How Do You Like to Go Up?

first line of a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson

Our Ms. Matlock has created a combo picture and word prompt for this week's Saturday Centus. How clever is that?! 110 words of poetry or prose will complete the assignment. And by the way, don't you love this cool sign from her Etsy shop? I have several in my house and even had her make custom signs for my family Christmas gifts last year. 

But I digress. Below is my response to a prompt that is close to my heart. (I love to go high!)

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 How do you like to go up in a swing?

Pump your legs or be pushed?

Take it slow or take wing?

How do you like to consider the sky?

Safe and sound, from the ground?

Perched in trees, eye-to-eye?

There's no right or wrong way to take in the view.

Embrace, grace, or chase life.

It's all up to you!

{just make sure that you do}

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Light Me Up

I haven't participated in Jenny's Saturday Centus for a while, so I thought I'd get back on track by responding to her picture prompt this week. I'm a little late because of a baby shower at my house that ended up lasting well into the afternoon (so much fun!), but now I'm ready and rarin' to go. Here's my take on lightning today...

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Light Me Up

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

When lightning strikes, it calls to mind

the scintillation that I find

in all those buzz sparks you ignite

the moment you burst into sight.

Your voltage hits me like a brick,

lights me up like a candlestick,

leaves me glowing like the moon,

fries me like the sun in June.

What is this sizzle that you bring?

My head goes POP; my heart goes ZING.

My lips burn red; my blue eyes blaze,

and all the world's a fiery haze.

You're smokin' hot, and that's no lie,

a rocket booster to the sky.

A first-class hazard; that's for sure.

But I ain't lookin' for a cure.

;)

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Let It Be

Missed Saturday Centus yesterday because I was helping our son move into his new house. He is a first-time home owner, so it was a big deal! Hope Jenny will take my assignment a day late this week. ;) The prompt, as always, is in red.

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Let It Be

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

She walked on crystal now, laid footprints carefully to cushion every step; pitched her voice softly, so as not to jar the room. Beneath her breath, she raised snatches of music: sweet notes, welcoming and warm; sometimes, she paused to feel the beauty. Her hopes? Set free in brilliant bursts of light, sent heavenward on wings of prayer. There was no prayer, no vow, she did not offer.

At last, the ship she waited for flew sails; was in the harbor, safe and sound; but would it find its way to shore? If thoughts grew hands, she’d set that anchor deeply, bury it in fertile sand, but nature had to have its way. Hers would not be the final say.

But for two golden weeks, this dream was close enough to capture if she could; and she would sing that sailor home, lift high a candle, calm the sea. “Oh, let it be,” she whispered softly. “Let it be.”

Take hold and sleep my child, and peace attend thee.

Written for someone I love very much who is waiting to hear the results 

of her in vitro fertilization. She knows that I am adding my prayers to hers.

♥♥♥

Summer of '74

I didn't get my Saturday Centus up yesterday, but I'm hoping my friend Jenny will forgive me for being so tardy. The prompt, as always, is in red below.

Summer of '74
©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

It was the summer of 1974,

and he had never felt before

the restless longing of his youth

for something to hold up as truth.

The war was as over as killing could be.

He made it home but not home free.

His college friends, with lives well-planned,

tried hard but did not understand

his aching need to get away,

to keep the memories at bay.

His parents pled with him to stay.

He left as if he had no choice...

explained, but no one heard his voice.

Miscast as a stranger in his own home,

he took his strangeness on the roam;

risked too much, so he could feel.

Only in nightmares was he real.

Undone, he fled his childhood street,

afraid of friends he dared not meet...

a ghost of himself and incomplete.

He beat a path through five long years

then slipped and fell into his fears.

Truth came in waves, broke into tears.

This was the story of more than one of my peers,
I hope that those afflicted have since found peace.

Til Death Do Us Part

Well, I just waved good-bye to a carload of our kids and grandkids, and I'm missing them already. Thank heavens for a bit of Saturday Centus distraction to ease the separation. (As always, the prompt is in red below, along with the 100 words Ms. Jenny allows us to add.)

My response comes from a tragic

 news story that headlined AOL today. 

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Til Death Do Us Part

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

We met in Lompoc County, when a back road was the only way to get there. She was fifteen, bright as sunshine, walking straight toward me in that red dress with a crown of curls to match. Never thought she'd talk to a bumpkin like me, and I was right. Took three weeks of persuading before she'd ride out in my old pick-up; even then she wouldn't say much. Later I found out she was shy.

Couldn't believe my luck when she said yes. Never knew a sweeter bride, and she stayed that way. My Ginger did everything for me until the MS took over; then I did everything for her. I wanted to. Even this last thing.

Neither of us made any speeches. Our fingers entwined like ribbons of light, we said good-bye. 

Her eyes were smiling when I pulled the trigger.

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Pretty heart wrenching, any way you look at it.
The true story can be read here.

beDEVILED by EGGS

 I've missed participating in Saturday Centus for two weeks and am mighty glad to be back for this fun picture prompt by my good friend Jenny. (For more poems inspired by this photo, just click on the link provided above. )

 

beDEVILED by EGGS

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

Whenever I'm in search of feed,

a deviled egg is all I need.

This worries me, because I fear

it's angeled eggs I should revere. 

Would it be blaphemy to say

that deviled yolks, far and away,

are more divine than angeled types?

Hey, truth is truth, but holy cripes!

Might I be smitten with a curse

if I reveal, chapter and verse,

that deviled eggs are my delight?

The notion fills my soul with fright.

 (And yet, I'll risk another bite.)

Don't judge me. I won't sell my soul.

I shall eggs-act exact some self-control.

;)

The Bright Side

Can't say this photo looks much like my grandma, but I like Jenny's 
Saturday Centus prompt anyway because it gives me a chance to talk 
about one of the best grandmas ever! (The prompt is in red.)

The Bright Side

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

My grandma always told me

attitude was everything.

Each point of view was mine to take:

my choice to sigh or sing.

Whenever I was feeling blue

or found myself bereft.

She said, "Don't dwell on what you've lost;

embrace whatever's left."

The bright side found her every time.

Her heart was open wide.

She gathered sunshine where she could

and carried it inside.

My grandma braved her share of storms

but counted herself blessed.

Be grateful for the things you have;

forget about the rest.

=)

The Go-To Girl Got Up and Went

Couldn't let the day go by without trying my hand at Jenny's latest Saturday Centus prompt. Regrettably, I exceeded the 100 words allotted, but I'm hoping she'll forgive me if I promise to be a very good girl next week! The prompt, as always, is in red.

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My favorite teacher told me in my youth:

"You'll always be a leader; that's your truth."

This left me feeling special, even proud.

I'd often thought the same, though not out loud.

I liked to bite off things most wouldn't chew

and chew them, just to see what I could do.

I was the go-to girl, and I still am.

Ya got a problem? Cool, let's fix it. BAM.

But lately I've been running low on juice.

If life's a battle, should I call a truce?

Although surrender chaps my DNA,

a little R&R might be okay.

At home I am a queen, but where's my throne?

My loving family can't leave me alone.

Each mother in our PTA adores me.

Now I'm the president, which nearly floors me.

My part-time work has grown; they think I'm GREAT.

The boss pays double...begs me to stay late.

But I'm already driving in fifth gear.

I signed on for a job, not a career!

Am I a hamster running on a wheel?

I wish I could pretend it's no big deal.

What's that?...Will I direct the school play? Gasp.

(Now I've officially reached critical mass.)

I'm done. Kaput. Don't ask. No mas. I'll pass.

 ©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson
The Go-To-Girl Got Up and Went

 

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Litho-trips(y)

Just got back from our vacation, and I'm doing double duty with my Saturday Centus today. Because I missed AlphabeThursday, I will be combining the two for your reading pleasure. The prompt, as always, is in red below.

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Litho-trips(y)

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

Trials trouble all who travel.

Obstacles get in the way.

Large as mountains, small as gravel,

struggles clog up every day.

Let the river flow, then follow

where its fearless waters lead.

Keep your channels clear and hollow,

open to your every need.

Walking down life's pebbled highways,

blast those boulders or get burned.

Rock the rocks that block your byways.

Leave no kidney stone unturned.

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click below for more L posts

Dark Side of the Stars

I'm a little late with the Saturday Centus this week, but I couldn't resist Jenny's combined picture AND word prompt (in red, below). We are expected to use both to tell a story in 106 words or less.

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Love has an underbelly.

(Yes, my darling, even ours.)

There beneath the hearts and flowers

lie the burrs and scars.

No passion worth its while escapes

a wound that pierces deep.

Love makes promises...too many

 promises to keep.

Life diffuses black-and-white

to marbled shades of grey.

Love is perfect; love is kind...

Love has feet of clay. 

So gather every tender glow

like fireflies in jars,

and light the sky as proof against

the dark side of the stars.

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Fruit of the Vine

Saturday Centus has rolled around again, and today Jenny has asked us to respond to the tomato prompt pictured below. In her usual magnanimous way, she has allowed us 100 words to make our mark.

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Fruit of the Vine

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

 

I am yours and you are mine,

grown together on the vine

of life and love and days well spent,

formed and fed by blessings sent:

Sun and rain in heaven's measure,

elements of pain and pleasure,

rising up and reaching down,

seeking sky and breaking ground.

Give and take, bitter and sweet,

nature paints a work complete.

Opposition yields the force...

turns our leaves toward the Source. 

Holding fast to God's own vine,

I am yours and you are mine.

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The Birthday Girl: a microfAction

Jenny's Saturday Centus prompt really moves me this morning because my own mom is 85 years old, and I feel grateful. I remember her turning 80 with much joy, but I also remember feeling no small amount of trepidation as my beloved mother became "someone in her eighties." How could it be? 

Five years later I have learned to just go with the flow and leave my mother's continued blessing of longevity in God's hands. That's where it belongs, after all, and He can be trusted. In fact, I am assured that the very hairs of her head are numbered, and not one of them will fall to the ground without the Father (see Matthew 10:29-30). So I guess He's got the situation well in hand.

The little story below isn't exactly how I felt...maybe I embellished it a bit. But when my mom turned 80, I definitely began to appreciate the time I have with her in a whole new way.

 Love you, Mom!

(the prompt, as always, is in red below)

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 The Birthday Girl

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

My mother turned eighty today, and I haven't quite liked it. 70 didn't phase me in the least (her own mom lived to be 83), but moving into this new decade makes me uneasy. I can no longer deny that the woman who gave me breath is aging...cannot even pretend her years aren't piling up faster than I want them to accumulate. Time stops for no one; I know. But can't an exception be made for my beautiful mom?

Oh sure, we all got together, ate cake and Mexican food, celebrated merrily. 80 years is a blessing––a milestone she handled with grace, her middle name. 

Less grace from yours truly. I can't sleep tonight. (the clock's ticking)

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And a Little Child Shall Lead

I'm back to Saturday Centusing again, and happy to say so! Our Lady Matlock has graced us with a picture prompt today, along with 100 words to make something happen. (Sorry it's not in first person, Jenny. I started out that way, but couldn't quite get the poem to say what I wanted it to from that viewpoint.) 

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And a Little Child Shall Lead

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

Until time wrests it from their grasp,

our children hold the world in their hands.

Until life takes their hearts to task,

their arms extend to other lands.

Why is it that, as we grow tall,

the world we see becomes so small?

Why must we lose that childish view

and shift our focus to the few?

Who are the losers in this game

of you for you and me for me?

Is there no end...no one to blame?

Are we content to let it be?

When all is said and all is done,

we are God's children, every one.

Let us remember and be freed

to look beyond our present need

and follow where a child can lead.

"The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb; and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them."

Isaiah 11:6

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Christmas Con

 

Here I am, two days late with the Saturday Centus. (But hey, at least I got one done, right?) I'm so busy this month that even my blogging is suffering. Seems like I'm lucky to post a couple of times a week. Anyway, here it is...100 words and a picture prompt. Thanks, Jenny!

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Christmas Con

©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

Beware the charming Christmas squirrel.

He gathers nuts and such.

His look is soft and fluffy, but

don't trust the rogue too much.

His scampering about is

calculated to confuse.

Those button eyes, that bushy tail

are but a clever ruse.

And now he's wearing Santa's cap

upon his scheming head.

Do not be fooled, my friends. He should

be viewed with creeping dread.

I'm outing him. Right here and now.

The rascal wrecked my ceiling.

He chewed right through without a thought,

devoid of Christian feeling.

Look at him! All up in our faces,

acting like a saint.

He's just a fat rat with a tail,

and don't you think he ain't.

A June Wedding

I'm attending a baptism in less than an hour, so I've gotta get this Saturday Centus done in a hurry! Thankfully, Jenny has eased my way with a phrase that got my creative juices flowing pretty well this morning. She has given us 100 words plus the prompt (in italics, below) to get the job done.

 June Wedding

 ©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

"Thirty days hath September,

April, June, and November."

This I muttered to myself,

pulling pamphlets off the shelf.

My eyes teared up at thoughts of June

(my daughter's name) and all too soon

her wedding date. It can't be true.

Just yesterday, the kid was two!

I'd saved brochures and books galore

but now I yearn to bar the door

and keep her under lock and key

(or send her to a nunnery).

How did the years fly by so fast?

I thought this day would be a blast,

but it's a bust. My heart may burst!

That's why I choose June 31st.

=)

PS. I should clarify that this is not autobiographical. My daughter married at the age of 30, so we had lots of time with her. When the day came to choose her wedding date, I was nothing but delighted.

A Eulogy in Five Words

I admit to being a little late with my Saturday Centus today, but I got all caught up in writing my annual Halloween poem for the grandkids (soon to be posted)...and then it was time to watch our SF Giants win the third game in their quest for the pennant. Such an exciting time for all of us in the Bay area! Anyway, as you can see, Jenny has given us a picture prompt today, and for some reason it took me in a prose-y direction. A 100-word limit doesn't quite do this lovely photo justice, does it?

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A Eulogy in Five Words Pumpkins

© 2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

Sadie grew up loving pumpkins, and she knew her way around one, too. Why, that woman could scrape the insides of those curious orange globes and make pie or soup or custard or cookies as pretty as you please. She even roasted the seeds for good measure, though she gave those away more often than she ate them, wrapped up in cheesecloth bags and tied with ribbon. Sea salt was the secret. Our Sadie always did favor a personal gift, one she could make with her own hands. And if nature helped out a little along the way, so much the better.

I loved her for the way she loved me. Without reservation, and frequently with pumpkin pudding.

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I Only Have Eyes for You

Ms. Matlock seems to be in Halloween mode with her Saturday Centus this week, a picture prompt that speaks a thousand hundred words, because that's all we're allowed. 100 words to make sense of the worst case of red-eye I've ever seen. (Couldn't you have photo-shopped this out, Jenny?) Ah well, ours is not to question why. Ours is but to do or die. Here goes:

I Only Have Eyes for You

©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

The glow of your eyes make me weak,

and the way they reflect on your cheek

sets my whole heart a-flutter

till blood-starved lips stutter,

"Come kiss me, you fabulous freak!"