So, I started writing that novel – you know, that one I’ve been meaning to write since I was 18.  I actually have started it several times and have worked on it sporatically.  Well, I decided that if I was going to actually keep working on it, then I would have to do something about it.  You know – make me accountable.

So I’ll be posting individual chapters on the blog.  I would love any feedback, but understand if you just skip these posts.  If you would like to read chapter one, here is the link.  Or you can use the menu at the top.  Enjoy!

Chapter 1

——————

Chapter 2

“Is Scott driving today?”

“I bet he is and I’m riding in the front.  Preferably in the middle.”  A chorus of giggles erupted from the circle of girls.

“Sharon you are so bad.  Do you think Scott will date you this year?” asked a tall blond.

With a glint in her blue eyes, Sharon responded, “I’m going to do everything in my power to encourage it.  Jessica isn’t coming back this year, so as far as I’m concerned he is free and clear.”

“Think you’ll have any competition from the new girls,” asked a short, gymnast looking girl.  Just then the whole group scanned the others around them and looked right at Anna, who was studiously looking at her shoes pretending not to hear their conversation.

“Definitely not. Scott wouldn’t be interested in any of these girls.”

Anna whipped her head up and shot the girl named Sharon a dark look.

“Humph!  Who does she think she is?” responded Sharon loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Don’t worry about her.  Last summer Scott was totally flirting with you when Jessica wasn’t around.  And he was really friendly after the First Aid training meeting on Saturday.”

“Yeah, he was,” Sharon answered with a firm nod and turned away from Anna, forgetting about her.

Anna couldn’t believe that she dared to give anyone a dirty look and was afraid she had already made an enemy.  While she was thinking about how to make the situation better, a large black Ford F-150 pulled into the parking lot.  The windows were tinted, but Anna knew by the giggles, smiles, and shuffling that Scott must be the one driving.  On Saturday, Anna hadn’t noticed his hair, which was as black as his truck.  From across the parking lot she was struck by how dark it was and wondered why she didn’t notice earlier.

“Okay everyone, gather around,” bellowed Bill, the manager of the camp.  Anna wondered how a man that old, he had to be in his 60’s, could have the energy to do this every summer.  “Now who are our drivers? Raise your hands.”

Anna’s hand went up with Scott and three others.

“Okay now raise up how many other people you can take in your car, not including yourself and everyone find a place to ride.  Go,” Dave instructed.

Anna reluctantly held up three fingers.  Technically she could hold 4 if needed, but that would be really uncomfortable in her little car.  The group of girls from earlier had all surrounded Scott once he got there, so he truck was already full.  Everyone else’s cars filled up quickly while Anna was still waiting and holding up her three fingers.  It felt like gym class all over again; being chosen last for the team.  Anna’s face slowly turned more and more red.

“Why did I ever volunteer to drive,” thought Anna. “You wanted the freedom of having your own car and driving into town,” she reminded herself.  Although Anna was shy, she valued her independence too much to rely on other people.  She knew that she would probably want to get away on her days off and didn’t want to depend on other people.  What was left when everyone had chosen their rides were three quiet people, who looked just as lost as Anna felt.  Not wanting to let everyone know she was embarrassed by being chosen last Anna yelled to the left over people, “Come on! I hope you like loud music and speeding.”

“Hold on there Anna,” Bill said.  “Here are the maps. And we are all meeting at the gas station off Highway 34 in Gaskill.  The road to the camp is hard to find.”

“I’ll be there.  First!  Come on guys,” Anna ushered her bashful car mates into her car and shot Scott a daring look.

Scott yelled out to Anna just as she was getting in, “We’ll see about that in that little car of yours.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.  I’ll be waiting for you at the gas station,” Anna shouted as she started her car and took off before she even checked to see if everyone had their seat belts on.  Scott was stuck while his gaggle of girls had to arrange their seating with Sharon front and center, of course.

Last night I didn’t sleep.  No really.  I never fell asleep.  Finally around 4:30 I got up and started writing.  As I was writing, I noticed the sun coming up and my room getting lighter and lighter.  I thought I would go and watch the sun rise, while I wrote outside.  I wrote a whole series of haiku’s, which I will post on my haiku blog this week.  Here is the haiku that I am going to post for today.

Sunrise

Slowly the sun
grasps the mountain cliffs and peaks
over the valley.

(I like the double use of the word peaks – but I’m a word geek.)

Then I decided to take some photos.

This is the view at 5:30 am

Here is the view at 6:00 am

I like 5:30 am much, much better.  But I don’t plan on see that very often in my lifetime.

This summer, I have great plans to write.  I want to really start working on a book of poetry that I have in mind that I’m thinking I will self-publish.  Anyways . . . . I wrote a poem for my Grandpa Morris.  He died of cancer when I was 20 years old.  This is the only digital picture that I have of him and it isn’t a good one.  I scanned it in.

My Grandfather

died in hospice
doped up on morphine
to counteract the pain of
stomach-liver-lymphoid-intestinal-brain
cancer.
He was numb to the world around him
drooling on his pillow.

My father patiently
fed him ice from a cup,
waiting.
For that last breath
to leak out of his lungs.
For that last beat
to pump that last bit of blood.

Until eventually,
with the window open,
his spirit said upon the wings of a dove
to the wide open
cloudless skies.

So, I’m counting my calories and watching what I’m eating, so naturally, I’m craving chocolate.  Lots and lots of chocolate.  I wrote this poem about chocolate in church yesterday (you’ll notice the religious references.)

____
Chocolate

Pure joy fills my nose
Scenting sweet with a touch of better
Whether dark, white, or milk,
Melted or molded
Mouth watering.
Confectionary heaven
I sing praises
Shout acclimations
Give gratitude
for a small coca bean.
Manna from heaven.
For me.
____

I hope you enjoyed that, now go have a piece of chocolate for me.

My students are working on haiku’s.  So, I had them tell me a subject to write on and I wrote a haiku for them.  Here they are in all their glory and silliness.

Sickness

Each day I hack and
Cough and snuffle the mucus
In my nose and throat

Cowboys

Chaps and hats, tight jeans
Riding broncos and bucking
Bulls. They are real men.

Sunset

She bows gracefully
At the end of the evening,
Welcoming the night.

Summit

Crowded halls. Strutting
Students mark territory
Like male dogs in heat.

Photography

Click of the shutter
Shift of the lens – focusing.
Artistic beauty.

Shoes

Patent leather with
Four inch heels raising me up
To over six feet.

The Ring

It has a wide band
With a single solitaire
One caret diamond.

Bills

They come every day
Except on Sundays and I
Let them pile on up.

Madness

Padded walls inside
My head, blocking the daylight
Of my clear thinking.

Happiness Is

Being my own boss.
Walking my own street. Going
Down my own pathways.

I was teaching my students a creative writing exercise where you try to visualize a person – what they look like, smell like, what they are wearing, and any memories.  I wrote about my mother’s father.  He is 96 years old.

Grandfather Nye

You are the silent statue
Who stares out the front window
Into the fields of alfalfa.

Your hearing has long left on the
Howling, bitter wind that sweeps through
The open spaces of Southern Idaho.

I remember the times I crawled
Into your bed and cuddled into your
Soap-smelling flannel shirts.

Waking with the dawn, you rose,
Like the sun – slow and steady
To hard work and a quite, content life

Full of bread and milk at meals
Dairy cows, raising calves, state fairs
Watching Lawrence Welk on Saturday nights.

And so, I sit with you at the window
Holding your wrinkled, sun-spotted hand
And gaze out in peace at the wide world of the past.

I love this photo!  Mid – Shave.

Me and Grandpa sitting on the couch with my cousin’s son, his great-grandson.  The window I speak of in the poem in to the left.  It is a huge window that spans the entire wall.

Do you remember this post a while back letters from students.  If not, read it, because it will help you to understand this poem I wrote.  I also wrote this poem with my students, when I was teaching them how to do a 5 minute free write and then turn it into a poem.  (Once again, the formatting is weird)

Letters to Prison

I don’t want to write you.
I don’t know what to say.

You’re a loser.
I’m so disappointed in you.

I can’t write that.

What he wants to hear is:

I believe in you.

Which I don’t.

Everything will be fine.

Which it won’t.

You will never be okay.

How can I write that?
I can’t, so I won’t.

Sometimes we want to hear the lies.
Sometimes we don’t want the truth.

So, I’ll write:

Dear Jesse,

I don’t know what to say.

~Lesli

But, that is still a lie.

My hair and I have had a long and tempestuous relationship.  I recently cut my hair and I remembered a poem that I wrote to my hair while I was in college.

To My Hair

I work with you every day. No results.

Clinging to my head.

I’ve tried to curl you,

Dye you,

Rat you,

Even cut you short.

You refuse to cooperate.

Blow dryers, gel, mousse, and hair spray cannot help.

I refuse to end up like the old ladies at the

Harmon’s Customer Service desk,

Blue tinted hair, ratted five inches high

Over a gleaming scalp.

I warn you, I am looking at wigs.

Mount Timpanogos is the second largest mountain the Wasatach Mountain Range.  Every day in college I looked up at it.  Every day for the last four years I have driven by it.  I have hiked it 2 times and hiked to the Mount Timpanogos Caves 2 times in my life.  Needless to say, it is a fixture in my life.

This is a view of Mount Timpanogos near where I live now.  It looks like a sleeping woman.  Do you see it?  Her head would be to the left of the picture, followed by her breasts, and to the right, her feet.

When I was a child, I was told a legend about Mount Timpanogos.  The legend is different based on who is telling you the story.  There once was a young Indian maiden who fell in love with a man from another tribe.  When their families wouldn’t let them marry, she climbed to the top of Mount Timpanogos and jumped off.  Which is why the mount looks like a woman sleeping.  I also heard that Mount Timpanogos looks like a woman sleeping because she is the guardian over all the valley.  I seriously doubt that either of these legends are actually Native American legends, but were made up by others.

As I was going through some old poetry I have written, I came across this poem I wrote about Mount Timpanogos about three years ago.  It is a little (maybe more than a little) sensual.  I was actually surprised when I re-read it.

Mount Timpanogos

Her peaks curve gently,
Purposefully, like a
Woman’s body.
Each curve adds depth and
Beauty with a sweet
Innocence and
Simplicity.

The sun kisses her hips and
Dances across her breasts.
Winds cools her,
Blowing her hair
Sounding a soft rustling.
Rain washes across her
Back and down her legs
And gives us drink.

I climb to her peaks and
Look at the valley through
Her eyes.

Her people drink the
Sweat from her back.
They fly their kites
In the breath of her soft song.
They glow in the warmth
Of her reflective light.

They dance an innocent dance
Across the rolls of the earth.
They walk with a purpose
In their step,
Sheltered by her watchful gaze.

Here is another comic for you.

I need to work on my BLOCK / COMIC handwriting and my spacial awareness.  But this is fun!