Bumble Bee

In his black & yellow jail suit
Kindly pollinating the flowers
his swift approach unexpected
injecting his fiery venom
buzz buzz ouch

90sec-Bumble Bee

Buzz buzz goes the bumble bee in his black & yellow jail suit. Kindly pollinating the vast spectrum of flowers, while rudely injecting his fiery venom into the skin of humans. Deadly to some, but not to all. A swift approach, catches you off guard.

8/3 Object Writing

I couldn’t decide if I wanted to post this one or not, it’s not good writing or anything, just a trip down memory lane, sort of like my post on shoe polish yesterday. 10min-Wicker Chair

White wicker chair, tiny and small. Made for a child. With a matching couch covered in colorful pillows. A stuffed bunny on top, a friend for the young child to cuddle. So tightly woven and covered in paint. The arm rests and top twisted. the legs square. Smells of fresh wood shavings with a slight tinge of the paint. So light an adult could pick it up and toss it around, but to the child, strong and sturdy. A brown wicker chair that rocks to & fro. As the wind blows on the porch. A little old lady sits grumbling through pursed lips. It makes no sense to her what the world is coming to. Still she sits on her handmade wooden chair, while up in the air rockets & people in outer space. What will happen in the future she doesn’t want to find out. Already too much has changed in her lifetime. When she was a child there was no air conditioning & no colored TVs. No such thing as a cell phone or internet, much less, internet on a cell phone. And I’m brought back to the girl that was little ole’ me. Even me as a child mere decades ago also without some of these things. I was the last generation to call my friends without caller ID or ride my bike to their house to see if they were home. As a little girl in that wicker chair, how could I have known. Seems things change even faster now than they used to. What will the world be like when I am the old lady looking back on all the change in the world that has occurred during my lifetime.

8/2 Object Writing

10min-Robin (not very good)

The robin tweets in the soft morning sun. As the light grows outside & the world awakens. Three pale turquoise robin eggs. A tiny bird with a fat, round, protruding chest. The reddish-orange tuft of feathers on the belly a stark contrast to the baby blue egg it came from. The mama bird feeds her young with a worm from far away. She flies back to the nest to protect her young & them. Their ity-bity, squawking beaks turned to the sky in anticipation for what is to come. Will it be a crunchy insect, or some seed from the nearest bird feeder, or will they get lucky with a nice juicy worm? Batman & Robin, his second-hand man. I don’t know much about comics, except that DC & Marvel are not the same thing & Robin comes from DC. His uniform match the colors of the bird with his red top & tan cape. We sing of Batman & Robin in childhood versions of classic Christmas carols. But back to the birds as the mother gentle settles herself back over her squad for the coming night chill.

Shoe Polish

Unbalanced line length exercise

I’m a little girl again
shining my dad’s shoes
Scrubbing off the old scuff marks
moving back & forth
Dark & shiny bright and smooth
in a small round tin
Now days we throw old away
New is not always better
Don’t waste in haste

5min-Shoe Polish

Shoe polish like dark shiny healthy hair. Not like charcoal, more with brown undertones. In a small round tin. With a red rag for buffing. Silently scrubbing to get out the scuff marks. Not to gently, & definitely fast! The light chemical smell tickles my nose, but quickly reminds me of the new shoes’ fresh leather smell. Back & forth back & forth steadily. I’m a little girl again, my dad teaching me how to shine shoes. Now days we just throw old shoes away when they look worn & buy new ones. I’d say it was wasteful, but we always donate them. Sad though isn’t it? How we are so fast to give up on things & look for the next better object. Shows what society has taught us. New isn’t always better.

7/29 Object Writing


I didn’t post all of my writings from this week. One in particular hit a little too close to home. Today’s writing was not great, but I think it makes a valid point.

The microscope of the world is everyone’s watching eye. Social media is the culprit. With everyone prying into your life, & the more you put out there the more judged you are, the more people want to know. It’s not just some tan & black mechanical object you use in biology class to look at the golgi body inside the cell membrane. Not something nuclear physicists use to break down an atom. But the stench of hatred of others towards one another. Everyone is under scrutiny all the time. It has to stop! Where is the love? Why must people judge? Hearing rumors spread about you, people don’t even bother doing it behind your back anymore, they will do it straight to your face. Reading the gossip is almost worse than hearing it. When you hear it you remember it, but once it is posted it remains there for all to see for eternity. God watches from the clouds, to his enormous eyes we are tiny! We are once again, objects under a microscope. Only his eye is not judgmental, his eye is not harsh. He looks down with love for all. He knows every struggle so he shows mercy. The computer & other modern technology is the microscope watching humans. We are minuscule under its lens. We must find the strength to ignore the hate, we must learn to love within. Stop the hate, love┬áhumanity

7/26 Object Writing

I decided not to post my 5min OW on “Hotel” yesterday, because it was weak! But here is today’s mediocre 10min-Mud

Mud. Auf Deutsch hei├čt das Schlamm. Mississippi mud, the alliteration that spouts from the mouth of the river. Turning the Gulf water from crystal blue to dirty brown. After Katrina, everything covered in muck, the smell reeked for months! There is no way to describe that smell other than you had to experience it to know it, but if you ever did inhale those fumes, you will recall it at the drop of a hat. Mud puddles, dry dirt mixed with rain. Young children in red galoshes & yellow raincoats with hoods, under their see-through plastic umbrellas splashing about in the miniature shallow ponds without fish. Dirty mud pits for wrestling at camp, mixed with red clay. It gets in your eye & hurts so bad you think it might burn straight out of your head. The taste of the mud in your mouth, like the stench of the Katrina muck dug up from the depths of the Gulf of Mexico, unable to recognize without having tasted it yourself. Mud baths for elephants to keep themselves cool. They roll around and slinging it about with their trunks, fanning themselves by flapping their giant ears.

7/22 Object Writing

10 min-Sweat

Sweat trickles down my face as I stand in the blazing sunlight. Its rays beaming down on me burning my skin. The sweat runs in little rivers splitting off from one main source on my forehead. Salty rivers like ocean water, not clean spring water that often flows through tributaries. Picking up speed as it goes down, gaining more substance and rolling faster like a snowball. The aqueous like substance reaches my lips and tastes of saline solution. It continues on down, dripping from my chin, watering the earth with salty raindrops. Lightly seeping from the pores on my arms and legs and remaining body, leaving me glistening as if gently misted by oil. Pooling up into a little puddle on the small of my back. Dampening my chest. My ears are hot, singed. It smells of fresh cut grass and barbecue on the next lawn. I hear music blasting from my speakers. A hot summer day