[stylist] Pocket Prose, too? RE: Poem in Your Pocket Day, April 24

Mon Apr 28 17:22:19 UTC 2014

Great idea Robert!  
Quick question too. What is the age requirement for the Senior Division?

Sent from my iPhone

> On Apr 28, 2014, at 12:08 PM, "Robert Leslie Newman" <newmanrl at cox.net> wrote:
> 
> Jackie
> 
> I too read the story! It is a real kick! I like a surprise and thought
> provoking ending. I also took note of the age of the main character and
> thought that too was special. MMM, I'm going to copy and paste it into a new
> message and send it to the Nebraska Senior division list; bet they will
> enjoy it, too.
> 
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Jackie
> Williams
> Sent: Monday, April 28, 2014 11:49 AM
> To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
> Subject: Re: [stylist] Pocket Prose, too? RE: Poem in Your Pocket Day, April
> 24
> 
> Barbara, Thanks for reading this. I meant it to be funny. I am glad it hit
> the mark with you.
> 
> Jackie Lee
> 
> Time is the school in which we learn.
> Time is the fire in which we burn.
> Delmore Schwartz     
> 
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Barbara
> Hammel
> Sent: Monday, April 28, 2014 6:43 AM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: Re: [stylist] Pocket Prose, too? RE: Poem in Your Pocket Day, April
> 24
> 
> That is too funny!  Though, sadly too many scams like this go on.
> Barbara
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.--Robert Frost
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Jackie Williams
> Sent: Sunday, April 27, 2014 2:32 PM
> To: newmanrl at cox.net ; 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
> Subject: Re: [stylist] Pocket Prose, too? RE: Poem in Your Pocket Day,April
> 24
> 
> Robert,
> Prose in your pocket day? Why don't you assign your own date. Submit it to
> Poets and Writers and they might help to promote it.
> At any rate, I am not a fiction writer, however your suggestion, and the
> assignment from my poetry teacher, (subject: a skunk and a mailbox) made me
> spin a tale, rather than a poem. I was also remembering Miss Fee's story of
> how she was "conned." Since I do not have to worry about format, I will cut
> and paste. I hope my foray into this new genre does not doom me.
> 
> Mailbox, Inc. Flash Fiction 734 Words
> 
> A stylish couple parked their Cadillac, gathered their pile of mail and
> entered the Mailbox store with a cheery greeting for the friendly manager.
> After having the forty envelopes stamped and posted, The wrinkled, stooped,
> elderly woman opened their large box and extracted an unusual number of
> letters stuffed into it. The manager contained his curiosity at this
> thrice-weekly performance. He wondered why, with the return address of
> "Natural Fragrances Inc.", there were never any boxes mailed.
> Meanwhile, a tall man, living at "Top of the World," in a trailer behind his
> museum of rocks, minerals, precious stones, and his hand-blown glass,
> eagerly awaited the mail. His life was lonely, being situated between two
> copper mines in two towns where the miners lived. His wife gone, no children
> to visit, his appetites still strong, he met no women. Mail delivery was the
> high spot of his day. The box was located up front scarcely off the highway
> where mining trucks and all traffic between the towns moved around the
> clock, leaving road kill in its wake. Being  spring, even baby javelina were
> found.
> He got a newspaper bi-weekly, called "The Single Scene." Since he had no
> cell phone because of an out-of-reach signal, and no computer, he had taken
> to answering the intriguing ads by mail.
> He was surprised at the number of women looking for a partner, and was a bit
> put off by some of the more blatant ones. One, however, had held his
> interests, actually, much more than that. He had fantasized. She was
> beautiful in his eyes, old enough that he would not be accused of breaking
> the law, and dressed to show enough, but not too much, like the others often
> did. She had a business, "Natural Fragrances," developing individual
> fragrances using one's DNA and pheromones, crafted to seek out the man of
> each Woman's dreams. For him, she promised anything and everything to meet
> his wildest dreams if they found a match.
> Her last letter said she would visit him, but she was having some financial
> problems with her business, and could not come until she found a loan to
> complete her project and get transport to his home. She promised that in her
> next letter, she would impregnate her message with her own crafted scent,
> since all of her experimentation had been on herself.
> His curiosity overcame him. In his last note, he had promised a large check
> to cover the last leg of her research, and enough more for her travel to see
> him, upon receipt of her letter infused with her own sweet pheromones.
> The mailman pulled his truck as far off the highway as he could with the
> tall man's letter in his hand. He felt a bump, and quickly alit from the
> car. A skunk, still standing, turned tail up, and sprayed the poor man's
> face, clothes, and what he was carrying. Gasping for a non-contaminated
> breath, he quickly put the letter in the box, and drove to a place where he
> could strip and shower.
> The tall man, eager with anticipation, started to his mailbox sometime later
> in the day. Out of habit, he looked at the highway, and thought, "thank
> goodness, no road-kill today to clean up". As he reached in for a letter.
> Eyes smarting,  he could not even read the return address.
> Holding it out from himself, he deposited it outside his door for later
> reading.
> Several days later, not having received his awaited answer from his new
> love, he saw the one he had gotten several days before. He was finally able
> to tolerate the smell, and was shocked to find the return address. This is
> the message he found. "My Darling, with your promised help, I was able to
> complete the research on myself. I have immersed this note in this fragrance
> for several days. It contains a promise to you. Upon my visit, you will hold
> the length of me in your arms. I will be open and eager for your every move
> or need. I am insatiable, and will impregnate your bed with my aroma so that
> you can enjoy it, even for the time I might have to leave."
> The tall man, picked up the note carefully by the corner, carried it to his
> potbellied stove, opened it, and tossed it in the fire, along with the
> latest issue of the "Single Scene."
> 
> Jackie Lee
> 
> Time is the school in which we learn.
> Time is the fire in which we burn.
> Delmore Schwartz
> 
> 
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Robert Leslie
> Newman
> Sent: Friday, April 25, 2014 4:57 AM
> To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
> Subject: [stylist] Pocket Prose, too? RE: Poem in Your Pocket Day, April 24
> 
> Jacky
> 
> Those poems were really interesting and good. MM, thinking now of prose...I
> wonder if there may be some pocket prose pieces that authors here could
> share with the list? (Yeah, pocket prose.... excuse my diction, flash
> fiction.)
> 
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Jackie
> Williams
> Sent: Thursday, April 24, 2014 10:42 PM
> To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
> Subject: [stylist] Poem in Your Pocket Day, April 24
> 
> Fellow Poets,
> My assignment this week in my critique group was to select four short,
> accessible poems, print and cut them  apart, and bring them to the senior
> center to put in a large bucket on the sign in table. Since there 14 of us
> in my class, if we each make ten copies of each poem, making 40 poems, that
> it is quite a few that might convince a non-poet that it is a worthwhile and
> enjoyable craft.
>         I have enclosed the ones I printed and cut apart. I did not print
> where they were published, and the amount of the award. That is just for
> your information to give you an idea of categories, where you can send them,
> and what you can earn.
> 
> Poem in Your Pocket Day           Jacqueline Williams April 24, '14
> 
> Indiana Third Place, 48 entries
> 
> Obituary
> 
> When I am settled down up there
> I'll have myself a holy tear,
> or when I'm fired up down there,
> I'll surely make the Devil care.
> 
> But if I'm not invited in
> because of godly grace or sin,
> I'll plant myself in earth with men,
> and grow to bud and bloom again.
> 
> Arkansas, 1st Place, $25.
> A limerick but very serious, called a Merickli
> 
> The Trigger Points of Nature Do Not Lie
> 
> Our earth sheds its tears, gasps for air.
> Our experts, denied, feel despair.
> The oceans may die,
> and forests don't lie.
> Producers of carbon don't care.
> 
> ASPS, Twitter Poetry, 2011, First place, 25.00
> 
> String Theory Made Easy
> 
> It seems
> I have a choice.
> Become an entity
> who's all unwound or one who's tied
> in knots.
> 
> Old Age  unpublished
> 
> When there
> is no place left
> to sail your boat-set eyes
> upon that arc of blue and stay
> afloat.
> 
> The two twitter poems are Cinquains
> Perhaps you all would like to try a short accessible poem for such a
> purpose? Are there more than eight poets in our group?
> Though the national deadline was today, Florida has done things like this
> for the entire month of April.
> 
> 
> Jackie Lee
> 
> Time is the school in which we learn.
> Time is the fire in which we burn.
> Delmore Schwartz
> 
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