“W” Wild Game by Newt Livesay

Poe skull

Maybe this should have been titled ” What the cat dragged in.” If you are stewing over how to get rid of that pesky corpse, a drive into the back country may be worth your while:

A boyhood friend of mine whom I spent many hours playing cowboys, army or camping out in the back yard with lived only a few blocks from my house. His parents were divorced and I spent many hours at his grandparents’ house where he lived. His grandfather had a small fishing bait store that sat on the highway leading to the lake. The area was semi-country with large open spaces between houses. Well one day while playing at my friend’s house, his grandfather came out and told us to find out what the dog was chewing on and go bury it. Seems the dog had been chewing and rolling on a stinky, meat morsel he had drug up from the woods. The dog would come welcome new customers when they drove up to the bait shop, and the smell from him rolling on the chunk of whatever was making people flee. My friend and I get a shovel and went to find the chew toy that Big Red had been playing with the last few days. Finding the doggy treat was surprising to say the least. At first we could not figure out what we were looking at until one of us took a stick and scraped away some of the lawn clipping and oak leaves stuff to its surface of the semi-round chunky treat. It had human teeth!  It scared the heck out of us two young pecker-woods and we went screaming across the yard like little sissy-girls looking for grandpa. A phone call brought the cops, local sheriff, and state police. It did not take long to find the body in the field across the street from the bait store. Seems the possums, coons, dogs, domestic house cats and assorted wild vermin had scattered what was left of it over a couple hundred square feet. The man’s identity was made from the half dozen upper teeth still in the meat ball. With the price of gold now, my friend and I should have spent a few minutes checking his teeth I guess, but that is hind sight and I should have also bought Coke-a-Cola and Wal-Mart stock while I am lamenting.

**

I am winding up the A to Z month with some handy tips for writers. My very good friend Newt Livesay is deliberate in his research and since crime is his genre he has to figure out a way for his “bad guys” get rid of bodies. Newt did a blog called the body disposal group where these different “pieces” are taken from.

Newt is finalizing a novel set in New Orleans titled: “The Man that Tattooed Women.” This novel  is one part serial killer one part raging hurricane which sums up to a thrilling ride. If you like a book that you can’t put down and you find yourself screaming”RUN”  at the characters, then you will like this story. The novel should be in e-book form by this summer.

You can find Newt at Facebook  onTwitter he is @newtlivesay. If you or anyone you know has served in the military, it is quiet likely that they used a Livesay knife to stay alive. Newt is an excellent writer and a dear friend and I am grateful for the tips he is sharing for the letters T-W!!!

***

Now for the Disclaimer – This blog does not suggest that anyone should do anything that would be considered illegal. This is a blog for writers to use for research, and as comical relief of a very serious problem. If you do not understand this fully, or you think this give you the rights to commit an illegal act, you’re one sick bastard, and you should seek competent mental counseling immediately.
 All rights reserved  (c) 2015 by Newt Livesay

W

Wow it’s “W” and A to Z Challenge is wrapping up this week. More A to Z folks to meet:

 

1075.
1096.
1097.
1100.
1106.
1107.
1113.
1120.

 

Bright are the Bows Brighter the Memories #thepast #poetry #holidays

“Life’s memories are like packages with bright bows” ~ L. Moon

gifts

I look at you from north, south, east, and west

like a cat I watch you and wait

sitting on the edge of expectation

don’t pretend that you are inert

you who shine with brilliant colors

holding poignant the past

underneath your cheerful bow

it is all I can do to be patient

“don’t shake the box”

I hear a cherished voice

one I thought I would never lose

every gift you wrapped

was filled with thought

down to a holly sprig or jolly elf

perched on top of the bow

what is inside this time?

recollections do play tricks

and you have to accept the mix

of jovial, spicy and sad

I’d rather not hear the crunch of paper

like the dead leaves of winter

I’d rather look at my reflection

of a much younger me

in precious grey old eyes

and remember the

Christmas Memory

Merry Christmas to each of you. May the songs that you hear and the scents that permeate your world bring you memories to keep you warm!!!

Yellowed Christmas Memories #poetry #photography #dpchallenge

 

 

Brown are the edges

where so many fingers

over years have creased

 the words always warm

Yellow still the Christmas star

that brilliantly shines

in my child’s mind

over silent hill

Golden are the memories

songs long ago sung

visits to the City of Paris

beautiful ornaments they hung

Scrooge Merry Christmas

The prompt this week for Word Press Photo Challenge is Yellow.

My Friend the Tree #childhood #poetry #photography

those trees

Once

a friend was a tree

sometimes it was a “she”

while other times it was a “he”

I

looked up to you

and I sang to my heart’s content

you never minded all the time that we spent

Had

you a person been

you would have complained

when on your limbs I climbed and played

A

little sappy

I liked how your leaves sang

you’d tickle me as I’d swing and hang

Tall

like a mighty ship

I could spy from the highest tip

trying to keep my feet from a serious slip

Friend

 you never told secrets

I could hide when I was afraid

memories in your golden boughs I would never trade

one fall leaf

The prompt for Poet’s United Mid-week Motif is Trees.

What memories do you have as a child in the trees????

Why I Left My Heart in San Francisco #poetry #photography

palace-of-fine-arts.jpg
Palace of Fine Arts ~ L. Moon 2010

memories of a child

filtered through the glass of the rainbow

stained and etched color jubilee

standing on a rocking bench

bay wind lashing clothes and hair

no thought that the waves

and you so wee

could make you its bobbing captive

Memories of a child

filtered through the glass of the rainbow

grasping for the end of the stars

dancing to the ringing chimes

of the bell calling out through the fog

ride me to the end of the line

those jaunty cable cars

catch the end of tomorrow

Memories of a child

filtered through the glass of the rainbow

feeding squirrels her task

Golden Gate park their chosen home

It’s It dripping through small fingers it's it

The Art Deco pavilion a staid lady

musical notes of the past in her grasp

a view of a garden paradise

Memories of a child

filtered through the glass of the rainbow

never letting go

the sounds and smells

of the city she loves best

her heart is left behind

pressed in the pages of a living album

San Francisco

her city – her home

800px-
photograph of Edwin Deakin’s painting ~ 1915

Artwork: Edwin Deakin

Photographer: Thanks to Mark James Miller for allowing public domain access to this work

“Palace of Fine Arts” © L. Moon

I remember… #writing #writingchallenge

bucket of tears

memories cascading over memories

caught in a 3 by 3 black and white image

toddling in white

the camera moves forward

or is it backward

capturing the larger scene

tears that fall like waterfalls

the smallness of her age cannot

gather the drops in her bucket

so she looks to the source

and smiles

sun beams radiate from her face

the tears continue to flow

but in that radiance there is a goal

the camera pans out further

a man carries off his belongings

in two boxes and a large suitcase

he doesn’t look back

at the toddler in white

or the waterfall

steam rises off his black car as he zooms away from us

forever

years later my fingers caress the silk ties he left behind

to me that is hope he will return

she knows in her heart the date and occasion that each tie was given to him

but there are no more waterfalls

just a desert wasteland

of dried up emotion

my white togs grow grey with time

and poverty overwhelms us

and yet we are happy

in a simple world of black and white

brown and grey

the camera pans over a sea of paint

little fingers dabble

a woman’s hands portray life

on canvas after canvas

and life and hope and even a bit of love are reborn

upon a brush filled with color

the camera pans back

walls hold colorful beauty

eyes and smiles peruse the canvas

we still can’t always get enough money for clothing or food

but the stories on the paint filled canvases

are more

than

enough

for this not so little girl

and her talented mother

This is an unedited freewriting exercise inspired by Krista at wordpress weekly writing challenge. The two requirements: write about a memory (starting with the words I remember), write for ten minutes.

Photograph: “Bucket of Tears” © L. Moon 2013

 

other wonderful writes:

  1. The Tides & Times- Good old days | Inception
  2. Earliest Memory | alienorajt
  3. Weekly Writing Challenge: I Remember 4th Grade | Under the Monkey Tree
  4. Weekly Writing Challenge : I remember | Valley Girl Gone Country
  5. Weekly Writing Challenge : I remember | Valley Girl Gone Country
  6. Weekly Writing Challenge: I remember | Improving Slowly
  7. DPChallenge | Weekly writing challenge | I remember…. | thechymeeradiaries
  8. Daily Post’s Writing Challenge | Bloggeta
  9. Weekly Writing Challenge: I remember | Stay Awake
  10. Weekly Writing Challenge: I Remember My Father Passing « IF I ONLY HAD A TIME MACHINE
  11. The Moose | A Sign Of Life
  12. I remember… | HRHDana
  13. I Remember | A Little Fluff
  14. Weekly Writing Challenge: I Remember Before Words | SERENDIPITY
  15. I remember | Sue’s Trifles
  16. Weekly Writing Challenge: I remember | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss
  17. I remember random | antfantasy
  18. Intercontinental Hooping Express | Mary Hoops
  19. I remember… #writing #writingchallenge | Moondustwriter’s Blog
  20. Weekly Writing Challenge | BeYouToday-Wellness

All That’s Left #photography #memories #loved one #death

left

I feel her walk  in a whisper

scent of fresh linen wafts past

the crinkle of parchment

an old lighthearted  laugh

“Lavendar Blue”

through an old RCA

the taste of black licorice

and squeezed lemonade 

transport me back

to the ways of old

where the things black and white

were in stories you told

I clasp all that I have

a sepia of you

the memories inside

will have to get me through