Same Planet Different Worlds

Putting My Feet In The Dirt Prompt  #1Moon scraped knuckles and knocking knees

Pablo Picasso – Girl with a Mandolin

Parts of me that still work

my legs, my arms, my fingers

I have to bribe them on some mornings with drugs

to do their jobs


My face, my eyes, my crooked jaw

not good for much

except for maybe nobody spends much time

looking at me to closely


My voice, my brain, my heart

sit in their cages of bone

and ride around without a care in the world

for me or anybody else.


There’s Probably An App For That

RDP Monday- Glimpse

Joan Ponc

Adoree Buckwalter used to sign up for every single craft class that the community center in town held during the Spring.

You could learn to keep Bees or you could learn embroidery. There were classes on painting landscapes or houses. You could take classes on chocolate making and cake decorating.

But the classes that Adoree enjoyed the most were the sewing classes.

She had mastered the art of quilting and cross stitch, she had even learned to make stuffed animals and then she took a class on doll making.

That when Adoree discovered she had a talent for making dolls out of just about anything- clay, cloth, wax. It didn’t matter. No matter what she used Adoree created the softest, the most intricate dolls you ever saw.

When Adoree walked into the craft room and she saw all of those boxes and baskets full of yarn and string and little squares of fabric and beads,  a little rush ran up and down Adoree’s spine.

She’d gather her materials and then she would find a place to work and when she was done there would be a little figure sitting in front of her.

It was like magic.

Joan Ponc

Adoree loved her classes and she loved making dolls and her little animals but there is one little thing.

She wasn’t  particularly good at it.

Unfortunately their stitching wasn’t always even and sometimes her figures little arms and legs weren’t sewn onto their torsos with a lot of accuracy so they were sort of misshapen.

Sometimes their heads were a little to floppy too.

Still it didn’t matter. They may not have looked like much, but they felt sturdy. Indestructible even.

Joan Ponc

On Saturday after the classes had wrapped up the students were invited to display their handiwork on the long tables set up around the room.

Everyone made little displays for their crafts and Adoree was jumped into her display with enthusiam.

She just didn’t have an eye for it, so her dolls  were surrounded by little glass animal figures and silk flowers and candles that didn’t have a lot to do with her dolls. But the result was pretty if not a little odd.

One that last Saturday Mrs. Burandt three teenage daughters left her table ( which would be hard for anyone to do because Mrs. Burandt had been taking classes on Candy Making ) and they wandered  up to Adoree’s table.

They slowed down and glimsped at her table and then the stopped.

They reached out for her little cloth dogs with the button eyes. They pat the heads of the little cats with the beaded faces and then one girl picked up one of Adoree’s dolls.

She held  Adoree’s doll, ” I would have thought  you needed an app to make learn to make these.”

” An App? Why? ”

” Voodoo Dolls are cool. But I wouldn’t have thought people would go to the Community Rec Center to make them. Anyway. I do like them.”

Adoree held her hand out for her doll. ” Thank you. ” she said shyly

” Well. They are pretty amazing. You should sell them. I think they would make people


Adoree thanked the girls for stopping by and as they walked away she held her doll up to her face and whispred into it’s ear. ” I don’t think making people happy is the idea. Do you?”



I May Have A Situation Here

Linda G Hill’s  prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “MAY.

I really struggled with writing last week.

I may have had writer’s block or I may have just been uninspired.

All I know is, none of the words I came up with wanted to work together- little bastards.

Do you know what I did have?


They were whoppers.

I woke up screaming because I thought I was dead and that the rats were coming to eat me. But of course I was still alive, but the rats didn’t know it.  I had  dreams about an evil witch outside my window scraping her grotty yellow finger nails up and down my windowpane- every time I thought I had woken up and  and she thought wasn’t really there I’d hear that scratching again

You would think that with stuff like that I would grab my notebook and scratch down some images or something, but did I? No. I did not, because those dreams were kid stuff.

I decided to surf around some Museum Gallery sites and I came across a series of pictures taken by drones and Eureka! I think I found out what happened to my ideas.

This guy took them:

It’s a creepy clown in a muddy cornfield.

I’m not afraid of clowns, I have no feelings about them one way or another, but I do know there’s a whole urban legend around creepy clowns.

The  Urban legend says that Creepy Clowns try to lure kids into the woods, they show up on street corners and menace people.

But I  don’t think that’s what is going on at all:

I think they steal ideas and stories. Maybe they grind up Muses and eat them for dinner. Maybe the Creepy Clowns want to be the only game in town.

Chase away my monsters will you?

We will have to see about that.

There’s isn’t a muddy field on the planet where you can hide from me, my Mask Wearing, Big Shoe Clomping, story stealing friend.


I will find you. I will take back my ideas.

And I will write about you-