Friday, March 30, 2012

One Amazing Summer

It was the summer I ran away that comes to mind. Don't get me wrong; I wasn't a child. I was 27. And it was of my own free will. Kinda. The events leading up to June are what forced me to shove all my stuff into storage and flee to good ole New Orleans.

I'd had a stalker. I've written a poem about it here. I was a second grade teacher in The Woodlands and I'd just moved to an apartment complex closer to the action in Houston. Boy did I get some action! After the guy was caught and evicted, they let me out of my lease. It was nearly May. I was dating someone who lived in New Orleans. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out my reasoning.

My boyfriend owned a sound and lighting company and so he was involved in the night life. He worked many concerts, one in particular was Harry Connick, Jr. After the show we went to Pat O'Briens for an exclusive celebration. Anyone who has ever been there knows about the hurricanes they serve, and I had sweet talked my way into several of them by the time I got up the nerve to walk up to Harry and introduce myself. Like a giddy school girl I held out my hand and told him my name, said that I was his biggest fan. I would have been any star's biggest fan at that point. He looked at me like, who the hell are you? I felt smaller than a doubloon, but at least I can now say I've had a private conversation with Harry Connick, Jr.

During the long hot days I worked in a fancy seafood restaurant as a door hostess. A few times I had to step in and wait tables for a no-show, but to tell you the truth, I couldn't even carry the cumbersome trays much less remember who ordered what. I worked my way over to bartending where I received a fun education on those New Orleans spirits. I wasn't too long into that when my boyfriend convinced me to quit and spend my days at the country club. No problem-o!

This was also the summer I went to Puerto Vallarta for my birthday - his treat, I might add. You can read about my daring adventure up the steep mountains with a crazy driver here. I went to some ritzy affairs dressed in slinky black dresses and was spoiled to death by a man thirteen years older than me. By the end of the summer, our generation gap was becoming more prominent as were his promiscuous habits... but I'll never forget that adventurous summer.

Written for Kellie Elmore's Free Write Fridays- One Amazing Summer

Monday, March 26, 2012

The Specter

In violet robes the specter stood
with wart on nose and toothless grin
her cauldron brewing root of carob tree
slivered almonds with a touch of lemon.

She swayed to the chanting in her mind
writhed to the rhythm of the fire
its pungent aroma she could not hack
a wanting desire boiling within

until -‘poof’- she burst at the seems
melted down to a puddle of mud-
no longer could she disturb
the innocent child’s sleep.

©laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Shawna at Rosemary Mint provides us with ten words on Monday.

This week's words-

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Don't You See How Big I Am?

image: Duane Michals

Warped mirrors reflecting
me times three
shattering self-image
image—self, shattering
three times me,
reflecting mirrors warped.

©laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: The Mag

Spring's Tender Touch

Springtime rain sprinkled on the fresh mown lawn
The puddles oil floating in the sea
As winter’s lackluster melts away
With powers of an alchemist
Throwing acid in the air
To produce this breathtaking picture

Almost overnight youth has sprung
Nature’s acumen like artists
Who hone their crafts
As pastels sweep the grounds
Gauge the depth of beauty within
Supple greenery, steadfast trees-
Joy is spring’s tender touch

©laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: The Sunday Whirl (wordle 49)- craft, joy, supple, alchemist, gauge, juices, tender, acid, oil, acumen, sprinkled, sweep

Friday, March 23, 2012

No Ordinary Pacifier

A wooden pier, a stick
only it’s a baby, a Blow Pop
against the bumpy wall
he drags it, then pops it
on his purple lips, licks it
because it’s too big for his mouth
lick, lick, lick
and it falls to the floor and breaks
I wonder what he’ll do
he bends down, examines the sucker
as if it’s a bug
gives the candy to his oblivious mom
who wipes his hands, gives him
a red Blow Pop this time
looks at me and says
it keeps him quiet

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: IGWRT- Mary’s Mix Bag Fridays- The ordinary

Thursday, March 22, 2012

My Sunshine

Solar flare
illuminates the room
every time I see your vibrant smile

shining forth
this aureole of you
burning with desire my aching heart

ever since
your light refused to reach
the depths of my darkened soul. I long

to see your
rays beaming once again
illuminating the room with cheer.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspirations:
Poets United Thursday Think Tank- Light
Poetic Bloomings- Form: Parallelogram de Crystalline

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Four Forever Years Ago...

Tonight was the night
we had our last conversation
four forever years ago.
You were so tired and nervous, said
his mom had taken the kids overnight
so you could be alone with him
after all your time apart.

In the closet hiding, I saw you-
bright reds, purples, endless black
the colors of your fear dancing
violently while I tried in vain
to find the white glow within closed eyes
fading after all these years.

Yet you still give me subtle signs
that you’re okay- a certain song or memory
vibrant cardinals, peaceful feelings
warm fuzzies when I need them most
but all I really want to know is-

what happened on this night
four forever years ago
that made you pull the trigger
the very next day?

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Poetry Jam- Connections

Monday, March 19, 2012

Moods For Sale

She carried moods in a pink backpack, sold them for $5.00 a pop. I’d seen her at the corner of Main and 4th for the last month, her purple hair pulled back in a bun. She always wore tight jeans with red suspenders and knee socks.

The sign said, “I’ve got the mood for you,” and most days when I walked home from work, a bevy of men clad in business suits, scrubs and plain clothes surrounded her like seagulls behind a ferry trying to grab the next bread crumb tossed in the air. Whenever I walked by she always looked up and smiled. I’d turn away and hurry on.

One day I decided to stop. It had been a particularly bad day. If anything could go wrong, it did. Sue and I had argued before the kids had left for the bus, which by the looks on their faces, had devastated them. Then at work, I missed an important meeting because I was late. I had to work through lunch to make it up. I was hungry, tired and mad. I needed a lift.

The lady gave me her normal smile.

“What’ll you have today? It looks like you could use some happiness. I have just the thing for you,” she said in a high-pitched animated squeak.

I was curious so I pulled out a five.

“Perfect. I’ll take some, or it, or whatever the hell this is you’re selling,” I said.

She reached in her pink backpack and pulled out a yellow happy face squeeze ball. Then she giggled. I’d never heard another person laugh like that. She laughed and laughed. Before I knew it, I was laughing, too.

“Now you keep this in your pocket and whenever you get agitated, squeeze it. You’ll be happy in no time.”

I left with the ball. As soon as I got far enough away, I reached into my pocket and squeezed the smiley face. Her laughter resonated through the air. I smiled. It worked!

It’s still working for me, too.

Today's inspiration~ Flashy Fiction: Monday Moods

Sunday, March 18, 2012


Photo © Shanyn Silinski

against the fiery sun-
floral eclipse

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: IGWRT Sunday Photo Challenge with Shanyn Silinski

Flashy Fiction: An Excerpt to Insert

There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. I tried, I really did; and after a few short steps, I stopped in my tracks. The sight before me was incredible. Paper mache balls in colors of pink, yellow and orange decorated massive oak branches like ornaments on a Christmas tree. The lush green lawn was filled with rows of white chairs. As I stepped closer, I began to recognize the faces of his family and our friends.

What is going on? I wondered.

There was a light tap on my shoulder and with a turn of my head I saw him, the love of my life. We had been engaged for several months, but we knew the wedding would have to be put off until we were finished with our postgraduate studies. Money was tight and our time was limited.

“Surprise,” he said as he drew me near.

“What are you doing here?” I was away on a family reunion weekend that he couldn’t attend at the last minute because of a school project that came up.

He was smiling. “Do you have a few minutes to spare so you can become my wife? I don’t think I can wait another day.”

Before I knew it I was swept away by my mom and sister, taken to a room in the hotel lobby where the dress I had tried on last week waited for me. An hour later, I walked underneath the colorful decoration into the loving arms of the best man in the world- my husband. And we’re living happily ever after.


Click here to see the picture that goes with this story. I'd love it if you could contribute something for Flashy Fiction, too. 

An Extreme Theory

image: Robert and Shana ParkeHarrison

The mad scientist theorized
set out to prove
global warming reversible
with one Herculean move

of digging up the earth
installing cogwheels within
which after years of toil
landed him in the loony bin.

@laurie kolp

Inspiration: The Mag

* You are invited to Flashy Fiction where I have an excerpt for you to insert!*

Drama Queen

Drama is more than a class Carry takes
in her life of waxed-out dreams,
with school hallways as her stage
inherent acting skills it seems

she drives pressured peers crazy
with hand gestures, facial masks
and an artificial delivery-
Carry follows senseless tasks.

Sources say her previous school
banned her from all lockers,
their loose-fit limit she had pushed
when she chastised boys in Dockers.

And when she tries to do it again
admin picks up on this scheme
spreads her classes from end to end-
no more singing to her petty theme.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: The Sunday Whirl- singing, sources, previous, carry, limit, hallways, gestures, drama, drives, follows, delivery, hand, inherent

Please visit Flashy Fiction where I have an excerpt for you to insert!

Saturday, March 17, 2012

One St. Patrick's Day...

Aimlessly we ambled hand in hand
down a country road off the beat-
en path, passed an empty card-
board box, sign “Free Puppies,”
junkyard truck with tires
for sale, On Tap
neon green
BEER; we

@laurie kolp

Friday, March 16, 2012

No Looking Back

Sketch by P. Kolp

A deserted street, warm wind blowing
dust into the breathless air
ancient buildings with chipped
paint and broken windows long
vacated, and I
walking in the alley’s
middle, take note 
of this once thriving
city; a barber shop, a used-book
store, post office, such and such
attorneys, school number
whatever; all signs of life now
forgotten, yet on the other
side a railroad track, a whistle
blows, I jump so high I almost fall
down a manhole, the conductor
waves, says the only way it
goes is out of here I
look ahead and hop on board.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: IGWRT’s A Word with Laurie- Perspective

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Dress Up

Feel the wispy barbs as they
Ease across your tender
Arm like a make-up brush
Teasing little girls who
Hope they won't get caught
Emulating models with cheeks as
Red as a cardinal

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Poets United Thursday Think Tank- Feather

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

The Scar of Regret

Regret is the scar
on her dimpled chin
like a puppy cradled
in strong helping hands

held out with ease.
The years, they heal
regret fades away
and running through endless
fields of bluebonnets
a yellow Labrador
cannot see the scar.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Poetry Jam with Peggy- Emotions with a tangible descriptor

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Who Dat?

Enter-- dance competition...


movement funk-

x 3

notice me

quiet, please

cell phones

... and then there's the dancers.

@laurie kolp

Wednesday, March 7, 2012


Deviant behavior starts at a young age
when bullies begin reacting with rage.

A minuscule flea sets despots off
so trivial and trite the peers scoff.

It grows and it festers this irritation they get
taking out on others without regret.

If not nipped in the bud truants they'll be
or grown-ups excluding people like me.

 @laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: 3WW (deviant, minuscule, trivial)

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

The Runaway Tree

Image by L. Kolp

The Colorado River wanders,
a highway through the sun-parched land.
Upon the grassy hill a lone tree
protrudes like a hitchhiker’s thumb.
Will he be saved from the wrath
of human greed
forming homes in clusters?

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Victoria’s live2write2day blog-- American Sentence Form- 3 17-syllable sentences on same topic.

Frozen shoulder, here my cry

Isn't it ironic? Yes, Alanis Morissette, it is. I'm the one who always offers a warm shoulder to lean on, but now it's frozen. Yesterday I finally received a diagnosis for this shoulder pain I've had since last summer; frozen shoulder. As of right now, I won't need surgery. Physical therapy is the next step. I dread that because even a slight movement of my shoulder above the point of resistance hurts like hell. I guess I'll have to put on my big girl panties and take it... but I'm waiting until next week.


She fondles drugs as if they were four-
leaf clovers picked fresh from a verdant
green field; presses them in her body like
a scrapbook page, these poisonous mushroom
spores growing fungus in her brain, polluting
her body with peppered spice. Signs hide in a
cloak of denial and justification- but I can read
between the lines, offer a shoulder to lean on.

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspirations:

Poetry Jam- Inner and Outer Limits

Rosemary Mint Word Prompt (Shawna)
~Words-- spice, clover, leaf, page, spore, press, cloak, sign, lean, read

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Bits and pieces

I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story.*

At the supermarket Susie ran up to me in the frozen foods, said the Miller house had been robbed last night.

“They came in while everyone was sleeping and robbed them blind.”

I was sorry to hear that and listened as best I could, but Susie’s always in everyone’s business and to tell you the truth, I wanted to sneak an ice cream sandwich or two in before I headed home.

Later that day as I tried to walk off the sinful splurge, I bumped into Ellie May at mile marker one. She jumped right in beside me; arms swaying back and forth with mine, our strides matching to a T. She mumbled something which required me to pull out my ear buds during Poker Face.

“What?” I asked.

“Did you hear about Mr. Miller? He’s in the hospital. Someone beat him up last night. He might lose an eye.”

Her breath smelled like wine. “I thought they were robbed.”

“That’s not what I heard,” said Ellie May.

Later that evening, the old lady from down the street stopped me in my driveway as I was on my way to the movies with my man.

“Please pray for the Millers, dear,” she whispered. “Stan was out drinking again and got into some trouble with the law. Geneva has no more money left after bailing him out this time, but she sure gave him what he deserved.”

And we both said, “A black eye.”


*Excerpt from Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton

Check out Flashy Fiction for some wonderful creative writing prompts.

Imagination Catching Wind

The woolly bear caterpillar caught her unaware
in the white kitchen, metal crashed
a scream with the fullness of a stuck pig
resonated through the neighborhood.
When I returned from my daily walk
my coatless daughter waited outside
with a warning that I shouldn’t enter.
Admonishing her Miss Muffet-ness
and with shoulders back and standing tall
I marched right in just like a penguin,
her shadow followed on my tail
wind the remnants of despair
this fake eyebrow remnant
Part of an image by Sarolta Ban

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspirations:
(coatless, white, metal, shadow, kitchen,
returned, prefers, unaware, admonish,
fullness, daughter, woolly)
 The Mag

Friday, March 2, 2012

A rat of a conversation

I had an interesting/irritating conversation today that really made me want to scream. I just had to share.

Male Someone (SO): When are you going to go back to work?

Me:  (Are you kidding me?) I do work.

SO (with raised eyebrows): Are you serious? I mean a real job.

Me: Ahem. I'm a writer (and a mother of three extremely active kids and wife to husband who is working on his MBA while holding down a job in which he is the manager). I never want to teach again if that's what you mean.

SO: You don't have to teach. You can just get a mindless job somewhere.

Okay you MSO, no SOB... obviously you know nothing about my life and how writing is my passion, how money doesn't matter to me and how my husband is very supportive.

 I changed the subject and wrapped up the conversation, ran inside and began this post (which really makes me feel like a tattle-tale).

So tell me, how would you respond to something like this?

P.S. Immediately after I wrote this I checked my email and this is what I found!


Someone is now following Bird's-Eye Gemini

Someone just started following you at They will receive an email every time you publish a post. Congratulations.

I Love a Man in Uniform

My husband, Pete, 20+ years ago in the Marines (before we knew each other)

He once wrote a poem for me
about the wind and the waves
how the ocean breeze felt upon his face
breathing in the salty air
as water lapped upon his feet
in rhythmic solitude
a moonlit night, a starry sky
sitting on the wooden pier
two hearts as one;
nothing could compare, he wrote
and sent it with a card
the poem I keep beside our bed
my husband, my hero
still today.


@laurie kolp
Prompt inspiration: IGWRT's Fireblossom Friday