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

Robert Leslie Newman newmanrl at cox.net
Tue Apr 29 02:49:49 UTC 2014


Myrna
RE: Good question! 

WOW, I really do not think it has one. In Nebraska we do not. Membership is
based on interest, people who have interest in knowing, in supporting
concerns of seniors who happen to be blind. Much like membership within the
Federation itself...think of it, we have many sighted members....we all have
interest within this area of life.

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Myrna
Badgerow
Sent: Monday, April 28, 2014 12:22 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

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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