In August, 1985, I began my first semester of studies at the University of Central Florida. I had earned credit for English Comp 101 as a result of Mrs. Alice Wright‘s wonderful AP English class that was the highlight of my senior year of high school, so that first semester, I set my sites on Comp II. Awaiting me and many others there in a packed classroom on the UCF campus was Mr. Ronald Vierling. Over the arduous weeks that followed, he became my arch-nemesis, the chief disruptor of my life, and a frustrating symbol of many precarious aspects of…
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I’ve written here before about my “Ramble” creative writing project. On Dec. 30 of 2009, I sat down to write a Ramble entry for my late grandmother Beatrice Ridings, who was widely known to many as Granny Bea, Aunt Bea, or Ms. Ridings. I had two wonderful grandmothers who have now passed on, and luckily for me, Grandma Eileen Darnell, who we called Bam, was also tight with Granny Bea, so on more than one occasion, I was able to enjoy them both simultaneously. At long last, I have published a separate collection for Grandma Bam, and below, I am…
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Recently I was going through a folder I’ve held onto over the years, which has some of the poems I wrote the old-fashioned way, with a piece of paper and a pencil or pen, along with some similar keepsakes. Among the other pieces in the collection, my mother is a major contributor. She has always had a great way of giving things that feel special enough to make me want to keep them forever.
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I still clearly remember the time, place, circumstances, and even the paper that I wrote on, when I penned the following short poem over 24 years ago. I was headed to Champaign, Illinois, to complete the technical school component of my initial U.S. Air Force training. It was my first real freedom since my last previous airplane rides had delivered me from Orlando into Houston into San Antonio, whereupon my basic training promptly began. I recall finding it odd that I was scheduled to arrive on a Friday afternoon… but it was worse than I could have imagined.
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I learned today of the passing of my Aunt Maxine Ridings. Talking about her with my mom this evening, one of the things that came up was how she has just always been part of our family, forever. Also, for her nieces and nephews,
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“Not Tonight” by Roger Darnell The things I find entertaining aren’t things I can write about. I like to imagine stories about our cat, taming her world, unafraid and attitudinal, eccentric and, well, beautiful. Our other cat inspires her own happy go lucky devil-may-care cavalier and friendly tales… which are still just cat fancies. Romantic stories from Europe, South America and Pennsylvania Amish Country beginning to take pixel-life in my imagination, are hopefully the right stuff and will someday prove worthwhile things I will have written about. For now they’re still in the layer just above my vision, in a…
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Tomorrow it will be twenty-one years since I began writing the following poem. That’s another story, and perhaps, another post… maybe one for twenty-one years from tomorrow. I selected the poem this evening after searching through the spreadsheet containing an archive of my poems with the date I wrote each one, collection information, and a column for me to track reviews underway with publications. The document was put together at another time in my life and career, when I was more diligent in submitting poetry to prestigious print publications and presses. Not sure if this one was ever submitted…
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"There's a way of playing, when safe with favorite cousins, wherein we find extra bravado, which fuels our most colorful descriptions of personalities or lifeforms...."
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