April 30, 2013

ArtBrushed Watercolors-Photo Puzzle 8

Filed under: New Poems, Freeze Frame photography gallery — admin @ 8:28 pm

ArtBrushed Watercolors-Photo Puzzle 8

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(Photo by Mike Hall)

A true sign of spring is the arrival of the Monarch Butterfly as it flies North from a warmer Southern winter. This ArtBrushed photo is been transformed into a water color work. Click on the photo to get the entire photo, fit for framing. You might want to make a print of it, too. What is even better is that this picture is puzzle, and if you Click Here, you can go to this puzzle.  You may want to make a print first so you can see the whole ArtBrushed photo before you start the puzzle.  See how long it takes to complete the puzzle. Then use the back arrows to come back to the World of Words by Elias Tobias site for more.  If you want to start at another photo puzzle, go to Artbrushed Photo Puzzles.  This is fun!

Who is Elias Tobias? Go to his biography that is also in Spanish.

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April 26, 2013

Writing Roots 6 - College Bound

Filed under: New Poems, Exponet Newsletter — admin @ 8:36 pm

Writing Roots 6 -  College Bound

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This is the sixth “episode” of the prequel to The World of Words by Elias Tobias. It ends when I arrive at Ball State University at Edwards Hall for my freshman year of my bachelor’s degree. By the end of the senior year of high school, I was using a pen name, Olan dey Gabona, and used that until the early 1990’s. I had started making 5 x 8 inch notebooks I was assembling with typed poems I wanted to keep starting from high school and beginning at college. They have a brown cover, and I have six of them now. They were books that had pages with pre- punched sheets and I added the typed poems as they were written.

After a year or so, I would begin a new “book.” My first three books had to be retyped in 1980 when the woman I was engaged to at the time decided to keep the original books after we decided not to get married. At least I got $25 for a $225 engagement ring at the pawnshop in Columbus, Ohio, on my way back to Millersburg, Ohio, where I was working as a journalist. A life lesson. I hope she enjoys the books and looks at them every now and then. Below is a poem from my first “college years” book that was published in The Free Pen, Vol. 1, No. 3, a literary supplement to the Ed-Words, the Edwards Hall news letter. I see a trend here.

I Don’t Know

Strange places flashing smiling faces,
And I don’t know where to go.
Fun loving times are somewhere in between
The lines of the people I see.

I open my heart wide
And get what I can get.
Somehow, I keep living,
But I can’t believe in
Anything yet.

Have you read a good book lately? Find plenty of free books online at Mike’s Books Cafe.

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April 24, 2013

Share of my heart

Filed under: New Poems, Open Poetry Forum — admin @ 10:02 pm

Share of my heart

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Introducing  Seema Gupta

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Seema Gupta    (Courtesy photo)

Seema Gupta

She is recognized among 111 Top Hindi Women Writers of the 21st Century,  and was Published in “The Sunday Indian Hindi,” August 2011.

Her achievements include: Author of two Hindi Poetry books; “Vireh ke rang” published in May 2010 by “Shivna Prakashan” sehore (hindi) “Dard ka Dariya” published in Nov 2010 by A.I.P.C Khurja (hindi and Urdu)
and two management-related books.

She works as general manager in M/S NAVSHIKHA POLY PACK GURGAON (manufacturing PVC pipe and fittings), and has a Master’s Degree-Post Graduate (M.Com) year 1995.  She has major(s) accounting & finance, and has 18 years experience in her profession.

Blogs and website include:
http://mairebhavnayen.blogspot.com/
http://bikhreyseafsaney.blogspot.com/
http://loveneverloves.blogspot.com/
http://www.voicesnet.org/allpoemsoneauthor.aspx?memberid=1208420010 (for English POETRY)
http://www.youtube.com/my_videos?feature=mheepoetry)
http://www.anubhuti-hindi.org/anjuman/s/seema_gupta/index.htm
http://www.facebook.com/groups/jatiyoparty#!/profile.php?id=100001472328042

Here is the fifth of six poems by Seema to be published to the World of Words by Elias Tobias.

Share of my heart

Beyond the eternity of time,
someone unknown never met
I have discovered you from the
hidden treasure miles and miles away
beyond thinking and imaginations
I feel the fragrance of your entity
in my heart soul an body
where I find privilege to
feel you as share of my heart……..
always in my heart in every beat of it
between cold wind of lonely nights
i feel myself on rainbow and clouds
with flickering stars in my palm
moonlight showering around and
fantasy of this cumbersome view
provides me the chorus of your words
I take a moment to listen to you …..
and in respond I whisper in horizon
All the good wish from my heart
to my Share of heart…
to my share of heart…..

Do you have a poem that you would like to share? Submit your work to the Free Open Poetry Forum.

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April 15, 2013

Writing Roots 5 - The Bubble

Filed under: New Poems, Exponet Newsletter — admin @ 9:12 pm

Writing Roots 5- The Bubble

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This story, The Bubble, was originally published in Write On!, a literary supplement at Columbus North High School in May, 25, 1975, the year I graduated from the school.

The Bubble
“When is our father getting home,” complained Tom to Margaret. “I wish he would invent something for me. But he has to work on some top secret project for the government. He has no time for the family anymore.”
Margaret suggested,  “Why don’t you fix yourself something to eat before supper?’
“Come on,” said Jan, ”Just wait ‘till he gets home. I’ll race ya to the den. The last one down has to turn on the TV.”

When Margaret saw the smiling faces of the two kids, she smiled, too. Sooner or later she was going to realize the truth…” Mr. Gentry is actually spending more time at the plant than he spends with his kids,” she thought. Then in her usual promptness, she had supper prepared in time for Samuel’s arrival time.
There was a problem though; Samuel wasn’t home. In this familiar family problem, Margaret did the best she could. That was to feed Tom and Jan, help them with their homework and sometimes tuck the kids in bed. Whenever Samuel came home, Margaret would fix his late supper. Then Margaret left to come back early the next morning to care for the house and children.
“Hi, George,” exclaimed Samuel as he walked toward the underground elevator. “ Hello Charlotte,” greeted Samuel as she and Samuel walked into the elevator.
in the elevator going down, Charlotte asked, “What is your top secret project? Everyone I know is curious about it, especially me.” She ended this inquiry by a big smile and a cute wink. As the door opened, their identities were checked by computer. Walking out Charlotte said, “That’s me, nosy knows.”
“You’re so right,” agreed Samuel looking at the scientist’s hips move. A smile appeared on his face, but it disappeared as fast as it came. He started walking happily toward his lab, for his “top secret” project was nearly completed.
As the doors closed, this seemingly plain man transformed himself into a combination of a human computer and a top grade robot. In a course of twelve solid hours work, Samuel had completed his project. He was prepared to tell the world of his discovery.
Ironically, he was to tell no one until… the government allowed him to tell. The government had all rights and patents to the material produced by all the scientists of the plant. In a few weeks, he was to meet with Mr. Whitecoat, the head of all research in the Naval forces in the Midwest.
The telephone rang with a distinct ring common only to the Gentry household. Slowly, but surely, Margaret walked over to the humming sound. “Hello, Gentrys’ residence… Oh, good evening to you, sir. Well, the children are in bed and sleeping like babies.” reported Margaret. When she heard the tired voice of a weak man, it had to be Samuel.
“It’s 10:00 o’clock, Margaret. It’s time you get some rest. During these past few weeks you have stayed up late to care for the house and kids. I’ll be glad to pay you a little extra…” insisted Samuel.
“But, sir, you don’t have to pay me extra for my work here. I get paid by love from you and the kids,” interrupted Margaret.
“I will be coming home my usual time from now on. I won’t have to work as hard, so now everything can be normal for a few more weeks,” explained Samuel.
“Thank you, sir. And my doctor will appreciate that very much. When you get home tomorrow, spend some time with the kids, especially Tom. 1 can’t really tell the difference between the engine cowl and the carburetor or something off an airplane engine for Tom,” said Margret with a laugh. “Bye, Mr. Gentry. The leftovers are in the refrigerator.”
“Bye and thanks a lot for all that you’ve done,” sighed Samuel. Then they both hung up.
When Samuel came home the whole house was silent except for the kitchen appliance humming a sad chord. Samuel was tired, very tired.  In fact, he forgot about the leftovers and went straight to bed.
Early the next morning the door quietly opened, and someone crept slowly toward the kitchen. Margaret sat on the stool for a minute and surveyed the spotlessly clean room. Slowly, but in her usual way, she walked up the stairs to awaken her employer and his children. From the time she finished telling them to arise to a new day until 9:30, the once somewhat quiet house turned upside down and backwards from the hurry to make ready the venture into the outside worked. Listen to some of the conversation in that busy hour of the morning.
“Good morning, Tom,” said Margaret briskly. “You should be getting ready for school.”
“I am,” answered Tom. “I am getting my bubble gum I hid from Jan. 1 sell it at school for five cents apiece, and I make three cents profit,” said Tom smoothly.
“Three cents profit!” exclaimed Margaret.
“Yes, three cents profit… one cent for the gum, one cent for tax, and three cents for me!” explained Tom.
Margaret laughed and said, “I didn’t know the state charged tax on that.”
“Well, you see, I have a license to sell gum. That’s where the government gets all its money, from little kids like me,” joked Tom. Then he turned away with the bag of gum in hand showing tan advertisement on the back of his T-shirt for his brand of gum.
“Last one down to the breakfast table has to eat the oatmeal,” teased Jan, as she and Tom slid down the stairs.
“The first one to get up will go to school first,” added Margaret who was at the bottom of the stairs. Upon hearing this, both of the children leaned back and pretended to sleep. After this time-wasting scheme was over, the kids raced to the table.
Aside from all the time-wasting schemes and jokes, the Gentry’s had a big breakfast and left to work or school on time. From 9:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. the house was turned inside out and cleaned into a brilliantly gleaming model home. From 3:30p.m. to 8:30 p.m. there was the same kind of running around and forgetting of time and general time wasting.
When the bus stopped in front of the house, the children ejected from the vehicle like a missile from its silo, both racing to their home, the stars. After that paced action, Tom and Jan sprinted to the freezer. Soon the two children strode to the den where they spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV.
“Good afternoon, sir,” said Margaret pleasantly. “It is a great surprise that you are home so early,” she commented.
“I am finished on my project, as far as I am concerned, so I decided to come home early. From now on, I’ll try to be home at this time,” promised Mr. Gentry.  Then he proceeded to the den. “Hi, Jan,” he greeted, “How was your day at school?”
“Fair. It was the usual thing,” answered Jan. I’m glad you’re home now! I wish you were home forever,” she added cheerfully.
Over in the corner of the room sat Tom pretending to be sad. “I think I forgot someone. Is Tom here?” teased Samuel. By the time he finished talking; Tom had jumped and landed in Samuel’s arm.
“Hi, Dad,” he exclaimed loudly. “Do you think I would forget my favorite son?” asked Samuel lovingly.
“Never! Never! Never!”,  yelled Tom excitedly.
Suddenly he dropped Tom on the sofa. The room quickly burst into a laughing avalanche. Jan begged to be dropped, too. This fun and games was good to all that participated because the weeks of lonely nights disappeared in all the laughter.
After supper that night the normal procedure of home work, bathing and getting into bed was broken when Samuel and Margaret had a brief but important talk.
“I’m glad this month is over,” stated Samuel. “My project has passed every test but one.”
“Mr. Gentry I don’t have to know what your project is or anything about it. I imagine you are not supposed to talk about it anyway,” interrupted Margaret.
“But Margaret, I ….”, begged Samuel.
“Mr. Gentry,” she addressed sternly, “I mind my own business and that is all!”
I’ll skip the details. My project is being tested next Wednesday. I would like to take Tom and Jan to see the publicly shown test. Should I?” asked Mr. Gentry.
“Yes you should. Now the children will see why you spent all of your time away from them last month,” answered Margaret.
A voice said softly, “Dad, I would like to see your test. I think Jan would like to come along, too.” The voice came from the stairs.
Samuel paced to the stairs. “Tom, weren’t you supposed to be in bed sleeping?” he said.
“Well, I just couldn’t sleep. Besides, I heard you and Margaret talk…talk about us,” explained Tom.
“You know that you are going, but Jan doesn’t. Let it be a surprise to her,” suggested Samuel.
“Okay, I guess so. I won’t say a word to her,” agreed Tom.
Margaret smiled when she saw the expression of happiness in Tom’s eyes. With his eyes shining brightly, Tom said excitedly, “Boy, will Jan be surprised.”
On Wednesday the usual race to the den was canceled, and it was replaced by a trip to the testing grounds. “Oh boy! I have never seen any of your projects, Dad. The kids at school ask me all the time about you. I say I don’t know. Then they tease me about being so dumb, and I don’t like that,” complained Jan.
Samuel added, “That happens all your life, so don’t be bugged by it, Okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” agreed Jan.
Soon they stopped at the testing grounds. “Where is it. I mean where is your project?” wondered Tom.
“Is it invisible?” suggested Jan.
“No, it isn’t invisible. Just relax in the car. Just relax …”, said Samuel. As soon as he relaxed to a nap, the children ran away from the car searching for the project. As Tom had just hid behind a big barrel, he heard voices. “Dr. Gentry is in his car waiting. Should we start now?” asked a mysterious voice. As soon as Jan Tom found this place, Jan did too.
“No wait until more people come. The more people, the greater the impact,” answered another voice. “Mr. Gentry is outside. Go and invite him in the block. He knows all the small details,” he continued.
Then the first man walked to Mr. Gentry’s car, but he forgot to lock the door as he left. Tom’s eyes and ears were catching everything being done. They slowly proceeded to the unlocked door. The second man’s back was turned so that he couldn’t see Tom and Jan. In hast, they hid behind something that happened to be a tall grey rectangular panel. As the children inched their way across the floor, they heard noises coming from a source nearby. It was just ahead of them, for Tom stretched his way up the grey panel.
Tom was amazed at what he saw - a million little flashing lights all different colors. He looked a bit more and noticed a big strong man charging toward them. “What are you kids doing here?” he yelled
Just then Samuel ran in the block and yelled, “George, what is going on? I heard you say ‘kids’ I think,” he inquired.
“I saw some kids snooping around the control panel. They pressed a few buttons, but 1 fixed that,” answered George.
“My children, Tom and Jan are in the car,” suggested Samuel. Soon the men were searching near the car. “I thought they were…”
“Help! Help! Someone help!” screamed Jan.
“I want Daddy. Please help me Daddy!” yelled Tom.
“In the block. They’re in the block,” yelled the first man.  The three raced to the block.
“Where are they? Where is Jan? And where is Tom?” Samuel cried. Oh, my God! They entered the machine to hide probably,” he said quietly.
“You mean your kids went in the bubble and something went wrong. Are they…?” thought George.
“NO! No! No! No!”, yelled Samuel. Then he slowly proceeded 1 the car crying. -
“Hi, Daddy!” exclaimed Tom. “I hear you but I can’t see you. I’m sorry, Daddy. I think Jan and I tested your bubble, I mean your project. It doesn’t work.”
“Where are you?” asked Samuel. “I don’t know. I guess we’re still on the block. Everything looks so big like a microscope, only we are in the thing you look at,” explained Jan.
“Well, Jan, I don’t know what to do, except wait…wait until my project come back to life,” said Samuel sadly.
“Bye, Daddy. 1 miss you. Can’t you help at all?” cried Jan.
“No.”
“Goodbye, Daddy. I wish you here with us now,” sniffled Tom. Then an amplified sound of a motor running faded in the distance. “Daddy? Daddy? Are you there?” he cried.
Everything looks so big, and we can see everything around us.. .creeping down at us while they rub our transistors!” said Jan half cheerfully.
“It’s so small, cold and scary in this place,” he mumbled.
Jan suggested,” Why don’t we open the door and see what happened.”
“Okay,” he agreed. Then they each went to a different door. “It  doesn’t open. We’re locked in here,” Tom said lowly.
“Neither does my door,” added Jan. “I have an idea. See that panel over there. ..one wall in back?” started Tom.
“Yes,” she answered.
“I bet if someone pressed the right button, we would get out,” suggested Tom.
The thought passed through both of their minds, “What if someone pressed the wrong button? What would happen?”
Slowly Tom dragged over to the panel. Right behind him, Jan followed. At the panel he slowly studied every detail, every little flashing light and every dull black-colored button.
Suddenly, like an arrow, his finger pointed its way to a bright green button. Nothing happened. They waited patiently for a few minutes… nothing.. .nothing at all. So the children sat in the chairs to relax. Soon they fell asleep.
A loud crash of a jet shockwave went the sphere rolling down the not-so-level floor of the block. Within a few minutes the clear sphere was at the foot of the door. There it stayed, unnoticed by Tom, Jan or anyone else until morning.
Someone drove up to the block as the children yawned their early morning blues out to the new day. A great bang came over the speakers in the bubble as the car door slammed shut. A tall, dark clothed man stepped on it, and Jan screamed as they saw him slip. Then he fell on his hands. But in his recovery, the children had a chance to do something a, and they did.
“Hello out there. Who are you? Can you help us?” they yelled in unison.
“Who said that?” asked the man with a speech problem which was very prominent.
“We did…down here by the door somewhere.” answered Tom.
The voices from the bubble were coming in from the speaker on the control panel, but it had an insulated cloth over it. The sound could have come from anywhere because of that fact.
As the man walked over to the door, he cynically said, “If this is a joke, it is a bad one. Anyone could put a walkie-talkie somewhere and talk.” Then he smiled and laughed as if someone saw him in the right perspective.
He continued, “It’s a marble, a plain old marble,” as he held the marble in his fingers. “Now a marble can’t talk, can it? Of course it can’t” he finished scientifically. Then he bent back his arm and threw the bubble out in the dirt road where it rolled to the yard of a farm.

“What happened? Where are we?” Jan wondered as she sat up. Her eyes traveled in circles recovering from the light blow on her head. As she did, she noticed everything was upside down. Just then Tom shook his head and slowly sat up. Then he used his arms as support as he looked, outside.
“Jan! Jan! Where are you, Jan?” asked Tom.
Jan crawled over to Tom and said, “Here I am right beside you.”
“What happened? Where are we?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I think I remember a man… picking us up and throwing us,” she said slowly.
Tom added, “Ya! Now I remember. He said that we were a marble, a plain old marble…” There was short pause, then a sniffle.
Tom comforted, “Don’t cry, Jan. It’s okay. We’ll get out of this mess somehow.”
Jan leaned on his shoulder and whispered, “I hope you can. I hope to God you can.” Then she burst out in tears. Tom tried his best to comfort her. Gently, but surely, Jan stopped her emotions from getting out of hand.
Meanwhile, back in Newson, New York, Samuel was ill in bed. “Margaret, would you come here, please?” he begged.
“Yes, Mr. Gentry.”
“Would you please fix something to eat, like soup… I hate myself for making that machine, it caused too much death and misery,” he said suddenly, but sadly.
Margaret smiled, and Samuel tried to smile back. He couldn’t.
“Have you heard any…”
“No sir, I haven’t” she replied. Every hour for five days he asked if she had heard anything about the children.
“We have to get out. Remember when I pressed that button,” Tom reasoned.
“Yes.”
“What color was it?” he asked.
“I think it was blue. No, it was red. That’s wrong. It was green.” Jan thought out loud.
“You’re as mixed up as I am. I’ll try something.
“What, she wondered.
Tom stepped over to the control panel and said, “Pick a color red, green or blue.”
“Blue. That is my favorite color.”
“Okay, now pick a number between one and five,” Tom ordered.
“Why?” she asked.
Tom just stared at her. Jan wanted to crawl in a shell then and there.
“Three.” she said disgustedly. Then Tom pressed the blue button three times.
“Pzamg! Zato! Qupz!” came from the computer.
The bubble rolled what seemed a mile and then was hoisted up by flesh-colored grips.
A gigantic face appeared in front of them, but only for a second. In a flesh of lightening, a grey film covered the sphere, and an ear-splitting yell rang happened at the same instant. Jan and Tom fell to the hard floor when their house rocked back and forth.
“A bug! A human attacking marble bug bit me!”, the yell rang again.
The children fell through space and landed on what seemed a high mountain.
“Well, I guess I pressed the wrong button, Jan,” Tom chuckled. Tom was sprawled out on the cot, but Jan was near the seat, lifeless. “Jan, Jan. Are you awake or dead or something?”
Jan moaned slowly and then blinked her eyes. “Oh! Where… What happened?” she wondered
“Someone picked us up and dropped us,” be explained.
“Hey, look,” she exclaimed. “The doors that covered this thing are open now. And look at that control panel.”
“The green light is flashing. Shall I press it?” asked Tom.
“Yes.”
“Okay, here I go, he said carefully. His finger gently floated to the button. KZinko, Kpzgt, PQdpLT went the computer.
A feeling of life spread through the bubble. The grass that seemed like trees grew to their normal size. Everything grew just as nature wanted in just a few minutes. Suddenly, the door opened with the hush of pressure. They walked out.

Have you read the childrens story, The Peasant Princess? It is in English, French, Spanish, German, and Arabic.

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April 12, 2013

Writing Roots 4 - 1974

Filed under: New Poems, Exponet Newsletter — admin @ 6:07 am

Writing Roots 4 -  Write On! 1974

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By 1974, while I was still in band, I was offered a chance to be one of the editors of Write On!, and I spent my extra time in the publications room working as one of three editors that year.  I had the logo redone. Here’s what it looked like …

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In this position as an editor, I saw how things were put together.  I was later asked by Mr. (Keith) Wellman, the publications advisor, who helped us layout  literary supplement, if I wanted to work for the school newspaper, The Triangle, my senior year.  I had a choice between band and publications.  My band director, Mr. Brown. suggested I go to the newspaper, thus ending my career as a musician. The summer of 1974, I went to a journalism workshop at Western Kentucky University and had my first dorm experiences away from home.  I became the feature editor of the school newspaper, was eventually initiated into Quill and School, a high school journalism honorary, and received the Most Improved Journalist Award the the 1975 Publications banquet.  Decisions were made for me to attend Ball State University majoring in photojournalism.

I had always taken family photos, and got my first camera (I still have it) when I was 10.  My roommate at WKU was a photographer, and I was on my way to another career interest.  I took an art photography class at Ivy Tech in Columbus before starting at BSU, just to get a head start.

The opportunity to be an editor of Write On! gave me the chance to get a few of my own works published as well.

Write On!,  Vol  IV, No. 3, Columbus North High School, Columbus, IN, March 14, 1974 

Clean Green Jean

Look out everybody,
Because here he comes.
Clean Green Jean is sweeping a path
And clearing out the bums.
“Who is he,” you ask.
Just look around for a six-inch imp
With his nose to the ground.
From the East to the West,
And the North to South
He will clean every home
To the dirtiest mouth.
Clean used to be good, But now it it bad.
If it doesn’t sparkle you are had!
The trail he leaves shall never end.
The smell of dirt he officially offends.
So beware of his poisonous spray,
Or his deadly broom.
Clean Green Jean might come
And bring you to your doom.

Write On!, May 24, 1974

Afraid

Afraid to care;
Afraid to know what’s coming;
but the future always comes.

What am I to do -
Run away and hide -
Or brave the truth?

My fingers are shaking,
And my teeth are chattering,
And my smile is still faking.
The silence grows louder-loudest.

I hear the door slam,
And I am still here;
And I am shaking, and
chattering,
And my smile is still faking.
WHAT IS THE FUTURE?
The Republic, Columbus, Indiana, Wednesday, October 9, 1974, Page 17

“Students Express Thoughts on Verse on Poetry Page”

Poet of Purpose

I do not build on money,
Nor do I build on lies.
I just work with words alone.
I am the Poet of the People
Searching for a home.
I am heated by anger,
And am cooled by fire.
I am scorched by wind just blown.
I am the Poet of the People’
Searching for a home.
I am not an actor,
Nor am I a player.
I don’t have seeds to be sown.
I am the Poet of the People
Searching for a home.
The world’s smallest libraries
Are filled to the brim,
The books of knowledge have grown.
All I am is a Poet of the People.

Write On!  Nov. 8, 1974

The Eyes

The eyes -feel
The eyes -hear
The eyes -smell
The eyes -tell if you…

The eyes -observing
The eyes -bloodshot
The eyes -happy
The eyes -sad
The eyes -tell
of you
like or love me

My senior year, I started working as a janitor at a department store, Ary-Way, to support the gas and oil for my 1962 Ford Fairlane 500 my dad bought me for my first car.  Between school, the school newspaper, my 20 or so hour a week job and my girlfriend, I was a busy guy.  I wrote something about my job, and it was put in the monthly newsletter.
Ayr-Way Speaking  Page 2, December 11, 1974

BALLAD OF THE 21-A
With his golden broom,
He will sweep any room.
Page him on the phone,
And he will be there soon.

With his great sweeping crew,
That never takes long,
They shall sweep the store;
And the 21-A leaves, singing’ a song.

When the sweeping is done,
It is time to wet-mop.
The 21-A works to the bone,
Only then will he stop.

The call of nature is clear,
And the 21-A is near.
The rest rooms are spic and span,
Fit for any child, woman or man.

The boxes of the store coming
To him shall never cease.
But the 21-A compacts them
When the button is released.

So, if you have a job
For the 21-A
Just contact him, and he’ll
Be there right away.

For anything that is thine,
He will clean it
‘Till it will sparkle and shine
This is the end of this rhyme.

 Learn 10 ways how you can harness the Power of Words with modern technology.

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April 9, 2013

Writing Roots 3 - Write On! 1973

Filed under: New Poems, Exponet Newsletter — admin @ 7:35 pm

Writing Roots 3 - Write On! 1973

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After writing longer short stories, I concentrated my writing to poetry in my spare time from school work, band, friends and being a kid.  Here’s what happened in Write On! in 1973.

Poems in Write On!, October 19, 1973.

I will have peace

I will have peace
When the Party is over, and the crowd has left,
I shall rest my head to sleep.
I will remember and dream the memories I will
Forever Keep.
There would be Marie and Bill, dancing in the light
With the help of some strange pill.
At 12:35 he would fall to the ground with a dazzled look,
with no sound.
When he hit the floor, I knew that he would speak
no more.
Marie acted about the same, but she would live.
Who is to blame? Tom, Jack, Terry, and Sam passed
the needle around.
Heroine it was, and Heroine it will always be.
Tom, Jack, Terry and Sam died later.
When will they see?
When the party is over, and the crowd has left,
I will rest my head to sleep.
Even though the memories are there,
I will have Peace.
I will have peace, at last.
I sign my name

As I sign my name upon the line,
I watch the rich people dine.
I also prevent and solve many crimes.
I have the master-of all seat,
For as I walk my particular beat
the shoes wear from under my feet.
I sign my name along the line
And I shall live my appointed time.

Patterns of love

As the light starts flashing,
I feel the painful wound, deep and gashing.
The blood smears stain my skin,
And my heart is empty again.
This is a pattern of love.

As I walk in the city park,
I remember moments in the dark.
Our lips met in the uncertain, suspended time.
No words can describe it. There is no rhyme.
This is a pattern of love.

I care for her, even die for her,
And she obeys “Yes Sir,”
We had kids, but they’re all gone,
Yet we are still singing our love songs.

Smile

See the suicidal manic
Upon the 10-story ledge.
He has been there a while.
Soon help will come,
and he will live
with a smile.

See the lonely fisherman
drifting in his boat.
He has been there a while.
Soon a fish will come, and
He will smile.

See the everyday housewife,
scrubbing and cleaning all day long.
She has worked a while.
Soon her husband will be home, and
she will smile.

See the people in the park.
All kids, some young, some old,
some new.
Look at them a while; Talk to them,
walk with them.
And you will smile too.

Distant smiles

The distant smiles and
The forgotten laughs have
lost their way in the past.
Kisses have come and
Embraces have gone into
some special time and place.
No love is left in me, at last.

Write On!, Columbus North High School, Columbus, Ind.,  December 7, 1973, Vol. IV, No. 2

The Difference of Light and Time

In the distant passages of time,
Lurking in the murky darkness,
Is the eternal  light. Life will cease,
And then it will begin;
And the light still shines;
And I can breathe again.

In 1973, my youngest of three sisters was born, and here’s what was published.

Little Babe
Open your eyes, little babe,
And behold your new room.
Do not frown, little babe,
For then the world will be bad.
Open your mouth, little babe,
And let your voice be heard.
Now lay in my lap, little babe,
And close your eyes to sleep.
If you are bumped, little babe,
You will shake the world.
Now you are asleep, little babe.

Several other poems written during this time are already included on The World of Words by Elias Tobias blog, and most of these these were self-published in “A Poetry Sampler -100% Natural Words, by Elias Tobias,  in 1991, and in a second revised in 1995. I have a few of these books left, by the way.   See Poetry Credits for details.

Photos by Mike Hall converted into brushed paintings are in the ArtBrushed Photo Gallery. Download art for free.

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April 7, 2013

Indianapolis Indians Opening Night

Filed under: New Poems, Freeze Frame photography gallery — admin @ 11:21 am

Indianapolis Indians Opening Night

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(Photo by Mike Hall)

Fireworks light up the sky over downtown Indianapolis on April 4, 2013 as the Indianapolis Indians played their opening game against the Columbus Clippers.  The Tribe lost to the visitors 4-0 after a grand slam by Columbus late in the game took a victory from the Indians.  The fans were winners though. The opening pitch temperature was less than 60 degrees F and all those in attendance could use the game tickets to get free tickets for another game in April. This photo was taken from the cell phone as a test to the ability of the camera to work at night.

April 6, 2013

Writing Roots 2 - The Baby Bomb

Filed under: New Poems — admin @ 10:29 pm

Writing Roots 2 - The Baby Bomb

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During the transition from 9th grade to 10th grade, a freshman at the Columbus North High School, I let the world I knew then that I wanted to be a writer. The Baby Bomb was first published in Write On!, a literary publication at Columbus North High School, on October 6, 1972.

The Baby Bomb

Edward Jackson III was a young man of 25, had a steady job and a wife.
When Edward was a boy, he had a farther and three brothers and sisters, not much else. But through trial and error, he rose from that deep dry well of his past.
As a gift of his great upward lift, Edward became the father of his first child.
“Hi, Dear. How is our new baby? Is it a boy or girl? What a great chance he or she has with us.” said Edward.
Sorrowfully Gina said, “I don’t know the answer to any of those questions darling. As soon as he came, the nurse took him away…”
”Oh, is that bad or good?’ pondered Edward.
“Half and half. It’s normal procedure to take him or her away after birth. But I haven’t seen the baby in three days.” answered Gina
“It isn’t all that bad, dear. If the baby was sick or something, they would have told us before. I’ll ask a nurse or doctor to find out what’s wrong, if there is something wrong. I’ll tell you right away when I find out, dear,” explained Edward.
“Darling?”
“Yes, Dear.”
“I love you, and so does our baby.”
“And I love you and our baby, as much as both of you combined.”
Edward walked out the door Number 98. Soon he was at the nurse s desk asking for the doctor’s room and location of him. She said to wait in the main lounge.
Soon the doctor entered the lounge, and Edward rose to meet him. “Doctor Grant…”
“Yes, I’m Dr. Grant.”
“1 wanted to know what happened to our baby. I mean my wife’s and my baby. You see, she told me she hasn’t seen it in three days, and that made me a little nervous as well as concerned. I mean, after all, I had a little to do with it,” explained Edward.
Dr, Grant replied, “I could help you if I knew the baby’s name.”
“Oh, well, Gina and I weren’t too sure what to name him. I personally thought Scott if it was a boy and Cathy if it was a girl.  Anyway, we decided to see the baby first,” said Edward.
“In that case,” said Dr. Grant, “He will be harder to find. But we will find him.”
“You mean to tell me in this Medical Center of Los Angeles, you lose a baby, just like that?” yelled Edward as he snapped his fingers on “THAT.”
“Don’t get angry. Please, don’t get angry!” insisted Dr. Grant. “I didn’t tell you the truth.”
Edward said calmly,” Then what is the truth, oh, great baby loser, what is the honorable truth?”
Attempting to control himself, Dr. Grant said as calmly as possible,
“Please listen, Mr… “
Jackson. Edward Jackson,” Edward finished.
“Mr. Jackson,’ continued Dr. Grant, “Please let me explain. Follow me to my office. I can’t discuss it here.” said Dr. Grant.
“Okay, Dr. Grant, I will.” Edward followed him to the doctor’s office without any further conversation.
“Please sit down, Edward,” invited the doctor. With a smile, he accepted the invitation. For he wanted to find the truth about his and Gina’s child.
“Please send in Doctor Sell with the files for case No. IOl.50S,” said the doctor to his aide on the opposite end of the phone.
“Who is this Doctor Sell with a computer case number for a file?’ inquired Edward.
“You’ll find out soon,” replied Dr. Grant.
Moments later, a short, thin man appeared in front of Edward as he lifted his head from his hands.
“Edward, this is Doctor Sell, a geneticist to tell you of your child’s problem. Doctor, it’s your turn,” introduced Dr. Grant.
“Glad to meet you, Doctor Sell.” At that, then Edward and Doctor Sell shook hands.
“Edward, your child is a very sick boy. He has a very contagious disease called “plutomiocious….”
“What in the world is pluto whatever? It sounds like a cartoon character who has a bad backache,” said Edward. Both doctors chuckled at his remark about the disease.
“You are very wrong, Edward,” said Doctor Sell. “Plutomiocious is a disease of the nervous system. It can affect any part of the body. The reason it is so contagious is that it mostly affects the respiratory or breathing system. When this said person sneezes, uses a Kleenex or such and another person touches it in any way, or maybe even said person breathes on another person, that other person has it. It is as contagious as the common cold.”
“Doctor Sell, just what does this disease do to the nervous system?’
“Do you want a plain or scientific explanation?” asked the doctor.
“Plain.”
“Well, wherever the disease strikes, it paralyzes that part of the body.”
“I am a little confused at how he got this disease. He might have gotten it from any nurse or anybody coming to the hospital,” said Edward.
“Impossible,” said Doctor Grant.
“That idea is simply impossible!”
Doctor Sell suggested, “I have a theory. You and your wife or anyone of you may have had this disease as one of your recessive genes.” At this point, he produced a chart that had many circles and dots. “1 have made a detailed study of your child’s genes. This is his geneological chart. The dots are all white except the red. That is his the plutomiocious gene on his 11th chromosome. It was either yours or hers as a recessive gene In your boys body, it was a dominant gene.”
“I don’t really understand,” said Edward, “but it will do. I want to go and see my wife now. Bye, Dr. Sell and Dr. Grant. I’m sorry about the way I acted. I was in a rush to find out what happened. Thanks a lot.”
Edwards boots hit the hall floor as hard as his mind was hitting his heart.
Should he tell Gina the whole truth, part of it, or all lies? Someway she will find the truth, and when she did, she would be hurt, bad. “Gina, I found out where our son is. Gina, are you Gina! Gina! Where are you?” yelled Edward.
Edward’ ran to the nurse’s desk and asked, “Where is she?”
“Who?”
“My wife, Gina Jackson,” answered Edward.
“Oh, isn’t she in her room?”
“No.”
“Jane, get Elaine. We have a missing patient,” said the nurse sternly to another nurse. Next, she lifted the phone. “Dr. Grant, please. We have a missing patient.”
After the commands were ordered, all the halls and stairs were being searched when a door in between them opened.
“I found her. She’s all right. She was in the ladies room,” said a nurse.
“I’m sorry, nurse. I was just concerned about my wife.” Walking away, Edward added, ,“I need to go on a trip or cruise or something. I’m too keyed up. I need unsprung. Man! Do 1 need unsprung!”
“Hi, dear. I was a little worried about you. I have a surprise for you,” said Edward cheerfully.
“What?’
“It’s about our baby boy.”
“It’s a boy! Just what I wanted, a baby boy,” said Gina frantically, “How come I can’t see my boy? I mean our baby boy?’ asked Gina.
Edward explained, “Just relax in your bed, and I will tell you how and the why of your question.”
“Okay, I’ll listen,” said Gina
“Our son has a very contagious disease. He is in isolation. If you or anybody comes in contact with him without special gowns and gloves, that person gets it,” explained Edward.
“But how….why? asked Gina mysteriously.
“It’s too complicated for you. Just stay away from him or else you get it. We still might have a healthy son yet,” said Edward with a hopeful expression.
“I will, darling. I will,” cried Gina in a sob.
“Everything is going to turn out fine…really dear,” said Edward sympathetically.
All of a sudden a scream escaped from Gina’s mouth. “Lies! Lies! Everything you say are lies. God so help me, I’ll get my baby and run away from this damn hospital!”
“Gina, Gina, don’t yell. Calm down, please. Calm down,” said Edward clearly.
“How can you be calm when our baby is dying alone in a plain room because of some weird disease. I want my baby back disease or no disease!” screamed Gina.
Edward pressed a button, and a nurse appeared in the room. “Nurse, Gina is a little upset. Could you pleased quiet her? I just told her some bad news,” said Edward bluntly -
“I have to check on it first. One moment please,” said the nurse. After checking, she gave her a mild sedative to Gina, and Edward left the hospital for some sleep.
Gina woke up with the sun in her eyes, but she was as cross as a wounded animal. As the nurse attempted to apply some medication, Gina jumped out of her bed and ran around her room. Next thing the nurse could hear was a scream from Gina as she ran down the ward hall
As Gina ran down the hail, she noticed the army of white-clothed privates and suited generals charging at her from all sides armed with stethoscopes and needles. At the nearest stairs she could find, she attempted to fly down the stairs. Half way down, her wings fell.  She fell on the last flight of stairs. Gina was red in the face with blood oozing out of her forehead.
Minutes later, Doctors Grant, Sell and Black were attending to Gina’s major concussion in the operating room. Edward was both worried and confused about what happened as he watched the team help his wife.
“Sir,” said a very nice looking nurse.
“Yes,” answered Edward.
“If I were you, I would go home and rest. I’ve heard about your wife. Medical Center is doing its best to help her and her baby. You don’t need to spend the night here. Everything is going to be fine,” advised the nurse.
Edward answered, “I think I will, Miss…”
“Sologontin.”  She pointed to her name on an ID badge.
“I think I will, Miss. Sologontin. Thanks for the advice: Good day,” said Edward.
“Good day, Edward.”  He rested and came back to the hospital.
“Gina how are you? You had a bad fall,” said Edward.
Gina answered, “I don’t know. The last thing I remember is running down some stairs with nurses chasing me with needles. Ouch!” exclaimed Gina as she touched her bandage. “How badly did I bump my head, Edward?’
“Very bad. Very bad. Doctor Grant was going to release you until this happened. You might stay another two weeks,” explained Edward.
“Oh no,” said Gina sadly. “Just think of the cost of everything now I mean for me and our baby.”
Edward replied, “That means l have to work over time. We can’t afford it, now but we’ll work it out. I better leave now.”
After resting quietly for an hour, Gina woke up when she found herself repeating, “I want my baby back.”
“Oh, I must have been dreaming that I had my baby in my arms,” said Gina, pretending to hold a baby. “When it was taken from me and …Hi, Doctor Grant! I was just talking to myself.”
“How do you feel?” asked Dr. Grant.
“I can’t tell that much. My forehead feels like my heart jumped in my brain. I feel a ‘thump, thump, thump,” answered Gina.
“Why did you run from your room?’
“I needed room service,” laughed Gina.
Then the doctor looked sternly at Gina and said quietly, “Tell me the truth, the whole truth.”
“I want my baby!” yelled Gina loudly. “I want my baby.”
Late that night Gina went toward the restroom making the nurse at the desk think she was going there. Her fake worked. Right before she got there, Gina turned down the hall leading toward her baby.
Some doctors were coming. She had to hide, but where? Just in time she turned in a closet. Slowly but surely she went to her future. Dressed as a nurse, Gina felt it would be easier to see him.
“ISOLATION WARD—AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” read the sign as Gina opened the door.
“Halt,” bolted a hard deep voice, “Halt!”
“Yes, sir,” and she did.
“Can’t you read?” asked the man.
“Yes,” answered Gina.
“Then why are you walking in that ward without a robe and gloves on? Are you authorized to go in there?” asked the brassy voice.
“I don’t know. I guess I just forgot, sir, “said Gina quickly after thinking of it.
“Nurse Adams,” said the doctor “Who is it you are to attend?”
“The unidentified baby boy, sir.”
“You are not to attend him. That’s an order,” yelled the doctor. Looking at the nurse at the ward’s desk, he gruffed, “Don’t let her inside,” pointing at the door. By then, Gina was well inside the ward running toward her son.
In panic mixed with hope, Gina pushed the door open. The door did have a small lock on it. In minutes Gina was hugging and kissing her baby.
“I’ll come back to get you out of here, son. I promise,” said Gina hurriedly.
With less panic, she rushed out of his room and put on a robe and gloves. She walked out of the ward as casually as she could attempting not to be noticed. Just as a group of her pursuers entered, Gina saw a cart by the wall.
Now was her chance to escape. Gina strolled out of the ward with the cart. Quicker than she came, Gina was soon in her room.
“There she is!” yelled someone in a small group.
“Get back, everyone, get back. Stay out of this room!” yelled Dr. Grant trying to control the ever increasing crowd.
As soon as the door was shut tightly, the doctor looked at Gina ferociously.
“What did you do that for?’ asked the doctor attempting to be calm.
“What. . . did I do that was so bad?’ wondered Gina.
The doctor explained, “Your child has a very contagious disease that can slowly but surely paralyze a person fatally. It’s a miracle how your baby lived so long. But you …. will die in a week or so. Also, others might die, too…”
“Why?’
“When you walked through the halls, you spread enough germs to contaminate this hospital. At 3:05 officially, the hospital is quarantined. Did your husband tell you about this?” asked Dr. Grant nervously.
“Yes, but..”
“But what?’ wondered the doctor.
“I didn’t think things would turn out like this. I only wanted to see my baby. That I did. You think I really thought my baby was a …bomb? No!” yelled Gina in a rage. Then she burst out crying, creating a puddle on the floor. Then she added to her sobbing, “My baby was a bomb!” over and over again.
As the doctor promised, she became totally paralyzed in a week, in a week’s time, it spread to other hospitals and related businesses. Within a six-week period, the city of Los Angeles had an epidemic of that fatal disease. If a visitor was immune to it, they would die of seeing funerals and people lying dead in the street.
The once busy city of Los Angeles was transformed into a small populated, death ridden, exiled city hit by something worse than the atomic bomb or, the plague. In a year all the populous of the city had died, all it’s millions. The whole city was ordered destroyed by the President of the United States.  And it was.

Photos by Mike Hall converted into brushed paintings are in the ArtBrushed Photo Gallery. Download art for free.

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April 3, 2013

Writing Roots 1 - Shoes

Filed under: New Poems, Exponet Newsletter — admin @ 9:37 pm

Writing Roots 1- Shoes

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We all have a beginning, as humble as it may be.  We all have to start someplace, and usually with some coaching or external motivation.  By 1970,  I went from  6th grade at  Lillian C. Schmitt Elementary Elementary School to being a freshman at Northside Junior High School, a big change from going two more blocks down the street from the elementary school.  I was a longer walk.   I had as my English teacher, Mr. (Donald) Ray.  We did the journal thing, and a poem about shoes was another assignment.  He saw more than that and encouraged me to write more.  He didn’t know what he started.   The poem was later published that school year.  I re-typed it from a surviving typed page used as a master for a ditto machine (remember those and the fluid smelled so good).  Wherever he his, Thanks for seeing beyond a few foolish words.

From The Northside News, Northside Junior High School, Columbus, Indiana,  Before  March, 24, 1970 (page 7)
My Shoes—
Look like they forgot
to pay dues.
They are sore.
They are poor.
My shoes aren’t good.
I would like to throw them away if I could.
Those are my shoes.

Later, I updated the poem, as a ninth grader, and it, too, was published in the Northside News, Page 9, date unknown , 1972

My Shoes

My shoes
Are green and white,
And they’re quite a sight.
Those are my Shoes,

My shoes
Are every bright
And Are And full of might
Those are my shoes.

My shoes
Are very old.
They’re soiled from our very sod.
Those are my shoes.

My shoes
Are made of wood
And are very.very very good
Those are my shoes.

My shoes
Make me very mad
Because they look very sad.
Are those my shoes?

I had written other poems, and I still had journals to write.  The subject worked once before, so I tried it again.  This version also got in Northside News, 1972.

My Tennis Shoes
I thought I was so poor
When I walked through the door
With my torn up “white” tennis shoes.
As time went by, I begged Dad more
To take me to the tennis shoe store.
So he got rich by getting a loan.
And I got my orange tennis shoes.
Now that I have my orange tennis shoes,
I like them very much, and I run
Through the neighborhood
And through the puddles and such.
I run through the many fields,
And fall in their small holes.
I run in the baseball and football fields,
And score many goals.
I have a  good time in my orange tennis shoes,
And they follow me wherever I go.
I event wear them in the snow.
I’m glad I went to the orange tennis shoe store.

Here are another gems from that year.

A Fake and a Fool

The Northside News,  page 8, unknown date, 1972

When I took a test
And didn’t know what to do;
I ran to the nurse’s office
And pretended I had the flu.
My parents rushed me home
And threw me into bed.
The thermometer said
was sick.
“Of course, I’m sick,” I said
As soon as the test was over,
I sprinted back to school.
Whenever you play hookey
You always end up a fool.

The God of Love

Northside News, 1972

Far way in a strange land
I met a stranger who was
alone playing in the sand.
I knew not who he was,
but he gave me a clue.
He gave me a look, a look
that everybody knew.
It was a look that
seemed like passing time.
It was a look that was a
real as a dime.
It was a look of hope and love.
A smile is the look I
was speaking of.
He gave me another clue.
He wrote it in the sand.
It was a verse I now know
like the back of my hand.
“When love wasn’t here long ago,
I came here to let it flow,
But the people are gone
And my job is done.
He was the God of Love.

Write a poem instantly by filling in the blanks. Go to Instant Color Poem for a sample and get started.

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