Post challenge

Well, I made it, Dear Readers (okay...maybe a little late)!

Okay, I am VERY late with this post; between finishing A to Z and my Kickstarter getting funded, and then getting cast in a production of Curtains: the Musical, there has been little free time lately. I am working on changing that though. In the meantime here are some thoughts on this years Blogging A to Z.

First, I actually planned out my posts and having a theme and something planned for each day really helped. That helped, especially on days that I had little spare time. Books were my theme, I picked a book that corresponded with the days letter. There are plenty of books I have read, so I was able to blog about each book. Although something to consider is that as I read books I should take some noted, just in case I plan to use that book for a future A to Z challenge, or any future blog. It is a bit more work, but I think it might help me to focus on details of the book.

Second, when I decided to do NaPoWriMo-National Poetry Writing Month, which means writing a poem a day-as well, it gave my posts a bit more substance. I'm a poet by nature, so it only makes sense that I would write a poem about that days featured book. Even if I wasn't doing NaPoWriMo I think I would still write a poem about whatever topic I was writing about (book, movie, etc.), because that is what I do.

Third, I need to push myself a bit harder when I do these challenges, because I find that when I have something to strive for then I manage to achieve those goals. This means next year I will plan out my April, and outline each post. It feels like a lot of work, but I think I can make my posts more engaging and provocative.

Blogging from A to Z has always been a challenge that I love to return to, and I hope you have enjoyed this years posts. Happy Reading!

jeltovski at morguefile

Z is for Zebra (On Beyond)

What lies beyond Zebra? Past the letter Z? There appears to be a whole new branch of critters that exist solely beyond the letter Z and zebra.

On Beyond Zebra written by Dr. Seuss always fascinated me with the strange creatures and the strange letters that looked sort of like runes, or the ogham alphabet. That was before I knew what the ogham alphabet was. I think I imagined trying to write sentences with these new letters, I don't  was successful in this venture.

There were a few books of Dr. Seuss that feature new creatures, from On Beyond Zebra, If I Ran the Zoo, and If I Ran the Circus are the main ones that featured undiscovered creatures. But the thin about many Dr. Seuss books is that there was usual an animal, or place with a strange and ever-long/how-do-you-pronounce that name in the stories. I definitely remember the names, and certainly imagining what those places looked like, beyond the actually stories.

What are your favourite Seussian creatures from any of the books? Leave me a comment below, Dear Readers.

Beyond the Known

When striking the last line

at the bottom of the letter Zed.

You should know there is a lot more than

what you already know.

At the bottom of the letter Zed,

there is a letter called a Yuzz.

What you already know

about life after Zebra?

There is a letter called a Yuzz,

the beginning of the 'after Z safari,'

about life after Zebra,

and all of the things that exist.

The beginning of the 'after Z safari'

will surprise you with it's diversity

and all of the things that exist,

beyond what you know.

Will surprise you with it's diversity

and maybe some rhyming,

beyond what you know;

maybe even want to know them all.

And maybe some rhyming

as you begin to explore the terrain,

maybe want to know they all,

like some sort of game.

As to begin to explore the terrain,

you should know there is a lot more;

like some sort of game

when striking the last line.

NaPoWriMo: Hidden Identities

Shakespeare Sunday and a pantoum for 12th Night. Enjoy! 

Also, I am a little glad that April and NaPoWriMo/Blogging A to Z is almost over I am a little whupped in the poetic department. It's been fun, and planning ahead as certainly helped, but I am ready to be done. Still, today was a challenge as I haven't actually read 12th Night all the way through. I hope I did it justice anyway, Dear Readers.

Hidden Identities

A hidden gender truth

from one who wants to find her way.

Mistaken identities run loose 

from the company in Illyria.

From one who wants to find her way,

is loved by a lady, who is also loved by the Duke

from the company in Illyria,

where a sibling lost has returned;

And is loved by a lady, who is also loved by the Duke,

but also finds the stranger in town familiar,

where a sibling lost has returned

and holds the fancy of the Duke's love.

But also finds the stranger in town familiar,

in his care for the lost Sebastian who,

and holds the fancy of the Duke's love,

a pentagon of love.

In his care for the lost Sebastian who;

a story of he loves she, loves her or him,

a pentagon of love.

Here's a clue, all works out in the end.

A story of he loves she, loves her or him,

mistaken identities run loose

Here's a clue, all works out in the end,

a hidden gender truth.

Y is for Year of the Flood (The)

The sequel to Margaret Atwood's dystopian series, The Maddaddam Series: The Year of the Flood takes the story of two new characters and their fighting chance to survive the world after the waterless flood.

Set in the same world as Oryx and Crake, you now get to see life in the city and beyond, how people ho have survived are surviving. There is Ren, a trapeze artist trapped in a sex club and Toby, former member of the cult God's Gardeners and is trapped in an abandoned spa. This is their story about breaking free and what waits for them on the outside. Imagine the world of Snowman and Crake's Children it is wild and dangerous, and thoroughly enjoyable.

Margaret Atwood's created a wild world that so invests your time and attention in the details, but not sacrificing the story.

Have you, Dear Readers, ever read Margaret Atwood? What books, or short stories? Wat do you want to read? The MaddAddam Trilogy is still my favourite.

Waterless

When there is nothing left,

after the flood has passed;

is not one of water that takes the lives

and leave the world's survivor left.

After the flood has passed,

what will you do;

and leave the world's survivors left

to inherit what's left of the earth.

What will you do?

Are you meek enough

to inherit whats left of the earth

after everyone is gone.

Are you meek enough,

to take on the wrath of Animalia

after everyone is gone,

and all that is left to eat are cocktail wienies?

To take on the wrath of Animalia

in the days after the flood

and all that are left to eat are cocktail wienies or

to eat something called Jolt Bars.

In the days after the flood,

locked way, safe and sound

to eat something called Jolt Bars

and avoid starving to death.

Locked away, safe and sound--

is not one of water that takes the lives

and avoid starving to death,

when there is nothing left.

X is for Xanadu

You want a trip in the surreal? Maybe with rock music? Someplace where ELO meets Big Bands...and Gene Kelly. Oh, and there's roller skating too!

Sound like a fever dream? Maybe...

It's Xanadu!

First a poem titled Kubla Khan in 1797 by a poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge (belo w is the first stanza), it's about the Mongolian ruler Kubla Khan, the grandson of Genghis Khan dreaming in his pleasure palace;  a movie in 1980; and later musical in 2007.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 
A stately pleasure-dome decree: 
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran 
Through caverns measureless to man 
Down to a sunless sea. 

Xanadu is defined as an idyllic place, a place place of great beauty, luxury, contentment. From dictionary.com and Merriam-Webster online dictionary.

Xanadu is many thing all rolled into one. The primary story centers on the Greek muses, nine sisters and one muse in particular, Kira's (real name is Terpsichore. Clio in the musical.) and her adventures on earth. The funny part is the movie is adaptation of a movie from Down to Earth (1947), which is an adaptation of a play Heaven Can Wait. The movie is filled with rock music from ELO (Electric Light Orchestra), Olivia Newton-John, who plays Kira in the movie, and early animation from Don Bluth. Never mind that it is about a roller disco and features Gene Kelly in his last movie role; and one amazing scene that blends 1940s and 1980s music into the most intense mash-up ever.

It was also one of two movie nominated for the first ever Golden Raspberry Award, but lost out to the Village People movie, Can't Stop the Music.

It also needs to be seen to be believed.

A Musing Inspiration

Where is the inspiration?

The Greeks believed the Muses inspired,

giving mankind a leg up in creativity

in song, poetry, and dance.

The Greeks believed the Muses inspired,

nine sisters to grant humanity gifts

in song, poetry, and dance;

to create something out of nothing.

Nine sisters to grant humanity gifts,

although I prefer my gifts to be my own,

to create something out of nothing,

but maybe I am wrong.

Although I prefer my gifts to be my ow,n,

weaving words across a page or colours across a canvas,

but maybe I am wrong,

that gifts are given to us, for us make our own.

Weaving words across a page or colours across a canvas; 

that is our job, isn't it?

That gifts are given to us, for us make our own,

out of the spiritual ether around us.

That is out jobs, isn't it,

make the art that the world needs

out of the spiritual ether around us?

That might just be the gods bequeathing their gifts.

Make the art that the world needs,

giving mankind a leg up in creativity

that might just be the gods bequeathing their gifts.

What is the inspiration? 

V is for View (from the Cheap Seats)

Something occurred to me right before I started writing this; not all books need to be fiction, and  some books are better as non-fiction.

That is a strange statement coming from me. The person who prefers fiction to reality, some days.

It  was apparent that The View from the Cheap Seats had to be today's book. There was also a mess of thoughts about how even the stories of your reality, or reality is general, can be just as fascinating as any fiction.

When Cheap Seats first came out, I was all over it. It was a Neil Gaiman book, so of course I needed it. I needed to read it. It wasn't fiction, but there was something magical about reading Neil's thoughts on books, movies, comic books, favourite author, movies of his books, his hawt musical wife, and being famous; I ate it up.

I read every single essay. No, likely I devoured every single essay. I may not have read some of the pieces that Neil wrote about, but I really got to feel like I had, or that I wanted to. Personal favourites include his essays on Douglas Adams, Ray Bradbury, one titled "Some Reflections on Myth", and  another titled "Make Good Art".

The whole book should be read, honestly, as there is something for everyone.

I may not even get the cheap seats; sometimes I get nosebleed seats and need to bring binoculars. Haha! So, I wrote my own tribute to the man and his book that gave to me something special: a love of non-fiction and essays. No one has done that before. And I have read some really wonderful non-fiction, but this one is special.

So, from my own place in the nosebleed seats, here's to you, Neil!

Musings From the Nosebleed Seats

In a book upon my shelf,

full of mysteries to delve into; 

not all stories have to be fiction,

sometimes reality is stranger than fiction.

Full of mysteries to delve into,

from a man no stranger to fantasy.

Sometimes reality is stranger than fiction

in the lives that we choose to live.

From a man no stranger to fantasy,

a writer writing on writing.

In the lives we choose to live,

and the books we choose to read.

A writer writing on writing,

yet it is the nature of the writer

and the books we choose to read,

that build our mythologies.

Yet it is the nature of the writer,

to find these connections

that build our mythologies

and to wax philosophical.

To find these connections

between our fantasies and realities

and to wax philosophical

from the nosebleed seats.

Between our fantasies and realities,

I have uncovered my own truths

from the nosebleed seats,

that maybe there is still hope.

I have uncovered my own truths;

not all stories have to be fiction,

that maybe there is still hope

in a book upon my shelf.

U is for UP (Great Day for)

The Letter of the day is U. It was hard to find a U title to use, so I had to get creative and use a title that features the letter U. I will utilized my grey matter. The umpteen entries for words that starts with Un that I find, but I won't take umbrage with that. Maybe I'll just buy a ukelele and sing you this book? It just so happens that Dr. Seuss is good for that-alas I don't have a ukelele-with a book called, Great Day for Up.

A rousing tale to help you wake up and start your day. Although, I am just a tad cynical when it comes to early risers, or getting up in the morning in general. I tend to like my bed and being burritoed in my warm and comfy blankets. But get UP I do.

At least a Great Day for Up is a good book to write a pantoum about.

This book was (and still is) part of my collection, although over the years this said collection has shrunk some, and I absolutely love Dr. Seuss in any form. His way with words makes you want to read the books louder and in some cases faster. Dr. Seuss books were staples of my bedtime routine for years. And I am not afraid to admit that sometimes I will take out one of his books to read. They never get old! Green Eggs and Ham, On Beyond Zebra, If I Ran the Zoo, or Scrambled Eggs Super are just a few of my favourites.

Not much else to say, except that I am UP today!

Here's your poetic slice for today, Dear Readers. I don't try to rhyme when I write, as most times it comes off as trite. (Okay, you had that coming). So, I pose to you what are your favourite Dr. Seuss stories? Please leave me a comment below.

Cheers!

UP, You Say? UP!

This little book's wishes,

states hardly more than two dozen words

(I haven't counted though)

about the joys of getting up.

States hardly more than two dozen words,

mostly using that two letter word

about the joys of getting up,

usually when the sun slowly rises.

Mostly using that two letter word

to rally the troops to get them outta bed,

usually when the sun slowly rises,

but others will UP in the middle of night.

To rally the troops to get them outta bed,

because that is what you do, right?

But others will UP in the middle of night,

but it is still UP! UP! UP!

Because that is what you do, right?

I prefer to avoid the status quo, you know,

but it is still UP! UP! UP!

Faster and earlier each day.

I prefer to avoid the status quo, you know,

but taking my time to rise though

faster and earlier each day,

I will still slowly get UP in order to follow

But taking my time to rise though

(I haven't counted though)

I will still slowly get UP in order to follow;

this little book's wishes.

S of for Stardust

A love story, a fantasy adventure, and drama with a fantastical theme, that is everything in the book (and movie) Stardust by Neil Gaiman. And this is a short entry, because I was out all day doing VERY IMPORTANT work! Enjoy the poem! Read the book!!

Yes I used the name of Captain Shakespeare in the movie, not the book which is Captain Alberic and the ship the Perdita.

Cheers! (cause I got this on time, meaning before midnight EST).

Stellar Love

When you wish upon a star,

does it make the star now fall?

And you now have a chance to impress

the love that you so want to address.

Does it make the star now fall,

because you willed it to?

The love that you so want to address

with a quest to prove that love real.

Because you willed it to,

now you can bring a treasure to her

with a quest to prove that love real,

but what you didn't plan for was...

Now you can bring a treasure to her,

a beautiful fallen star that shines,

but what you didn't plan for was

the love of Yvaine is a much stronger pull.

A beautiful fallen star that shines,

at first with anger, but then something like

the love of Yvaine is a  much stronger pull

after the chase, the witches and Septimus too.

At first with anger, but then something like

a dance on deck of the Caspertine

after the chase, the witches and Septimus too

when for a moment the guard is down.

A dance on deck of the Caspertine

and some lightening to sell,

when for the moment, the guard is down

that love spans across the universe.

And some lightening to sell,

and a visit to Victoria reveals

that the love spans the universe,

but not the wall, unless to dust she returns.

And a visit to Victoria reveals

that you have a chance to impress,

but not the wall, unless to dust she returns

when you wish upon a star.

R is for Round Robin

I had a huge collection of books as a kid, and I still have a bunch of the books including today's book, Round Robin by Jack Kent. It is the story of a very hungry robin, who eats and eats, and by the time winter arrives he, 'looks more like a ball, than a bird' (actually line from the book).

It's a funny little story with some pretty awesome artwork that chronicles Round Robin's attempt to get south by hopping the whole way. He is chased by foxes and cars, sliding on ice, conversation and generally fearing for his life, until surprise, surprise he is able to fly the last bit on his own, because he lost weight with all that Hippity Hop, Bumpity Bumping southward.

But my favourite was and is 'Hippity Hop, Slipity Slide'', when he is sliding down the road.

We are have felt like Round Robin, just a little more, it won't hurt anything. But in reality, it is a good lesson in moderation, or watch out for foxes!

Little Bird Eat

Little Robin where have you gone?

All summer pecking at the seeds,

eating your fill and then some,

til you  become more of a ball, than a bird.

All summer pecking at the seeds,

called Round Robin, as you go,

til you become more of a ball, than a bird

and now winter is coming.

Called Round Robin, as you go,

must to the south you will travel

and now winter is coming

and there is no more seed.

Must to the south you will travel,

but to flap and flutter, now you stumble

and there is no more seed,

so off you set, hippity hopping...

But to flap and flutter, now you stumble

as you travel southward, 

so of you set, hippity hopping

and before you know it...

As you travel southward,

eating your fill and then some

and before you know it

Little Robin where have you gone.

Q is for Quiet (Place, A)

Okay I have to cheat a little today. I haven't read a single book that starts with the Letter Q, and I'm slightly ashamed by this. A Quiet Place is today. Anyway, this movie was worth two novels, from the content to the acting. I usually prefer to have explanations for my characters and plot, but after re-watching Cloverfield and then seeing 10 Cloverfield Lane, I understand why storytellers will give you only a bare bones backstory (okay that was a lot of alliteration there).

A Quiet Place is a story to be seen. It is not quite the horror movie that the trailers are promoted. I think it falls into a science fiction thriller. John Krasinski wrote this screenplay, and I seemed to have forgotten that he was on the office as Jim Halpert.

Although, I did have to remind myself not to jump at the jump scares. It didn't really work this time, sadly...I enjoyed this movie. But jump scares aside, this is a solid plot with a fascinating concept, and top notch acting, especially from the non-humans.

The actors really needed to be able to act with their faces and hands as there there is little to no spoken dialogue. The actress, Millicent Simmonds, who play the daughter is actually deaf. Her and John Krasinski were wonderful together.An entertaining movie and one I would consider buying on DVD, which says a lot  because I am super picky about the movie I buy on DVD.

And, A Quiet Place was shot in Pawling, New Paltz, and Little Falls, NY. Favourite shot in the moive is of Main Street in Little Falls, so creepy and beautiful, but I have a thing for things that are old and abandon, or at least made to look abandoned.

So, some of you are probably here for the poem. Okay, I can when you are humouring me rambling on about movies and such. Today's pantoum that is so silent, well, it might kill you if you make a noise while reading it, Dear Readers. A bit of humour for you today.

Enjoy!

Silent Steps

There is nothing left but silence

throughout the empty streets.

Don't say a word, walking silent steps,

because that is how they know.

Throughout the empty streets,

the soft footfalls muffled upon sand,

because that is how they know,

when your feet hits a creaky spot.

The soft footfalls muffled upon sand,

walking to town, gathering supplies leftover.

When you make a sound,

and forget the nightmare all around you.

Walking to town, gathering supplies leftover

when your are sick with a fever,

and forget the nightmare all around you,

on prescribed paths outlined everywhere.

When tour are sick with a fever

after all the people are gone.

On prescribed paths outlined everywhere,

silent, because they can hear you breathing.

After all the people are gone,

everything becomes a chore,

silent, because they can hear you breathing

and knowing that frightens you.

Everything becomes a chore.

Don't say a word, walking silent steps

and knowing that frightens you;

there is nothing left but silence.

P is for Peter and Pan

Things I remember about Peter Pan: Robin Williams will always be Pan, Banarang!, there was one time they made Tiger Lily's tribe multi-cultural (the movie Pan), Neverland in far under everything else in the Archipelago of Dreams (Chronicles of the the Imaginarium Geographica), and if you perform Peter Pan on stage you need to make Peter Pan fly (no matter how hard to try to get around it), Peter Pan flies.


Peter Pan was written by J.M. Barrie, born James Matthew Barrie. Some people wonder how someone like J.M. Barrie could write a story like Peter Pan. And most people probably don't know that Barrie wrote plays, a couple of them are renowned, Admiral Crichton and and Dear Brutus. It makes me curious to seek these out and some of his other novels.

Barrie received a shock at age 6 when his brother died and because of an over-baring mother retained a child-like innocence of the time before everything changed, which is a strange kind of sadness. It also make a lot of sense why he ended of creating the stories of Peter Pan and Neverland.

I finally read the book, Peter Pan, sometime last year or maybe the year before, and I remember it was more detailed than the plays and movies. That isn't to downplay any of the movies or the theatrical productions, there is just more presented in the book. It is a wonderful book though.

But, where some people read Peter Pan growing up, I was much older when I actually read it. It gives a different perspective when you do it in the order.

Morning Flight

It starts with adventure

in the late hours of night,

when the windows are open wide

and in sneaks a stray shadow.

In the late hours of night,

when you are supposed to be asleep

and in sneaks a stray shadow,

followed by the most unlikely boy.

When your supposed to be asleep,

but awakened by the sound of crying,

followed by the most unlikely boy

and a temperamental faerie.

But awakened by the sound of crying

and you don't know what is coming next;

and a temperamental faerie

blows you dusty kisses.

And you don't know what is coming next

as you float off the ground,

blows you dusty kisses

and fly so far away that time will forget you.

As you float off the ground,

think happy thoughts

and fly so far away that time will forget you,

and second star to the right, straight on to morning.

Think happy thoughts

when the windows are wide open

and second star to the right, straight on to morning;

it starts with adventure.

O is for Ox-Cart (Man)

O is for Ox, Ox-Cart, Ox-Cart Man!

It is a lesser known story, but one I am most familiar with. I am not even sure how many people remember the Ox-Cart Man written by Donald Hall. It was a staple of my youth, either reading it myself or having one of my parents. It was part of the Children's Choice Book Club that my parents subscribed to, and I received a book a month, I think.

It was also where I got Bread and Jam for Frances, Best Friends for Frances, Roland the Minstrel Pig, Corduroy, and Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile just to name a few books from my youth. What stories do you remember from your childhood?

A Trip to Market

It was in Autumn,

when we loaded the cart;

all that was leftover from the past years work,

that will sell at Portsmouth Market.

When we loaded the cart

full of apples, potatoes, and maple sugar,

that will sell at Portsmouth Market

when the leaves begin to fall.

Full of apples, potatoes, and maple sugar

that will fetch a fine price,

when the leaves begin to fall,

but also will the cart that carries this load.

That will fetch a fine price;

the bull with a ring in his nose,

but also will the cart that carries this load,

one last time to Portsmouth Market.

The bull with a ring in his nose,

left with a kiss upon his nose.

One last time to Portsmouth Market

and a load of wintergreen peppermint in a black kettle.

Left with a kiss upon his nose,

the long walk back homeward

and a load of wintergreen peppermint in a black kettle;

a needle, a knife and some jingling coins.

The long walk back homeward

all that was leftover from the past years work;

a needle, a knife and some jingling coin;

it was in Autumn.

M is for Murder (on the Orient Express)

I will not give spoilers for Murder of the Orient  Express. I will not! (fights to insert Tommy Wiseau joke here) "Oh.Hai Mark!" Dammit, I lose...

Sorry, if you don't get the joke (but not really sorry, cause it was funny).

Anyway...today is murder day. M is for Murder on the Orient Express written by the Grand Dame of Murder. Agatha Christie is pretty much considered the queen of the murder mystery and has written a few in her days (33 novels and 54 short stories with Poirot alone). Two of them have even been turned into successful plays; one is STILL running at St. Martin's Theatre in London. Yeah, I know a bit about The Mousetrap, having directed it. I wrote a bit about during the late winter of 2015. Maybe I should do a ful post about it sometime. But, I did a blog post for And There Were None, the other famous novel turned play by Ms. Christie for the A to Z Challenge in 2015.

Now is the time to talk about her other famous murder mystery, on a train, in the snow, in the mountains, and all alone. Murder on the Orient Express that has been made into a number of number movie featuring the likes of Albert Finney (1974), Alfred Molina (2001) - that was a surprise find, David Suchet (2010), and now Kenneth Branagh (2017) as the quirky Belgian detective with zee leetle grey cells and a knack for solving the unsolvable crimes. This time he may have meant he match.

As for other actors who have played Poirot, and there are a lot, check out Book Riot's Kathleen Keenan, A Guide to Onscreen Versions of Poirot. I stumbled upon this one by accident. :-)

Murder on the Orient Express is an ensemble cast, where it is not just a singular person that stands out, but the whole cast. Okay, that is as far as I get with spoilers, but the real reason I enjoy the Orient Express is because it doesn't give you everything right away.  It lets you savor the story and the characters, quite a bit different than other Christie mysteries where the focus is on a few characters, and the rest of supplemental characters to forward the plot. That isn't bad thing, but it makes things interesting on the Orient Express.

Do you have a favourite Agatha Christie mystery, Dear Readers? Not counting Orient Express, I am partial to The Mousetrap, Death in the Clouds (which feels like Orient Express at times), or The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.

Now for some poetry...Enjoy!

How about some murder?

Once there was a train,

famous in name more than anything.

Drawing everyone to ride the length

of two continents and many mountains.

Famous in name more than anything;

when strangers board for the Orient,

of two continents and many mountains

and a little man with a wild moustashe.

When strangers board for the Orient

and gather together to break bread;

and a little man with a wild moustashe

asks for just the right egg, indeed.

And gather together to break bread,

before the night's respite begins

asks for just the right egg, indeed 

and meets his fellow travelers.

Before the night's respite begins

and the murder most foul appears

and meets his fellow travelers

with violent stab wounds.

And the murder most foul appears

and collects its suspects like carousel rings

with violent stab wounds; 

to begin to suspect every and all passengers.

And collects its suspect like carousel rings

in a deadly ring around the rosie;

to begin to suspect every and all passengers

includes Poirot's little grey cells.

In a deadly ring around the rosie

and a little man with a wild moustashe

includes Poirot's little grey cells.

Once there was a train.

K is for Knots (on a Counting Rope)

I was a Reading Rainbow kid. I knew the theme song by heart, and almost all the episodes, especiallyKnots on a Counting Rope, written by Bill Martin Jr and John Archambault. It also had LeVar Burton camping by himself, which I don't remember as well as the story.

when they were put in re-runs on WNED 17 (my local affiliate in Chautauqua County). The episode featured is

It is the story of a native american boy and how he learns to cope with his blindness. He was born on a special night; a special omen appears to him and his grandfather in the form of two blue horses. That becomes his name, Boy Strength of Blue Horses. The boy's grandfather tell him this story and each time a knot is added to a counting rope. When the counting rope is full, then Boy Strength of Blue Horses will know the story well enough to tell it himself.

A beautiful story and with the most exquisite illustrations.

Did you know that Bill Martin Jr. didn't know how to read until he went to college? Taught himself to read by poetry books at Emporia State University. He also went on to get an Master's and a Doctorate in early education from Northern University. Not bad for a boy from Kansas, eh?

Bill Martin Jr is the brains behind the Brown Bear, Brown Bear style books with Eric Carl.

Today's poem is an hommage to Knots on a Counting Rope; and a little bit of a retelling too. Do you, Dear Readers remember Reading Rainbow? Do you have a favourite episode? Favourite story that was featured?

Tell It Again

'Tell me the story, Grandfather.'

'You say that so often my boy.'

'But you tell it the best. Please?'

'Alright, but only one last time.'

'You say that so often my boy,

tell me the story of my birth.

Alright, but one last time,'

"It was a dark night...wild storm..."

Tell me the story of my birth.

The wind was crying for you;

It was a dark night...wild storm

it was a strange night indeed.

The wind was crying for you

and when you arrived, it was suddenly silent,

it was a strange night indeed,

until the blue horses arrived.

And when you arrived, it was suddenly silent

and so they stood in front of you.

Until the blue horses arrived

we did not know of your fate.

And so they stood in front of you

nuzzling your fingers as you reached out;

we did not know your fate

except that you would have to cross dark mountains.

Nuzzling your fingers as you reached out...

But you tell it the best. Please?

Except that you would have to cross dark mountains...

Tell me the story, Grandfather.

J is for James (and the Giant Peach)

So, James and the Giant Peach, a novel written by Roald Dahl in 1961, but I bet you didn't know that he helped invent a valve (the Wade-Dahl-Till valve) that help alleviate pressure in the brain. His son, Theo has hit by a taxi cab and suffered from hydrocephalus (water on the brain). He had also received head, nose, and and back injuries while in the Royal Air Force in the 1940s. I bet that was part of the reason he was keen to help his son years later.

It has been a few years since I read the book, so I hope the poem is enjoyable for everyone who has either read the book, seen the movie, or have heard of it. I like the concept of evil aunts, a giant peach, and an epic adventure with insects.

What is your favourite Roald Dahl book, Dear Readers? I am partial to The Witches or Fantastic Mr. Fox myself. Enjoy!

Just Peachy Adventures

Imagine if you can, there was a peach

that grew so big that it rolled away

down and down the high topped hill

and with a splash feel into the ocean.

That grew so big that it rolled away,

carrying with it a band of travelers

upon the adventure of their lives

away from the evil Aunts Sponge and Spiker.

Carrying with it a band of travelers;

a spider, a grasshopper, an earthworm, and ladybug

away from the evil Aunts Sponge and Spiker,

and one little boy, James.

A spider, and grasshopper, an earthworm, and ladybug

aboard a floating peach, quite impossible you say!

and one little boy, James

catching birds to fly further away.

Aboard a floating peach, quite impossible you say;

to some who don't believe that

catching birds to fly further away

is even more fantastic to believe.

To some who don't believe that

down and down the high topped hill 

is even more fantastic to believe--

Imagine if you can, there was a giant peach.

Update on Progress / Prose: Winter Tunnel

Wandering down a tunnel, cold and damp. The mud squelches and echoes around me. It feels like I am in a huge cavern, but I know its a tunnel, and I have been walking for a long time.

from MorgueFile

My feet feel heavy as I lift them up and out of the mud, only to be draw back in the quagmire of the muddy recesses. I don't like being here, but here is where I am. It wasn't always this way. I remember back when the sunshine existed and I was warm. 

That was July, I believe.

I got sidetracked while traveling. That happens sometimes. But never like this, with tunnels and darkness. I wish that I could get back into the sunlight, but it feels like months, or eons away.

Squish.

Squelch.

I start humming a little song, something that I don't remember, but I am walking a little faster. In time. In beat.

Beat. 

Beat.

Beat.

And suddenly I don;t realize that I am in a dark, damp, and cold tunnel, because I am singing, "...rise to the fear, face the inner dark, and the light will.." I sing, getting lost in the melody. When I look up, I see the light, a much larger circle, though still in the distance. 

Maybe it's not so far away, I think, skipping along the muddy roadway.

Dear Readers, sometimes I get so caught up in the daily, in the tunnel, that i forget I am on a journey. Winter, as I spoke of before is so hard, hard for a lot of people, me included. Once again I found myself in the middle of a dark tunnel, but this time I refused to stay there. I have to fight. I have to walk. Because if I don't then I won't get out of the tunnel. I have been outside of the tunnel before, and I will return there again, but right now I need to walk, one step at a time.

In the mean time, I am beginning my journey to published author. First, I just got word that one of my two poems were chosen for a local anthology of poems on Gender and Sexuality, titled "Gender Truths". There's a reading next month and this will be in physical print. This is REALLY exciting!

So, now I have to work on getting these pieces of fiction published. I have chosen four short works that I have revised and sent out to beta readers, and then revised some more. Now it's time to start submitting them. There are in a great place, ripe for submitting. Maybe I will need to revised and/or more, but at this time it's time to try another round submissions. If I don't get my name out there, how will anyone know who I am. Right?

Other business, I recent had a Sooper Sekrit Project that I had been working on. It's time to admit what I have be doing. I last month I write on my own, four Welcome to Night Vale scripts. It is my current obsession, and am going to be seeing them live in April. SQUEEEEEE! Anyway, when I started writing these scripts I hadn't thought much beyond finishing them. Well, there are done. And I went and submitted them (afterward I checked the website FAQ). I don't know if Jeffrey and Joseph will read them, but I did what I set out to do. In the mean time I have posted them to my Deviatart Page for fans to enjoy, and I plan to do a table read with my Night Valian friends this spring.

Also, I have two children's books that I am going to get published somehow, either this year, or later and maybe self-publish if it doesn't go through the regular means. I am working on that, nd as it involves business stuff, I m taking it slow. But, it's only February 9th and I am a (NOW) a thrice published poetry (the last two were on calendars).

Yup, that is going to be my 2017, editing, revising, and submitting, maybe a little writing to keep the juices flowing.

What have you been up to, Dear Readers?

Choose Your Own Adventure: Quest for the Holy Grail of Muses or Creativity Grail

It's story time, Dear Readers!

Once Upon a Time it was February. The first of February, a Wednesday (okay, some of this is based on truth), the middle of week. The barely covered grass  boasts green brown, stunt grass, and little else. It is a very boring, sad sight.

That's how I am feeling.

They say that the third week in January is the worst part of winter, especially here in the northern wastes. Okay, that's an embellishment, but as my friend Jack often says about where he grew up in a little town North of Corning, NY, it is the great northern snow wastes (or something like that). I will have to pay royalties to Jack now. Great!

Well, anyhow, it's the first of February, and honestly January, while it's rough and utterly disgusting. Trust me, I have lived in New York State for thirty seven years, and in most of that time, well January is SHITE! Utter crapastically shite! The cold, the wind, the snow, and the bleakness that rules everything. It's bad! This means, Dear Readers, that if you are not engaged in a hobby, job, or some mundane task, then you are forced to try to figure winter out. Often it is too cold, windy, or light out to do much of anything. And many of you, myself including suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, in possibly additionally other mental type disorders.

So, I am currently in a battle, Dear Readers!

Truth, I suffer from fear of complacency, and actual complacency. If I am not currently doing something, I don't do anything, and then am left feeling terrible about my lack of productivity.

It's like I'm on a quest for the Holy Grail of Muses, or the Golden Calf of Creativity, and while on this quest I decide that staying in bed and binge watching She-Ra is a better option.

No don't get me wrong. Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu are all great, but there is always this nagging little faerie (think Navi fro Zelda) yelling at me with high-pitched shrieks.

I'm on this quest and I find myself facing the Lazy Beast of Netflixia, a far away, and that loves to attack innocent travelers. Well, on this first of February I met this beast and it my attempt to slay it, found me at the mercy of my bed, warm blankets, and two sleeping Beasts snoozing next to me. I have put down my sword and pressed the button,

Three hours later I was still in the familiar lands of My Bed, and the sleeping Beasts are gone. I pick up the mantle of intrepid traveler, adventurer, and continue to seek the Grail of Muses. Further down I find a kindly gentleman with a pack of books. He agreed to sell me a magical tome. After a moment of bantering I now have a tome of literature and make my way to the nearest tavern where I am greeted with a cheerful smile and a hot cup of stimulate. There is another hour wasted, and I have in a cold half drunken cup of stimulate and no Grail.

You can see where this is going, right, Dear Readers?

I picked myself up and fill my satchel full of supplies and leave the tavern. Again going out into the frigid cold, the deadened landscape to seek my query. Only I am left wandering the well worn paths seeking clues to what I am looking for. What am I looking form? I don't even anymore.

Yes, there is a point, Dear Readers...

I wander down into the valley. There is a familiarity to the land, and I can't help feeling that maybe this is what I was looking for before. There are many buildings in the village, but I find the one place that I have always know, always gone to, and relied on. It is a tavern, but this time as I am walking up to the front door, the overhead sign  depicting a chalice of steaming liquid, I open the door and it's warm and the familiar smell of caffeine and baked goods. I have come home. The sleeping beasts are far from here, the charlatan's pedaling easy answers stay away. And I sit down only to realize that I had the Grail with me the whole time. Before I know it, I have a story sitting in front of me.

See, Dear Readers, there was a plot to this story. Simply, I know what works when I am feeling like I'm in a rut, or the Winter Blues are attacking. Sometimes you just need to take that moment to see why you are not happy, and then do it. Thus doesn't mean that I will always feel this productive. Some days are really hard, and my life is VERY different than what it was a year ago. What worked before, may not always works, but if I don't try, if I don't make an effort, then I won't know.

Winter sucks, especially here in the Great Northern Snowy Wastes, but it doesn't have to take me out everyday. I can battle it and win. Sometimes I give in and binge watch She-Ra or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But other times, especially when I don't go into work because it is slow and there is nothing for me to do, I do need to go on quests for the Creative Grail, because otherwise I might not have written this blog post / story from you now.

What I do~~~
I love to read books. I just finished a re-read of The Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica by James A. Owen, working on finishing the Inkheart series (halfway through Inkdeath). I do community theatre and have lines to learn for a show that goes up at the end of April. Also, I am working on getting published this year.

Leave me a comment about what you do to beat the Winter Blues. How do you fight the sleeping beasts or the charlatans of Netflixia? Or if you need a lazy day, because you've been extremely busy, what do you do to relax and unwind?

Personal Piece: Broken is Beautiful!

I recently read a post from The Bloggess about being broken and finding beauty in that brokenness. I found a few things around the house that are broken in someway shape or form and wanted to share them with you. The Bloggess inspired me to look at the broken. For instance, my roof has a section of sagging shingles and worn out dormers. I have a appointment to fix it, but in the mean time I give you Busted Shingles!

Also, I am not the most garden, or green thumb savvy. I have let my flower beds turn into mini jungles. I am perfectly comfortable with that, but selling a house means making things look pretty. There is also the derelict lilac tree.

The poor thing needs help. Yet, there is something beautiful about the empty branches holding sway over that side of the yard.

I am broken, but i am still me.

This is a year of big changed for me. I feel broken. There is an internal hurt some days, other days I am joyous and happy. When asked, I say that I am at 80 to 85% happy. It snot bad, but it makes a weird roller-coaster of emotions.

As a writer I thrive on words, beautiful language to describe things, elucidate my responses to the world, and spark thoughtful considerations. But lately it has been harder to put into words what I am feeling. This is my first attempt to put down my thoughts into something coherent.

The missing piece.

Dear Readers,

I am broken.

I am hurt.

I do not like to share this with many people, but share I do share with those in my inner sanctum sanctorum.

There are pieces of me on my floor. Crystalline shards, glinting in the sunshine, and in the lightening speckled sky. I reach to pick up a piece and  cut myself. I bleed. Blood flowing in rivulets across my feet, floor, tears spilling out and watering down the viscous fluid, pulsing out with each heartbeat.

Maybe, this is what I am. Maybe this is what I'll be. A Phoenix rising from the ashes after the pain has left.

I can still walk, Mom!

I am not depressed, in the clinical sense, but I think I have developed a temporary case of it. Is that even possible. Some days I cannot focus very well and I want to bury myself in my blankets. There is a strong desire to stay in bed and not interact with the world. I don't want to tell others about this (maybe it is shame, a stigma with mental health issues, or maybe I just want to cocoon myself and heal.) Its nothing to be ashamed of, I think. I still go out, hang with friends, make plans, do theatre, I just need time and days when its just me and the cats. Everyone is different. And everyone's mileage is different. And then the days start not hurting so much.

This week I discovered a few things, first, hurting is natural and something that one has to do to heal. Means sometimes you cry, or sometimes you go and play putt putt. Second, the things we fear will not necessarily happen as we think it will. This is the result of the Fraud Police fault (called that by AFP fans), also known as the What-ifs, Inner Demons, etc. When they start talking I should never listen. Its very hard some days. They are very persuasive, but I am learning that what they say is never the truth. My heart, gut, and cockles say so. Third, I should learn to live my life for me. Be my own person.

There's more than that, but that is the core of the thoughts running gambit in my head as I write this.

I know many of you, Dear Readers, may actually be confused about why I am writing this post and what I am feeling. I will explain. Last year my husband (now ex) and I mutually decided to separate. We had become distant as lovers, yet were still friends. Then in February of 2016 we filed for and became divorced in March 2016. It was and is completely amicable and much relief to the both of us. Throughout the process we talked, discovered that we were in different places. It didn't hurt as much as I thought.  I already knew we weren't going to last, but I wasn't ready to admit it. We both agreed that we were better friends than lovers. We discussed the future, the selling the house, finding separate places to live, and starting over. This means that changes are still happening at the time of this blog. This means that I have to learn to be single. This is why I am broken. I am not used to being single and living separately. We were together almost 17 years. Its hard. But, I am learning to find me again, to be happy.

Broken Clock stuck in Time.

In this journey you will find so much...I keep finding pieces of me that I had forgotten.

Sometimes I am sad.

Sometimes I am happy.

I am broken.

But, I am beautiful.

I will not always be broken, or maybe I will, but I will learn to love the broken pieces and the beautiful pieces.

The pain alone is worth the fire because becoming a Phoenix after the Fire is beautiful, even when I hurt.

For now, I live one day at a tie. David is my friend, actually a best friend (and now ex-husband). He has his life and I have mine. Learning to separate him and me, this is really hard, but its the path I am on. I won't always feel like this and I am learning. Getting better each day! And after all the introspection of the last 6/7 months (and more to come no doubt), I realized this is the where I am supposed to be. A few small things, "Pain is Weakness leaving the Body", "Love and compatibility are not the same thing," "Catastrophe is merely a course correction.", and "Your gut is stronger and more correct  than anything (except maybe the cockles)". That last was all me, BTW, Dear Readers. :-)