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

Mon Apr 28 18:08:07 UTC 2014

Robert,
How thrilling that you will do this.
I am in the midst of a lesson right now. Venu is about to show me how to
reply to an e-mail, and not have to spell check all of the back and forth
messages that went before it, because the spell check box makes me do it!
More later.

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: Monday, April 28, 2014 10:08 AM
To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
Subject: Re: [stylist] Pocket Prose, too? RE: Poem in Your Pocket Day, April
24

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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