Essays Fiction and Poetry by Andrea LeDew
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Essays Fiction and Poetry by Andrea LeDew
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{The first line of this poem came from former President Obama’s remarks on the tragic shootings that afflicted El Paso Texas and Dayton Ohio this week. I thought the expression “people of goodwill” sounded outdated and quaint enough to be poetic, and the rest flowed from it. This is my response to the stalling that …
{This week for What Pegman Saw we are in the Black Hills, South Dakota, USA. Many moons ago I visited there, when I lived in Minnesota. But this story is mostly about the rich heritage of Indigenous culture in the Midwest, and how little we tend to respect what has gone before the current dominant …
{I wrote this poem as a salute to all the women through the generations, who have been required to play second fiddle in their own marriages, allowing their husband to be dominant, even at the risk of losing their own identity. Fortunately I have not had such a marital experience myself, though I have experienced …
{This is a response to a prompt from Friday Fictioneers, limited to 100 words. Thanks for the prompt and thank you for stopping by to read!} “Who’s ‘at?” Amos squinted, silver brows furrowed against the lake’s sparkle. The seaplane’s skis alighted. As flawless and practiced as a sparrow. “Idiot Boxer. Him again. …
{What Pegman Saw is an international romp around the world in 150 words, addressing a different locale each week. This week the locale is Bhutan. My connection to Bhutan, I fear, is pretty weak. The picture on the Pegman website has a goat in it, and haircloth was sometimes made of goat’s hair. I have …
Downtown street scene with two-story-tall white sculpture of a woman’s head and neck, with her armless hands covering her eyes. PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot {This photo prompt from Friday Fictioneers reminded me of the three monkeys of yore, covering their eyes, ears and mouth, respectively, and how, at least in the olden days, some …
{A poem from when my father was in the hospital, invoking the spirit of my mother, the poet. Thanks for reading.} A channeler of style, A sycophant of fluff, I’m churning milky memories, Here, sitting on my duff: Your oh-so-many notebooks; Your gnarled, arthritic hands. Oh, can’t you please extend them To soothe …
{This poem was written while my father was hospitalized in the North Carolina Mountains. Pebbledash is a building material in which pebbles are inserted into plaster. Thank you for stopping by and for forgiving my inevitable absence from these pages during this rocky time. } The rock on which I found my life; The spring …
{I have been away from my blog while my father has been hospitalized in North Carolina. His unfortunate accident caused him to become infected with a bacteria. Hence my ode to this powerful pathogen. In his highly-drugged state, when he first came to the hospital, he referred to his infection as “poison.” So I …
{I have been away from my blog due to my father’s hospitalization in North Carolina. This poem describes the jarring cheerfulness of Nature in the face of human tragedy. In the end, such beauty can help inspire hope in us all. “Parking sparrows” refers to birds, chirping in the underground parking lot of the …
{This is a street scene from the beachiest place I know, Key West. It’s a response–a late one–to Friday Fictioneers, a 100-word prompt with the photo above. I hope you will indulge me, in my gratuitous train metaphor. Henry Flagler built train tracks, from Jacksonville south, down along the East coast of Florida. All the …
{We have had the sorrowful occasion, lately, to attend funerals and memorial gatherings. I composed this poem to express a certain sense of being an impostor, of lost opportunity and self-reproach, which one might feel, during such a ceremony. Especially, when the deceased happens to be someone, one has not gotten to know well, …
Young blindfolded girl, playing pin the tail on the donkey, against an outdoor concrete wall. PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll {This is in response to a photo prompt by Friday Fictioneers. The assignment is to write 100 words. This picture made me think of birthday parties, and the girl, all alone, made me …
{This is a response to What Pegman Saw, several days late, I’m afraid. I have been involved, in helping to organize my local WordCamp, and that has led to many an hour, producing dry announcements for social media, rather than…ahem…literature. This poem is very tenuously related to Madagascar, in that, there are horses there, …
{This is a response to the Friday Fictioneers 100 word challenge. Thank you for the prompt and thank you for reading, swimmers and non-swimmers alike!} Webs of light bounced over the tile walls. Erratically, as if volleyed back and forth, on a chlorine breeze. Lila lay on her back, effortlessly hoisted up, on strong, liquid …
{I wrote this, after reading Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman, a retelling of the old Norse tales. One story is about a special mead, that, when you drink it, enables you to spout poetry. This is called “tasting Odin’s gift” according to Gaiman’s story, “The Mead of Poets.” I could not help but remember …
{This story is in response to a photo prompt from Friday Fictioneers. We are to write a 100-word piece, based on the photo. This time, it looked like somewhere out West to me, hence, the voice. And even though there’s snow on the ground, the building, roofless and abandoned, must’ve had something happen to it. …
This story is in response to What Pegman Saw, a fiction prompt series, that promises a weekly whirlwind tour of the world. Each story of 150 words uses a location on Google Maps, as inspiration. This time, we are in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, (or “PA” as we used to say) in the US. This area …
Another rhyme. Don’t know what set me off on the medical profession, but no worries, it will pass. I’m sure the memory-scarring tooth-pulling scene from “BBC’s Les Miserables” on Masterpiece didn’t help much. Anyway, enjoy my complaint, in verse. Thank you for coming by to read. They won’t bother Checking your weight When they’re carving …
{This is a sing-song-y little rhyme I came up with, while driving. I finally had to pull over, and write it down, when it got too long to remember. Hope you enjoy it. “Gespenst,” in German, means spectre, or ghost. The poem just sounded better, using that word. The picture reminded me of the …
{This is a response to What Pegman Saw, a globe-hopping 150-word prompt based on Google Maps. Each week we go to a new location, which this week is the city of Lod in Israel. If you go to the link above, you can see the city today in 360 view. I’d like to say …
{This is a response to Friday Fictioneers, a 100-word photo prompt each week. This beach reminded me of a couple we knew, who took a vacation to Cancun, just as Hurricane Gilbert decided to pound across the Caribbean, and hit the Yucatan Peninsula, as a Category Five Hurricane. Chichen Itza is one of the …
This is a response to the prompt from What Pegman Saw, which uses Google Maps to provide inspiration for 150-word pieces. This is mine, and the prompt was Cusco, Peru. I remembered an acquaintance in college went on a mission trip to Cusco, and I seem to remember her reaction to the poverty she …
{This is a response to Friday Fictioneers, but also a response to the events of the week. “Tristesse” (Etude, Op.10, No. 3) is a beautiful piece, written for piano by the Polish composer who spent much of his short life in France, Frédéric Chopin. The meaning of the word in French is “sadness.” A …
