What's in YOUR Basement?

I've found some strange things in my basement at times, besides the usual assorted spider and creepy crawly. While housesitting recently I found something downstairs that put my dislike of spiders in perspective. Luckily, I was warned in advance about the residents of the lower realms.

I love African wildlife. I really do. But my exposure was mainly through pictures, video, and the occasional trip to the zoo. None of that gives you the true perspective on how big some of those animals really are. Now I know. So, considering myself informed, I decided to document one of the scarier residents of the Belowlevels.

Which begs the question, what's in YOUR basement?

Poetry Thursday 7/26

The random prompt generator strikes again. My word was 'vista'. Tempting as it was to take Bill Gates to task; I resisted and tapped my love of the past instead.

Historical Fragments

by Constance Brewer

My favorite things are old and gray
antiqued, dead, and gone,

although I cannot touch them now
their ambiance lives on.

A picture perfect memory,
of a place I've never been,

built up by books and artisans,
lost music from within.

Poetry Thursday 7/19

This is what the Random Prompt Generator had when I stopped by. ZeroGravity. Since I already have a short story in the works set in space, inner spaciness came to the front and demanded its due. A bit difficult to wrap a theme around, and I think I overreached in one instance, but using a prompt was a good exercise once I made myself do it.


Zero Gravity

How egotistical of you
to assume lack of resistance
to your gravitational personality
was the only reason to stick around, although
I admit at first the push-pull of our relationship
was an attraction. Surely you knew free fall
could not go on ad nauseum. Here I am,
dropping over the horizon at a constant
rate, hoping against hope that I gain
enough speed to stay up, to reach
escape velocity. That I haven't,
yet, is no reflection on you,
just the weight of your
self-containment.

Gnome Hunters

The Corgis were online reading blogs (who knew?) when they happened to scent the Procrastination Gnome™ hanging around Scott Oden. Being sympathetic beasties, and companions to faerie folk, they did what any red-blooded, short-legged dog would do.


They went outside for a rousing game of "Fetch".
.

Despite Maximus' "Point Me At 'Em" stance, one flip of the tennis ball changed his priorities. After all, chase and retrieval demands skill and concentration, the kind that hones abilities for Gnome hunting. Afterwards, the Corgi Brothers came in the house for a biscuit and a nap. Then another nap. They'll get on that Procrastination Gnome™ hunting right after supper. Well, maybe after another game of fetch, and another nap. You can't rush these things you know.

I'm also afraid I insisted the Corgis hunt down the Procrastination Gnome™ living in my own home before helping others. I suspect he has been holding late night brainstorming sessions with the Plot Gerbil™, because the wheels were spinning wildly, hence the three half-completed short stories I'm jumping between. One is set in 483BC, another in an urban fanasy world I never want to visit, and the third on some alternative plane of existence - but only if you hold your breath.

Luckily, just the 483BC story allowed the Research Gnome™, (cute but insidious little brother of the Procrastination Gnome™) to get his ink stained mitts on me. I successfully kept him away from my Amazon account (One Click was invented by a Gnome) and actually got the story half written before he pulled the alternative plane of existence idea out of.... an orifice.

My Ending Gnome™ is vacationing in parts unknown, so I'm forging ahead without her. If successful, Gnomes everywhere will cower in fear at the thought of writers doing something without them. As long as no one finds out where I hid the Muse, I think it will be okay.

If not, maybe I can distract everyone with a game of Fetch the Plot.

Poetry Thursday 7/12

A very short poem for Poetry Thursday. Can't tell I've been playing with haiku of late, can you?


Waterfalls

Liquid
forms,
water
wells,
voices
cross,
tear
drops
swell.

The
point
between
gather
and
fall
a
heart
........beat.

Mug Shots

I was playing around in Painter and decided to start making mug shots of some of my characters for one of the fantasy WiPs. This could be the female protagonist, but after looking at it a while, I think the woman I have in mind for the female lead is a bit younger, however, so I'll have to do another picture and probably use this one for a different character.

A Poem for Independence Day

Dispatch from Tikrit

Now that you're
gone,
our connection
is reduced
to paper,
entrusted to
strangers.
Cuneiform
without clay
tablet.
I unwrap each
letter
as if it were
the flag
of some rebel
organization.
I imagine you
do the same.
Sifting for clues,
a pencil finger-
print or gunpowder?
Sweat
or Tigris water?
In the folds
I find a grain
of sand.
6000 miles
and eleven time
zones wedged
between us.
Our relationship
filters
through with-
out dimension,
a modern
archeology.