get on with it!

I'm telling you don't do it, no kidding don't ..oh you did didn't you , couldn't help it could you , you just had to go ahead and do it
Look at the mess you've made now , its all over the place and you are sat in it as well, why do they allways sit in it?

I'm not cleaning this mess up you realise, no not doing it you are going to have to clean this one up all by yourself , last time you did this it took 2 weeks of scrubbing to get this place cleaned up.

Now you have gone and done it again , I'm not happy you know
I want this place cleaned up by tommorrow at the latest , you hear me
What was that ? Did I hear sorry? Don't think I did you know , you do know how to say the word don't you its not that difficult.

Look I've had enough of you, this had better be cleaned up next time I look or you won't play in here agian
What you don't realise, this isn't just your area you have messed up , its not mine either it belongs to everyone and I want to see you down on your hands and knees scrubbing this place clean , not for me for everyone else
You haven't just let me down but everyone else as well , we aren't happy not one bit

Now get on with it!

I'm posting this here as well so it will cross post too blogger/multiply

I'm wearing a bucket

just a bucket
nothing else
its got flowers on it
you can put fish in it
or a sponge for cleaning things


Its 5am here
I need to sleep but can't
I lie in bed thinking
brain going million miles an hour
what can I do next
how can I do that
I sleep for a while then the phone rings
or the snoring wakes me
Shouldn't even be on here now
should be sleeping but I can't
too much to do
too much too think about
Old magazines
New desks
Tattoo's
Elephants and Spawn
Not looking at spoilers of Lost
Want to know who wins American Idol instead
Want to know why that judge on that show doesn't take a happy pill

Think I'll be seeing another sunrise soon
Which is good in a way
means I'm still alive

Not that great

Sometimes I try to write but I'm not all that great my poems aren't good either, I can't just whip one up on the spur of the moment they happen sure but try to sit down and write one nope that doesn't happen, poems appear for me I can't make them appear they just happen

Writing is the same even though a "short" is something I can make happen they unlike poems don't just appear I make notes, I think over them..no I don't drool over them that's silly.
See I'm a popper when it comes to a "short" mostly if I think too much nothing comes out at all, if I'm interrupted which is most times the thought process stops completely that's why most of my stories are short which is amazing as I have trouble with ends ... don't know when to shut up ;)

So for me to be in a group like this one is like being in the "fast tracked" class at school, its difficult for me I'm a bit slow compared to the rest but at least I try
This week was Season of Change it had colours one of which I had to get out the dictionary to find out what it meant and it had to be melancholy or sad something I don't normally do either, most of my stories have a happy or surprise ending.
So here's me looking up the words thinking oh boy I can't make a poem appear and the seasons here are different so I'll have to do something 'left of center'
Anyway this was my thought process
Colours, multicoloured, reds browns blues = opals
Hard shell, reddish brown = the earth
Opals are mined where the ground is white, soooo that's no good **was slapping head at this point**
Gold is mined from dark earth and is found with quartz < -- YaY ... see easy (yeah right only took me 2 days to get to that *doh*)

This is my short..my short that took days

Mosaic of the fall

“I told you to shore that up didn’t I” the older miner said, the red dust mixing with his sweat making his face the same colour as the surrounding earth, he was now a tawny reddish brown from head to foot the only colour visible was his eyes the colour of a blue topaz

“You trying to kill us both?” he yelled at the younger man, he had only taken him on because he was getting older now the mine almost getting too much for him to work on his own, the younger man a son of a friend as he had no son’s of his own.
No wife would accept a miner as a husband clothes sepia like the landscape, his shell his miners shell as hard to break through as the land itself

They used explosives down in the cold hard earth, partly deaf now and going blind his eyes accustomed to the dark the older miner never really saw the seasons he saw rock, he saw gold he saw profit.

His life as it was, was coming to an end and the younger man would be his legacy. The younger man who picked up a rock saw the beauty that the older now did not see; he saw the colours he saw the seasons of eons in the rock. He saw the dust falling from the ceiling of the mine, like tiny pieces of the older man falling away his life his work slowing drifting down, he saw but his shout was too late another slide another fall, fell between him and the older man.
As he emerged dusty, covered in head to toe an almost invisible object on the pock covered landscape a tear rolled down his face turning brown as it rolled across his face he wiped it away with the back of his hand leaving a smear on his face

He muttered sadly “He never saw the colours… he never saw them”

At the Window

Dana writing challenge

“Why that little girl is in that house and what happened”

For Dana…..

Hey mom you can see for miles from up here this is cool mom, mom, hey mom, where you go mommmmmmm

Pardon honey what you say

You can see miles from up here mom

I know that’s why I love this place, so high up on the hill always used to come here myself when I was small with my parents your grandparents, when the place wasn’t like it was now of course back then it was beautiful no weeds grew in the garden, the walls covered in a pretty wallpaper and red curtains hung at that same window you are at now magnificent rugs covered the floor and almost every weekend they held huge parties carriage loads of people arrived, the grooms in their red uniforms leading the horses away and bringing them back at the end of the night

“Careful honey you might fall”

The girl leaned a little further out of the window

Part of the windowsill suddenly broke away and fell onto the floor, startling her and making her fall back into the room tripping over the broken slate floor

“owwwch, mom I hurt my knee”

Told you to be careful didn’t I

“Yeah I know mom I know” the girl cheekily grinned back “what happened here anyway mom why is this house like this now?”

“Well honey I’ll tell you come sit here beside me and we can eat our picnic right here in this room, this is where it started you know the fire caught hold from a dropped lantern the oil spilling across the rug and over the curtains there was nothing anyone could do the interior of the house was almost totally destroyed in a matter of hours this part the shell was saved but no one wanted to live here any more.”

“Well I can see why, there’s nothing much left now apart from the view” the girl said sadly

“See there was a scandal in this house the master of the house was caught in bed with one of the downstairs maids, the girl of course was dismissed but Mister Smith got into a huge fight with the lady of the house I’m not sure exactly what happened but I heard that he killed her and buried her in the cellar” her mother whispered.

“Oh mom he did not she’s still alive and living by the sea, Miss Melissa told me that”

“By the sea well then she can’t be buried in the cellar then can she I do know that they did have a huge fight because I was told you could hear it all the way down into the town then there was a crash and after that the house could be seen on fire.

Do you think its Mr Smith that’s buried in the cellar? We could go look you know” her mother asked her tipping her head to one side and raising one eyebrow.

“No mom I don’t think so, you can but I won’t be I’ll just be very careful and look out of the window again I want to think about how this place was back then, the parties the dresses and the music it must have been a wonderful place”

“Yes it was wonderful honey unless of course you where murdered and buried in the cellar” her mother said giving her a wink.

“Oh mom you are such a joker” the girl laughed as she helped her mother pack up the picnic things
”its just an old half burned down house now but I kinda like it as it is I can imagine what it was like all those years ago and look out of the window and ….

Hey mom I can see our house hey mom, mom where you go MOM “ the girl yelled but her mother had gone.

Gone out through where the magnificent wooden main entrance doors once stood but now where just an archway covered in the leaves of some vine, her mother was walking home it was almost time to start getting dinner ready

She knew the girl would come running up after her shortly, she always did.

The Book

The Book

She very carefully removed the fragile book from inside its glass case, wearing gloves so as not to mark the pages as books now where a rarity now only seen by visitors to the museum and only then under glass in controlled conditions

The book itself wasn’t so special there where other paperbacks in the museum other books written by other authors but this book was special

The author was famous most books by the literary greats had disintegrated over the years very few copies survived, others that had survived didn’t have the special touch that this author had.

She had changed the world through her writing not just one book but many, stories thoughts, poems and questions posed, she changed the world and how people saw the plight of not just her own people but many all over the globe.

She bought the community together in gatherings reading, thinking and discussing her ideas her thoughts.
Even though that was many years ago before the sun started to go out making the bright days of sunshine and warmth a thing of the past her books still survived, survived because of her special contact, survived because of who she was, survived because she touched them.
The museum worker carefully turned the page to the next one so the visitors could read it, delicately placing the book back under the cover she wiped the glass and very lightly wiped the brass plate in front of the case

it read
”Dana Dane – She found her voice and spoke to us all”

Where do I live

Where do I live, a writers union challenge January 12, 2007

Y!360 Writers Union

Where do I live.

I don’t live anywhere interesting like a reservation, with
strange objects pointing too the sky and alien landing craft in the middle of
the town.

I don’t live near a beautiful harbor

But I do live in the middle of a place where bushrangers
once roamed,

where the soil is red, the sky blue,

the sun a bright orange ball at sunset,

the moon a face in the night sky

A place of diversity a place of many cultures

A place of distances and long car trips, a country whose
animals differ in size from the smallest penguin and the whales are larger than a
house

A country where thongs are worn on feet and stubbies are
kept in eskies

, where meat is minced and

Emu is not on the menu

I live in a place, in the future but not too far away,
where summer is winter and winter summer, where it snows in July

and December is hot

A place of states and territories and meeting
places

Of green and gold at cricket matches

Where we laugh at Kylie Minouge

Where we have secret clones of Sam Neil,

hidden away for the next Matrix
movie

Where do I live?

The middle of Australia, four hours drive away from snow
in winter, six hours away from the nearest beach,

where our cars wear yellow plates

and driving on the left is the thing too do,

unless you like the men in blue.

Some photos are mine, the moon is Gabi's others are from
Google, some are clickable too

As the Wter Rises

As the water rises .... January 28, 2007
360º Writers Union

Challenge 4 “A picture is worth a thousand words”



“You know I saw another dolphin today, I swear this one was carrying a briefcase”

“That’s your imagination Harriet” Edward grumbled as he staggered behind her with the groceries, yet again walking well wading was more of the word, they had abandoned using the car when the tyres started getting caught on coral, dang stuff was everywhere now, you had too be careful where you stepped too the coral was sharp and could go right through your shoes, shoes that squelched mind you, always wet, always the water, it was getting higher too.

The media said the water wasn’t rising but Edward could tell, I mean letter boxes don’t just float away, do they and his had, he had been looking out the kitchen window and saw the letter box just sailing away down the street it had looked like a turtle had it in it’s mouth but no that was his imagination that was, turtles didn’t come this far inland I mean when was the last time you saw a turtle in Kansas like never! Turtles don’t live in Kansas that’s just silly but then polar bears don’t either and Harriet said she had seen one going through the rubbish bins down by the grocery store. Edward had told her it must have been a vagrant some poor guy down on his luck wearing a white garbage bag there was no way it could have been a polar bear

“Come on Edward you slow poke” you don’t want too be missing the Jacques Cousteau special and I want too get home before these fish and chips get cold you know they go soggy if they are in the bag too long

“You know Harriet we just might have too trade in the car for a boat, the Marcy’s have one now”

“What do we want a boat for Edward?” Harriet gave him one of her sideways glances as she arranged the fish and chips on a plate “The water is going down the TV man said so”

No its not, there’s more water every day we have less and less front lawn all the time, how long did it take me too mow it on Saturday what about 10 minutes you know it used too take me at least an hour and I got all sand and pebbles on the blades this time too

You know if this keeps up we may have too just take that cruise and I don’t think we will have too go far for the cruise boat either listen

“Honk, Hooooooook”

That’s the TV Edward I think you watch too much Jacques Cousteau


And so while Harriet and Edward ate and watched TV the water continued too rise, it had been rising it wasn’t their imaginations, the fish where taking over, the arctic animals where migrating because as the ice melted and the sea rose they has no where else too go

Sometime in the near future Harriet and Edward would either be
a.Eaten by a polar bear b.Float away in a balloon with Kevin Costner c.Just plain drown d.Grow gills and turn into fish e.any or all of the above See results