So, at 28, you embarked on a humanitarian project, fully unaware of the danger that could have abbreviated your life, just like that. Looking back, I bet you're saying "It was all worth it." Just think of what you came back home with: your French Prince Charming. Great photo. You know, I did the same thing to my luggage when my family vacationed to France, Italy and Germany. I painted them (not flowers though, but Sponge Bob. I was 12 years old).
Thanks for sharing all these great pictures from your Peace Corps life.
Geez, this is like watching an episode of "The Philantrhopist" on NBC -- one of my favorite shows based on a true story. You might have seen it. Like yours, it's very exciting and suspenseful with lots of drama. This comment is meant to be a huge compliment to you and your story. I loved it. Apparently, your critics do, too. Like them, I give you a 6.0, oops! I mean, a 5.0.
I've never been out of the country except for a brief European vacation--all with the luxuries of modern conveniences. To think that someone can do what you have done in Africa with the Peace Corps, and become embroiled in such a dangerous situation, is utterly amazing to me. I am so glad to learn that it all ended happily ever after with your Frenchman beau (now your husband). How romantic!
What a delightful read. The whole thing is perfect. Thank you for sharing your writing talent and exciting lifestyle with us.
THANK YOU, SHERRI GIBSON AND THE
SIMPLY POSITIVE GROUP FOR THE MERIT BADGE
"SIMPLY POSITIVE GROUP"
THANK YOU, WHOME FOR THE UPGRADE.
(NOW I CAN USE THIS SIG AGAIN):
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
This is a nice flash fiction. The story is about a guy named 'Guy' who wants to be like Michael Jordan; the problem is, "he can’t dunk. he's too short, too slow...and too dumb."
I like the part where you call him fat and skinny at the same time. Guy wants to prove that he can be like MJ, and he tries to dunk the ball. Well...
Except for the "wished" (should be wish) at the beginning, and the “My bad” (I don't understand what it means), I really didn't find any grammar issue. The flow is better than the last story I read from your port.
I think the title is brilliant. However, it suggests humor, and i didn't find much of that in the story.
You must be from Europe, like the United Kingdom, because of the way you spelled some of the words, like ''recognised' instead of the American's 'recognized'. That doesn't concern me though. The story didn't flow well for me, and I almost lost interest in reading by the third paragraph, but I persisted. That always pays off, because I don't like to give up on anything I've started to do.
I like the fact that this is not the typical "good-guy-Lancelot-always-wins-ang-gets-the-girl-too" story. Cailean is humiliated by being bested by his tomboyish sweetheart and daughter of the king. But no big deal, they still end up riding together to the finish line.
There are some grammatical errors and incorrect word choices in the manuscript. I think some serious editing is needed here for improvement. The story has potential, and with some tweaking here and there, it can really be a very good story.
Thanks for the opportunity to review your work. Good luck.
I'm sorry to learn that you've lost your mom, and that her life was claimed by this dreadful disease known as Alzheimer's. I hope she, as well as your family, didn't suffer much from the dehumanizing toll of this illness.
You felt a lot of jealously and anger toward your mom all your life because you thought she loved and wanted you less than your brother and other things. The following lines in the last stanza suggest that you still felt that way at her death. If that's the case, that is just so sad. (Also, change 'loosing' to 'losing'.)
"At thirty five I think I will never be happy anymore loosing you to Alzheimer’s
I am jealous and angry, but mom I love you more than ever"
(Maybe you were jealous and angry that Alzheimer's took her away from you?)
"Simple words whispered on the wind"; "Swirls like a phantom notion"; "a pond of mythical wonders"; "coral moon"; "willowy afterglow of time"; "moist eventide expectancy of love" . . . . Oh, my...what do all these phrases mean? What have I been missing in my semi-young romantic life not to understand the meaning of your cryptic messages? Just joking. But honestly, you string words only Eros can fully comprehend. I'm no poet, so I can't give you any suggestions for improvement; not that I think it needs it. I leave that to the expert poets.
A beautiful poem for beautiful Maria. What a lucky lady.
Okay, so I am no longer as tired as I thought; therefore, I trudge on. Your novel is such a page-turner and reader-friendly that I simply cannot put it down.
You open with a question: "What is it about coming home that makes us want to walk through memory lanes and resurrect some childhood experiences that might only bring more pain and tears?" How true this is. Although I'm still relatively young and haven't experienced any heartbreaking experiences in my childhood, it is my aunt Sarah's bout with Alzheimer's that brings a lot of pain in my heart when I listen to her occasionally remember her past.
In this chapter, Mary remembers and longs for the friends she'd known since childhood. "Where are they now? How come no one’s banging on my door to welcome me and invite me to a "Hail Mary" homecoming party?" she wonders. Then you touch on something here that jolted me a bit as Mary talks about the names that elude her. "It’s scary that at 32, I am already becoming forgetful of names. I need some Ginko Biloba!" It sounds funny, but never something we should take lightly based on my personal experience..
I love this phrasing: "Inevitably, old photo albums are exhumed from their resting places --the photo cemetery located somewhere in Malia’s attic. After the sticky cobwebs and dusts are swept off the album covers, the ghosts of yesterdays are released from the pressed pages. Now I am ready to stroll down foggy lanes of memory. "
What would we do without photographs to view to bring us back to the past? In many ways, it's quite therapeutic, as I do that a lot with my Aunt Sarah to exercise her Alzheimer's memory. In your novel, we get to know Mary a lot more through her photo viewing, and it's all interesting and a great way to connect Mary to the reader.
We also feel compassion for the family tragedies as Mary continue to look through the pictures and reminisce about the past, especially about her father's murder.
Thank you for the enjoyable read, Maria. This is great stuff, and I am continuing to feel extremely pleased that I have finally started reading this novel.
This is virtually error free. I have no suggestions for improvement.
Another terriffic beginning. You open up with Mary's inebriated kind of feeling caused by the effects of the Benadryl, which she took to make her fall asleep on the plane. Then comes William--the volcano scientist from the USGS who's in the Philippines to keep track of Mt. Pinatubo's seismic activities. The meeting of the two is very well done and realistic. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
William and Mary seem perfect for each other who share the same obsession toward mountains that are alive and furious. Their conversations about volcanoes and their reminiscenses of Mt. St. Helens' eruption all sound very believable to me; I can also feel the attraction brewing between them and I'm rooting for them to get together. The only problem here is Mary's marital status. I can't wait to see how you handle this morality situation
in the story.
This is virtually error free. I have no suggestions for improvement.
I love it, I love it. I look forward to reading the next chapter.
It's one of those very rare lazy weekends for me. I have a little touch of the flu and I need a lot of rest. Aunt Sarah is away for the weekend with my parents, so I now have the luxury of making good on my promises to read this novel, and I'm so glad I've embarked on it because this is just perfect to get lost in a different realm far, far away -- in the exotic land of the Philippines.
You open up with a mysterious woman aboard Philippine Air Lines en route to the Philippines. Mary--the protagonist--is instantly intrigued by the woman, whom you describe in such a way that the reader is equally fascinated by her. Great job. Her appearance, as well as that of the flight attendant's, makes Mary recall her childhood vanity; the nose-lifting technique episode is very funny. I enjoyed that very much.
Mary's remembrance of her mother's change of heart about those people who had done her wrong, her father's marital unfaithfulness, and the cataclysmic eruption of Mt. Pinatubo are all very interesting, and it didn't bother me that all this information is contained in the beginning chapter of the novel. It just makes me want to read on and on to find out more.
Great chapter one. I didn't find any error in grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc., nor do I have any suggestions for improvement. Personally, I don't think you should change a thing here.
Great attitude. It doesn't sound like something I would actually do, but maybe upon a slight modification it may just work for me. (I help take care of my Aunt Sarah who lives with Alzheimer's, and I never know when an "incident" may occur.)
Thanks for sharing this. I read it word for word and even sang the refrain after the read.
You wantedcto disown your mother because you thought she did when she sent you away "on a vacation", which ended up living with your dad and his new wife. You chose to call the other woman "Mom" because you thought your own mom didn't want you anymore.
You were 29 when you were told your mother had died of heart attack, and you thought you caused her heart to break. You'd find out later that she committed suicide because she was simply tired of taking care of others (contained in previous entry. My confusion about this is how she could have taken care of other people when she couldn't take care of you.)
In this poem, you talk a little more about the letter; still, I find no compelling reason why you think your letter might have had a part in your mom's decision to end her life.
You speak of your older brother who "always looking out for us, making sure we were taken care of" -- how many were you?
This is a quick read, but emotion-packed. I felt the bitterness, the angst you manifested in this poem.
Here you open up your heart and soul about your mother's death; your letter of 1992, which you blame for her suicide. I have yet to find out what you wrote in that letter. You think of your youth, and how you grew up not being taken care of by her, at least not the way you think a mom must take care of her daughter.
Again, good job. I have no suggestions for improvement.
Again, as in the previous two entries to this anthology, I felt the emotions you conveyed in this poem.
In this poem you go back to your mom's trailer, which is now inhabited by smelly cats, and you remember your grandma's trailer that smelled of moth balls when you were young. You're looking for a letter you had written to your mom, something that might had something to do with her suicide.
I look forward to finding out what was in the letter.
No matter how difficult your relationship with your mom was growing up and through your adulthood, I feel a lot of love emanating from your being as you remember the sweet moments you spent with her, like drawing with her. The picture you painted holding hands with your mom is precious.
It's so nice to know that through the pains caused by misunderstandings, you still wanted to be like her in many ways.
An emotional poem that pulls on the heart strings. Good job.
I look forward to reading the next entry to this anthology.
I'm sorry for your loss. You seem to carry a huge amount of guilt for the death of your mom. I have not been in your situation, thank the Lord for that, and I pray that you learn how to forgive yourself for your part of the difficult life you had with your mother.
I look forward to reading the next entry in this anthology.
Oh, my goodness, Mr. Powell, this is amazingly good. I was captivated from beginning to end, although the deep fascination did not start till you started talking about the solitary confinement. What a story!
What intrigued me right away about this is the misplacement of the pink thumb drive. I write everything by hand in journal books then I transcribe and edit stuff on the computer. Well, during the family summer vacation in So. CA, I lost my bag containing two journal books. Even though I had my name and address and phone number on each book, no one has come forth yet to return them to me. I was so upset I stopped writing. Slowly though, I am getting back into it.
Anyway, this is about you; not me. So, on to your story.
I've known about you through your superb writings, as well as your marital connection with Lisa Powell. I feel that I have come to know you much better through this incredible story. Six and a half months in solitary confinement? I want to know more. What was the crime you were accused of? When did this happen? How did you get out? And so on, and so on. I hope you make a sequel to this story. I'm sure many of your fans here would like to read more.
I'm glad you found the 400 pages of writing material. I hope I eventually recover mine.
Wow, this is quite a story. I love poems written like this. I don't have to guess what the writer is conveying, and you've done a great job at it. I'm not very good with cryptic messages set in poetry, so I am thankful when I don't have to think too much but simply enjoy the read. (That's why I don't write poetry.)
"From Ashes To Ashes" tells a story about a family who, on the 18th of May 1980 was looking forward to the coming home of the father from work 90 miles away. I guess he didn't come home everyday because of the distance? It was the father's birthday, and the day started out as a beautiful sunny day; but mid-morning, the day turned to night with the eruption of Mt. St. Helens.
This is great: We attended the morning mass at St. Mary’s and prayed some more.
Then the earth shook under our feet followed by a thunderous roar.
Father John urged his parishioners to stay calm, only to be ignored
Earthquake! Earthquake! People screamed and rushed out the door.
The sun had disappeared, turned day into night, people fled in horror.
"Oh, my God," an old woman screamed, "it’s the end of the world!"
The father had a heart attack driving home and died. In the end, the family spread the father's ashes over Spirit Lake. What an ending. It's so sad.
You haven't set up your bio-blog. I would like to know more about this poet who writes about Mt. St. Helens. Another author here writes about volcanoes, too. Check her out: writeartista
I've been away for a while, but now I'm back. I've been removed from the newbie group, so I guess I'm no longer a newbie. Oh, now I'm really challenged.
I was looking through several groups or forums to join, and after perusing this one, which seems to be teeming with enthusiastic members, if you'd accept me I'd like to join. How can I go wrong with such an encouraging name for the group? "SIMPLY POSITIVE FORUM" is definitely what I need at this time.
Great job in organizing this, Sherri. I look forward to your response.
"The Tattoo" is an unforgettable prose. I was deeply touched and felt spellbound as I read every line. I never knew that in the old Hebrew language; God's name is represented by YHWH.
I love the internal tatoo that illustrates the true love one feels about God. I know I am personally prejudicial against people who cover their bodies with tatoos, when deep inside, they might have a heart of gold with inscriptions that profess their love of God.
I've never been to your port before, but rest assured that you will see me again.
Your writing is virtually perfect. I didn't see a single mistake.
Great job. Thank you for sharing. I look forward to reading more of your work.
Beautiful, heart-warming story about a family being together on a less-than conducive day for fishing on the lake -- a moment frozen in time that would last through generations. What had been an imperfect and gloomy day turned out to be the most perfect for an old man because the picture reminds him of that time when his family was together.
There are no mistakes noted. It seems flawless to me.
I have read the Prologue, and the first six chapters of this very engaging novel of yours, and I can't wait to continue reading through your nineteen chapters. I have quickly glimpsed at chapter 19, and from what I can see, you are far from finished. How long is this saga going to be?
This story is about the eruption of Mount Pinatubo in the Philippines, and the lives of several families deeply affected by the eruption. When the main character, May--the protagonist--returns home to visit, she uncovers many secrets about her father and his illegitimate children. After 19 chapters, we still do not know who kidnapped and murered him; we still don't know why her mother decided to forgive "all those who trespassed against her and her family. I love Mary's romantic angles with different men; we still don't know what is causing the marital problems between her and her husband in the U.S. Will she get together with William, the volcanologist, or Diosdado, the Filipino military hero? How about the mystery of the Filipino/American woman who returned to the Philippines only to lose her entire family from the volcano eruption? What is her connection with Mary? Lots of interesting stuff going on here.
Loved the action and adventure part of the story. I can't wait to read more.
Write on.
(Alz Heimer)
Author of: "I -- Someday, She'll Forget Who I Am" -- based on a true story about my Aunt Sarah ...a once vibrant and intelligent woman who loses her memory and her identity from Alzheimer's disease..
Once again, you delight me with your simple but sensual and meaningful words and phrases of love and romance. We should all remember those feelings when a simple hush word from a lover can send mirages upon the mind when he calls, filling the silent days.with sensual thoughts
Great job.
.
(Alz Heimer)
Author of: "I -- Someday, She'll Forget Who I Am" -- based on a true story about my Aunt Sarah ...a once vibrant and intelligent woman who loses her memory and her identity from Alzheimer's disease..
I have been adopted by a mentor in The Angel Army "The WDC Angel Army" {e:note5
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Once again, an incredible work from a fellow newbie. I have enjoyed reading "Sensuality of Writing" , and "Literary Ambrosia" , so much that I can't get enough of it. I wish I had your poetic talent. I've read where you wrote all five poems posted on your port in one week. That's incredible. You have to share your secret with me.
This work is a wonderful blend of ancient history and mythology--both of which I almost failed in school. (Math is my thing.) I recognized, and familiar with, Medussa, Troy, Ithaca, and Odysseus; but frankly, the only Pyros I know has something to do with the "Porno for Pyros" - an alternative rock album (No, I'm not a fan of hte band).
It's amazing to me how you can interpolate various historical and mythological figures in a short piece and make your own extrapolation to create an amazing story within the poem.
Great job.
Write on.
(Alz Heimer)
Author of: "I -- Someday, She'll Forget Who I Am" -- based on a true story about my Aunt Sarah ...a once vibrant and intelligent woman who loses her memory and her identity from Alzheimer's disease..
Ohmigod, this is so, very very good. I never thought one could translate the frustrations of writing and rejection in such a mesmerizing way. You have used all the senses necessary to write a powerful piece, and you've succeeded at it. If you can write fiction the way you write poems, my goodness; see you at book signing.
I LOVE the ending! It was so unexpected. It made me smile.
My favorite part:
Where is the mood ... the elixir
that puts the soul in a manuscript?
Where's the spirit that brings a tale to life,
that impetus born within my muse?
I felow newbie suggested your poem to me. I am so glad she did.
Thank you for sharing your incredible poem. I loved every bit of it. I don't think I've ever written anything about the writing process as sensual as this.
My favorite:
A collage of verbs,
of scintillating adjectives,
etched onto the canvas.
A body shaped by imagination,
bathed and scented
with oils of inspiration.
After I finished reading it, I went back to the beginning and read it again ...then again. That's how captivated I was by this. Simply beautiful
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