Muddy

I dream of getting good and muddy

sometimes. When I reach the end of a spreadsheet,

I wonder when was the last time

I let my bare toes squelch around in mud.

I know I did regularly

when I could use the excuse

of having young children, too squirmy

for any tidy activities. A little muddy

play always left them satisfied

and ready to nap afterwards.

I've gotten muddy with guests,

charmed by the sights of my county,

who wanted to feel that famous red clay for themselves.

I’m getting to that glorious age

where I don’t need to find excuses.

Peculiar old women don’t apologize

for a beloved clash of colors or

filling up all of the spaces they fancy.

There’s some fresh tomatoes in the house.

There’s good mozzarella in the fridge.

I have enough to make a sandwich

to take to the creek on my lunch break

so I can play a little in the mud.

Song Choice: Mud on the Tires by Brad Paisley

This poem was created for the prompt at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads: Just One Word - Muddy It's also linked to Poets United's Poetry Pantry 482.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Izzy Lives! Blogging Around with Rommy Week 20

I dulled my true spark

until I found the right flames

to dance my truth in.

Liner Notes for this Groove:

I am finally back at home after visiting Ms. Wicked herself, Magaly Guerrero in NYC for a long weekend of general shenanigans, including a visit to BookCon.

There shall be cackling! And tostones! 

It is perhaps fitting that the author who pretty much lit the fuse to my life-long love of reading, Mr. C.S. Lewis, once said, “You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.” My love for tea is only exceeded by my lust for books. Magaly, her Piano man, and I roved through the con like pirates eager to drag home their weight in books and other assorted booty.

One of the best things about BookCon is bumping into kindred spirits.

No, not these guys, but I couldn't pass up this fun photo op at the Nos4a2 display.

It happened over by The Strand’s booth (the biggest book shop in NYC). I was running over to the pins to help Magaly in her quest for awesome shirt décor when I bumped into a young lady who had come to the con on her own. She was a huge Leigh Bardugo fan, and when she found out there would be copies of her newest book available here before it’d be available anywhere else, she knew she had to get to BookCon. She told Magaly and I about how she saved her money, pleaded with her mom not just to let her come, but to drop her off at Staten Island (which is still a fair distance away from the Javits Center), so she could make her way here to get her treasure.

This isn’t all that unusual for a lot of self-described geeks. (I drew on a pretty similar sentiment when I created the character of Izzy, the hard core book nerd from the short story “Just Perfect” in my collection, The Trouble with Wanting, and Other Not-Quite Faerie Tales). We get pumped when we can talk about our favorite fandoms and authors who we follow the way other people follow rock-stars. At a con, you are literally surrounded with a small mob of like-minded folk, all giddy at the chance to be as nerdy as they want to be.

The geekiness is strong in this one.

So talk to me Groovers—did you get a chance to indulge in something that delights your spirit recently? Was it something mainstream or a little off the beaten track? Tell me about it in the comments and if you have a cyberspace you call home, pop it into your comments so we can talk a little there too.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: I’m the One That’s Cool – The Guild

So Sweet, I Could Choke

It started with a scent. I was waking up from winter and had barely begun to bud, so I could only speak in creaks as the wind flowed around my branches. The smell was so heady, it threatened to put me back to sleep. But the buzzing of insects helped pull me from my torpor.

“Bees?” I croaked. “Am I late?” My buds tasted the cool air—no, this was the right time for bees though they never were this attentive so soon after the winter.

“Hush,” whispered a voice already flush with flowers and green. “No, you’re just fine. You can even sleep a little more. I’ll keep you warm.”

The wind blew again, but I was too tired to answer. My branches stirred slightly, and I could feel the weight of growth not my own. The scent flowed around me again, and I slept.

When I fully awoke, I ached to my sap. My promising buds had grown into spotted leaves, but they were strong enough to speak to a thriving patch of green on my biggest branch when the wind blew.

“What are you?”

“I’m part of you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Of course I am. Can’t you feel it?” The branch tingled with the flow of energy through filaments binding the new green fast to me.

“You were only a bit of fluff, blown onto my branches last year.”

“And you were once an acorn. Things change.”

Autumn came. I held on to my leaves for as long as I could. I heard the creaky sigh from the new green as the last one fell. It had spread to all my branches by then.

“You are part of me,” it said before we both slept.

And in the spring when the wind moved through the leaves again, I spoke with a voice that was no longer my own.

Song Choice: Circles by Kira

Liner Notes for this Groove: I'm in NYC for a long weekend visiting a dear friend (and for BookCon!). I couldn't help but notice a hauntingly beautiful scent on the wind near one of the city's large parks. When I commented on how lovely it was, one of the NYC citizens informed that it came from a pretty parasite that's been taking over a lot of the local trees slowly, but steadily. They bloom early to get the lion's share of the bees' and other pollinators' attention and spread a lot like dandelion fluff. I was told that the parasite even changed the shape of the leaves of the host tree eventually. When I finish up with BookCon, I want to find out more about this smothering beauty, including its name. But I find an extra level of creepiness in not knowing.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

This short fiction piece is linked to Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads Art Flash and Poets United's Telling Tales with Magaly Guerrero. 

Beauty Forgotten in Survival's Eyes by Eli Edward Evangelidis