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So glad you have signed up to receive the For Random Learning Comes Newsletter! This is the ninety-seventh edition. People keep asking me, what's going to happen, when you get to 100?
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I don't have the answer to that yet but stay tuned!
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This newsletter is a special holiday issue with selections suited to this time of year listed first. I hope you will enjoy the replays as well as anything that may be new to you.
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As for my writing news, not much has happened since JaxbyJax. The holidays tend to get in the way of concentration and quiet, both which make writing easier. I have concocted a few poems, but nothing worthy of the light just yet.
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Thanks for reading and happy holidays!
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P.S. The picture is of a sleigh in the great hall of Arundel Castle, a place I visited on my spring trip to the South of England.
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A poem for all those we miss,and those we have trouble being with during the holidays.
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A poem invoking the fairy tale character of Rumpelstiltskin to describe the modern Christmas season and analyze what, if anything, has been lost.
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This poem describes a meeting between beasts to decide whether certain human beings should be allowed in their neighborhood.
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This poem is perfectly suited for the full moon skies we are experiencing at present. Not exactly a Halloween poem, this was inspired by a story on JSTOR called Feminism's Hidden Spiritual Side. It outlined how early feminists, disgruntled by the male slant of existing religions, often dabbled in non-patriarchal spiritual practices, including Theosophy, Spiritualism and Paganism. Now, I am …
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Christmas This Year (2020)
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Hope the holiday season is treating you well this year. Or at least as well as can be expected, in a year where everything else seems to be going wrong. I was touched by an item in the news this week, meant for the tenderest ears, and I could not resist making a rhyme about it. I hope …
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At Christmas
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When I wrote this poem, I was contemplating how strange this Christmas season seems. How different, from all the previous Christmases. I cannot bring myself to buy a Christmas tree, to bake cookies, to play carols. I hesitate to celebrate, as if to do so might invite disaster. This pandemic came thick upon the heels of my father's passing, …
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Snowed
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This is my response to the photo prompt of the week for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks for the prompt and for coming by to read! When Matilda and Lars, ten years married, arrived at the bed-and-breakfast, the road seemed rocky and bare. The falling mercury, snow’s harbinger, tantalized and tingled their flesh. White Christmas lights beckoned, from the long white porch. …
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Filcher's Row
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{This is in response to a prompt from Friday Fictioneers. The task is to write 100 words, inspired by the photo. For those of you who don't know, a "shingle" is a sign, bearing the name of a law office, and having your name on the shingle generally indicates you are a partner or owner. All errors, of course, …
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Riverside Luminaria
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This week Friday Fictioneers presents this lovely photo, to inspire a 100-word piece. Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff -Fields, for running this weekly challenge, and Carla Bicomong, for use of the picture. I strayed a little, from a literal interpretation of the photo, this time, but stuck with the paper lantern theme...For those of you who don't know, Riverside is …
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The Next Best Thing to Snow (Short Story)
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It was December and Lulu was feeling sorry for herself. Of all the places her parents could have picked to move to at Christmas, Florida had to be the worst. No ice skating. No hurtling down hills on a toboggan. No hot chocolate hayrides through a frozen cranberry bog, or cross-country skiing. No snowshoeing through the fluffy white. No snowmen …
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This poem talks about the inconveniences of both physical winter and the winter of each of our lives.
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An homage to the St John's river in Florida and our pitiful attempts to control it.
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Fifteen: A Christmas Story
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Here I tell the story of three long-lost friends who re-unite for Christmas, and their journey toward closure, regarding the ones who will never reunite with them again. Thanks for coming by to read. Mama Jean didn’t know what to make of it. Driving a thousand miles Down South, watching the grit and crystalline ice-sand of the road give way …
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This poem is set at my father's cabin and reminds us, that places are not the same, without the people we expect to see there. A toast to all those we miss this winter! Thanks for coming by to read. In dreams, I slowly seek to climb The staircase of my father's house, The knotted pine beneath my tread, The …
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A poem about a rose and its remarkable ability to withstand the worst of winter and to flourish anyway, come spring.
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Ice Don't Keep
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{This is a short-short story of 100 words, in response to the weekly photo challenge called Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is the den mother of this operation. I have participated in this challenge since May 2018, but have been absent for a while, busy with other things. Still, I always enjoy coming back, for the comradery and encouragement of the …
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