Little Man

Gone are those

Infant cheeks

The downy hair

Your voice deep,

Not quite sure

You strut instead

Of toddle

You would rather

Be with the boys

On the ball field

Than in the kitchen underfoot

Or having stories read

I see your smile

It’s stayed the same

I hear your laugh

That is not same,

Yet endearing

The sound caught between

Babe and man

Your shoulders

Broad and strong

Ready to Take

On the world

Your eyes show shyness

When the giggling girls

Walk by

You dream of

Big leagues,

Fast cars,

World travel

A bucket list

Imagined without

Fear of failure

I’m your biggest




I try to temper

My words

Keep to the positive

Not all my

Dreams realized

You are a dream

I never knew I had


My son

My joy

I can always

See the babe

While seeing the

Incredible man

You are to be


April 8,2013:

Pain Monster Valkyrie

Mom, can I call you?

Of course.



Oh, sweet one

I know the pain

The world can put out

It doesn’t change

Only you can

Ask what the anguish

Wants to teach you

It will reach into

Your chest

Tentacled fingers

Full of claws and

Rip and tear

Endure the agony

Let it sit next to you

Invite it for tea

And ask it what

Message is for you

Learn the lessons

Sooner than later

Faster than slower

After tea and


Kick it out

Seek forgiveness

From yourself and

Know I’ll always have

An ear

A shoulder

A hug

I can’t keep the hurt away

But I can help

You achieve the

Skills to cope

And know

It gets better

That you can be a

Pain monster valkyrie

Free Range Fiction: The Poetry Version

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You know the ol’ diddy? She’s a poet and didn’t know it? Well, I know it. I’m not a poet.

But, smart folks know that in order to learn, you have to go out of your comfort zone.    April presents a perfect opportunity for me to push myself (without paying tuition or conference fees), to push myself. It’s National Poetry Month. Many writers write a poem a day for April.  Also, as part of my Happiness Project, I’m supposed to be learning a new art. So, Poetry is on the list.

Things are still crazy for me, so I’m a bit behind, but I’m sitting in my favorite cafe right now churning out poems to catch up. My goal is to post these poems each day here.  I’ll happily admit they probably aren’t that great. Yet, lots can be learned by making mistakes and putting it out there for critique. If you comment and say, “they suck,” without telling me why they suck, I won’t learn anything other than you’re breaking Wil Wheaton’s Number One Rule, and being a prime example of Wizard’s First Rule. What you don’t know what Wizard’s First Rule is? I can’t help you. Go read a book.

What I’ve learned so far these last 11 days is that you have to mine deep for poetry. Prose and fiction I can spew like any storyteller with little difficulty. Poetry is all about emotion. I had a professor and editor once tell me that poetry is the language of the soul. Absolutely dead on. So there’s some very personal stuff coming out of this poetry. I’m swallowing my pride and fear and putting it out there. If you don’t like it — click away. I won’t mind. If you like it, if it speaks to you, please leave a comment.

At any rate, below is my first feeble attempts since leaving University and my arts & literature education.  Hopefully you’ll check back each day as I attempt to continue to write a poem a day.

April 1, 2013:

Feel the Catcus

Old cowboy star crush

Met finally

In life’s autumn

School girl giggles

Make the

Autumn bloom

To Spring

Dry desert air

And sunshine

On skin

Glow with

The blush

Of attraction

Dreams accomplished

Time for the


Until then

Can die happy


April 2, 2013:

 In the Margins





I sit

You write

I wait

You sigh

Charcoal on fingers

And paper

Drops of rain

On window

Pain and wonder

On heart


April 3, 2013:

Aries Moon

It’s Mom’s day

Not Mother’s day

She won’t fuss

But her day

A ram born to a ram


I call, wish her well

She says

It’s just a day,

Nothing worth noting



For seven plus 60 years, Mom…



Dad’s playing poker

She responds

And calls for her dog:



You got some ‘plaining to do


I wish her well







That’s what is left


April 4, 2013:

Fare Thee Well

It’s a double-edged



The love

The loss


It’s there to





It’s a rusty



The sting

The grief


It’s there to





It’s an undressed



The not knowing

The wonder


It’s there to





It’s an undying



The Mother’s Love

The Unending Compassion


It’s there to





April 5, 2013:

Friday Goodbye

We celebrate

As a culture

As a population

The end of the

Labor week

The end of the daily


An easy meal

A raised glass

A collective sigh of relief


But today it rains

We wave goodbye

The pans are cold

The glasses dusty

And alone

A collection of tears



There you have it. My first five poems for National Poetry Month.