Dialogue.

Tangled Web Tracy paced back and forth knowing that she needed to make her story convincing. She told herself to take a deep breath and that everything would be fine. She coaxed herself to call her mother and father. They will come home early from their vacation, but no problem, “this too shall pass,” she thought. She dialed with dread. “Hi mom, I am really sorry, but, yours and dad’s Mini Cooper was stolen sometime between this morning and this afternoon.” Ha ha, good one” Tracy’s mother, June, chortled! Tracy reiterated, “No, really, the car is gone.” “Oh my God, are you okay?” “No worries, mom, I am fine, but I noticed the car missing this afternoon when I went out to the garage to put cloths in the wash.” “ Call granny and call the police to make a report, Dad and I will be home on the next flight” declared her mother. Tracy responded with obedience, “Okay, I’ll call you back in a bit.” “Bye.” Tracy reflected back to Saturday afternoon and realized how lucky she and Sara were to still be alive and not hurt. She was thankful that her friends helped her hide the car and come up with a story to tell her parents. Her mind instantly recalled the smashed up passenger side. Tracy came back to the present and gasped, “The cops.” “Okay, dial the number.” A firm, authoritative voice answered the phone, “Police Department, what is your emergency?” Tracy spoke confidently. Hello, my name is Tracy Jones and I live at 988 Stonewall Drive and I need to report that my mother and father’s car has been stolen.” The calm dispatchers voice spoke, “Okay, Tracy, we will send an officer over right away. Are you okay?” Tracy answered, “yes” and said “thank you.” The doorbell rang and granny walked in and ranted, “Oh my God, Tracy Lynn, are you okay?” “I am just sick about this.” Tracy hugged her grandmother and reassured her that all was well, and the only thing bad that happened was that the car has been stolen. Granny sounded exasperated, “What is the world coming to when people think they can just take someone else’s car?” Granny further exclaimed that the car was probably “in some ditch in Tim-Buck-Two.” Tracy was feeling the blood flood into her neck and face and spouted,” Yes, the stupid thieving bastards.” Granny agreed. “Did you call the police, dear” Granny asked? Tracy nodded innocently and replied, “They are on their way.” Knock. Knock. Tracy opened the door and invited the officers in. One of the policemen took out a notepad to record all the details and asked, “When did you notice the car was missing,” “What color and make was your parent’s car,” and “Do you know the license plate number?” Tracy diligently answered, “This afternoon,” blue, BMW Mini Cooper S, and lilboyblu.” Tracy was feeling comfortable in her lie until a scratchy noise came over the radio. “Unit 8, please respond to a possible 10-4A, location ,Parson’s Lake, small, blue, sports car, license plate lilboyblu.” Tracy couldn’t ignore the obvious similarity, so all she could do was look in astonishment at the officers and say, “Oh my Gosh, that might be my parent’s car!” “How weird is that?”

Test prep II

I have had quite a time with the definition of prose vs. poetry. This video helped me. Definition of prose poem: A poem that blends the appearance of prose with the imagery and associative power of poetry. http://youtu.be/EOg8CIys8t0

How to Scan a Line of Poetry

Howl Imitation

Today

I see the best minds of my generation..

Strive to “make a dolla out of 15 cents” and fight to keep their heads up because they are good and believe in making a difference.

 

Settle on Park Avenue in twenty-thousand square ft. apartments (they don’t tip the people below) but never venture or visit the other side of Park Avenue because they are “unable to bridge the gap,” or they are at meeting with important people buying more control.

Who have lost their identity due to the treacherous, tangled, diabolical, demanding, unmerciful, unrelenting, web that has been woven.

Send our kids off to war, and when the soldiers return, they are never quite the same because of the horrors of war.

Who negotiate instead of retaliate because of the belief in freedom, individual expression and peace.

Who stand up and have faith even when everyone has failed him or her.

 
Succumb to a drug that turns them into monsters and leaves them for dead and who are the poster child for what not to do.

Set up plans to build bigger, better prisons that fill to the brim with patients and criminals locked up with the former being released with a weeks’ worth of meds and who doesn’t know how to maintain his or her illness and ends up setting fire to a random family home or business because it is a fact that there are aliens living there with evil plots that are a threat to the communities safety.

Who are without a mom, dad, sister, brother, friend, job, car, shoes, roof, or a safe neighborhood.

Who can sing, laugh, play, work, learn, love, and make wonderful wildflower bouquets.

Awakening

Caterpillar, Butterfly.
Self expression.

Sestina

1996 was a year that changed my life.
My first sight of my journey was Flathead Lake.
I rounded a corner in the road and saw a big expanse of blue water.
I was in love.  My first year there was a record snow storm.
A good sign.  I lived in Smith Valley on Sherman Road.
For weeks my Geo was buried in snow.

For months, the view was only snow.
I had so much fun in my life
then.  I hiked, walked up the road
to Hidden, Avalanche, or Lion Lake.
Winter drives through a snow storm
were a blast, like a splash of cold water.

In July, I was the Weeping Wall, a water
fall made from melting snow.
It is amazing the quiet of a storm
as I walk or drive I reflect on life
and how beautiful it is. Flathead Lake,
and St. Mary's lake are along side of the road.

After a day long hike, we hitchhiked up Going-to-the-Sun Road.
All we need is bottled water
to quench our thirst, and a swim in the lake
or let the dogs roll in the snow.
The Flathead Valley added magic to my life.
The beauty and magic, the sun and the storm

were a gift to me from nature, yes even the storm.
Putting the truck in four-wheel drive, almost getting stuck in the road
and hiking a Big Mountain trail was a part of my life.
My adventures there were as nourishing as fresh water.
The year of the record snow
we drove to lake McDonald and walked on the lake.

I wanted to walk all the way across the lake
but there were huge cracks.  The storm
on the way to Bigfork when the snow
was coming down in huge flakes and the road
could barely be seen was like a glass of cold water
on a hot summer day. Water gives us all life.

Thank you Flathead lake, and Sherman and Jellison road,
for every storm, river, and lake water,
for 9 years and record snow and for giving me life.