Poetry, Short Stories, etc.

Memories of a Loved One

I'll always remember your smile.
Your eyes, so brown they were almost black.
All the different emotions that flew through them.
Remembering the smiles doesn't hurt as much
As remembering the hurt I put in your eyes.

You never knew how much I hurt,
Because I put that expression in your eyes.
I wanted to tell you at the time.
I knew, though, the hurt was too great.

One more hurt added to the pile,
The straw that broke the camel's back.
And now I know that love's got a fragile stem,
Breaking with just one casual, careless touch.
Healing into a different guise.

At once, I wished time could reverse,
Only one hour was needed to break the ties
that entwined your life and mine.
It's such a silly, selfish trait.

Wishing ...
The problem was not time.
It was me and we both knew it.


I wrote this about six years ago.  I can still remember the feeling.  I don't know how interesting this is.  I think I was even bored just writing about it.  That day was so b-o-r-i-n-g. The work itself was not, just the office I worked in.  The prompt came up on one of those prompt generators: “Where did you feel the most bored?  Write about it in an interesting way."

I opened the door to my office.  Instant boredom.  I am the only inhabitant.  I have worked there for two years and the furniture has not been rearranged since the day I got there.

The walls are dark paneled and the light is fluorescent.  The carpet is brown, a remnant special.  The cherry desk hogs much of the 8 by 12 foot room with 6 filing cabinets, a small stand and three chairs competing for the rest of the space.

I put a yearly calendar printed on white paper to lighten the space.  The cork board is covered with paper that I printed quotations and organizational aids on.  The space is crowded and there is little hope of relieving the situation.  I need all the file cabinets because they are my working files.

The desk is large enough that I can work with the files and papers and enter data without losing anything.  When I started work, the desk was against the wall.  It was pulled out when computer wires were installed and is still sitting where they left it 18 months later.

I have thought about rearranging so that my computer screen is not visible from the door.  I sit with my back to the door and people can stand and watch me work without my knowledge.  This is startling at times.  I talk to myself and it is disconcerting to realize someone may be eavesdropping, particularly on those occasions when I sing along with the CD I play.

I’ve spent many hours in this room.  It’s great to work in ninety five percent of the time.  I am writing, even though it is summaries and form letters most days.

Surprisingly, filing is not boring.  I have established a system that superiors have praised.  Once the initial file is complete, I only use them once per year so the newly activated files keep me interested.

This day I could not work myself out of the boredom that hit me when I walked in the door.  The feeling was intensified because several offices are being renovated and I have no idea if mine is scheduled for a facelift.

When the time came to clock out, I felt like dancing for joy at locking my office.  When I emerged from the building, the sun was shining, the sky was a nice turquoise blue and the space around me was incredibly huge.


Strong's Landing - by Mildred R Holmes
This is one of the landings we use when we go ricing. In the fall, the dock is set in the water. The weedy patch grows to fill in.  This is the scene of the adventure my son and I had during ricing.

This was taken during the Walk held on Sunday, 05 June 2011 at the Sah-Gii-Bah-Gah Powwow. My sister, niece and nephew and I took the long course around most of the village.

It's also on the regular walk that we take most days for the Native Hearts Fitness program. We prefer the outdoors to the treadmill.  Course it's spring, not winter.