The Note

Bring in rose, it said.

I looked at my note to myself from earlier in the day, and my mind said, Who is Rose?

Then my brain went searching and turned up an image of an old schizophrenic lady I'd once cared for at a psychiatric hospital. If Rose was going outside (or inside, for that matter), she first turned her raincoat completely inside and out. The coat was a must, in any weather. Her umbrella was a must too, and she dutifully opened and closed it three times before making her transition in or out.

You can imagine my surprise when my brain conjured up Rose and tried to parse the command to bring her in.

A moment later, I laughed out loud. Bring in rose!

I had bought a little red bush-rose way back on Valentine's Day, and I've been planning to transplant it outdoors. In an effort to tackle my GDD (Garden-Deficit Disorder), I'd tried to prepare the rose for a smooth transition from house life to yard life, by setting it outside in the daytime to get some sun, to "harden off," and to develop an immunity to the cat next door.

Unfortunately, the first day I did that, I forgot the rose and left it out all night. It only lost about a third of its leaves as a result.

To steel myself against further mishap, I penciled a reminder-note on the second day of my battle for the roses. Now I read the note again. Bring in rose. Why yes, I can do that, I thought. Though, for good measure, I considered opening and closing an old umbrella— as a charm to make sure we'll get red roses come June.

On, In and Around Mondays: Red Ribbon

This is what I love about writing in place. Wherever I am, I can write. I am always somewhere, and there is always something nearby.

Tonight it is a red ribbon I have put in my hair.

I can't remember where the ribbon came from. It is cloth, with a black plaid design interwoven. It is just the littlest bit daring— more for the fact that I have put it in my hair, than for its color. Ribbons seem like such a girlish thing to do.



It occurred to me recently that my life is far past girlish days. For instance, when I stand at the ballet barre, with my unrecognizable fifth position, I am not there because I ever hope to be a ballerina (little girls dream that), but because I dare to stand there, and I want to stand there, and standing there is teaching me new ways to move and think.

When I hear music now, I feel it in my limbs. I see myself moving in pirouettes and arabesques, with arms held in a circle, or out like delicate, curved wings. I am not really capable of moving like that (yet?), because it takes many years to develop all the skills that look so simple but are in fact very, very difficult.

Still. Tonight I have put a red ribbon in my hair, and red lipstick on my lips. I am holding my ballerina head high and smiling. Because it took growing up to find myself here.



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On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place. Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below.

If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)

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The Find

Where does your writing come from? Where does mine come from? This is an especially important question when we're feeling a sense of writer's block.

For a while I've felt I couldn't find poems anymore. So last night I sat down and thought about where I've literally been and what I've been doing. I let myself feel certain sadnesses I haven't been willing to embrace. And this was when I finally found my poems. I wrote and wrote last night. Here's just one, appropriately called "The Find."

The Find

To me, it is just
a cave— a bouldered space
held dark against this mountain.
To you, it opens
dreams of dragons, pink and green
as the dragon-scale shoes
I bought for you just yesterday,
knowing it would be too soon before
you came upon this place, only to find it had become
just a cave... an empty bouldered space.


At the Cave photo, by L.L. Barkat.

Because this photo tells a story, in my mind, I'm also offering it for Three From Here and There's Storytelling prompt...

On, In and Around Mondays: Getting Things Done

The blue and white book sits to my left, on a table with makeshift tablecloth (floral on white fabric several yards long). I am lazing on the porch, morning sun warming my legs. My ivory socks literally say, "I am calm," in purple block letters (that's another story about a catalog order mix-up).

It is true that my legs and feet are calm, set on a folding chair, facing light-tipped hemlocks. But my elbow, which is dangerously near the blue and white book is practically twitching with stress. When I am finished writing this, I plan to rescue my elbow and my neck (which is also tightening at the very thought of what lies between those blue and white covers).

This is a rebellion I cannot explain. But it is real.

To my left sits a best-selling book called Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity, and my upper body is all in a twist. Last night I glimpsed the contents— phrases like Getting Control, Five Phases, Setting Up, Reviewing, Next-Action. Like black plastic knobs (turn, turn, turn), they upped my stress level about five notches. I closed the book almost as soon as I opened it.

Blue and white are two of my favorite colors, but on this book they are battling with the purple-lettered declaration of my socks. There is only one course of action, which involves a return-to-the-library book pile. Now I put my pen down, get it done.


Hemlocks photo, by L.L. Barkat.

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On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place.

Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below. If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)