Saturday, November 19, 2011


I told him, I did, and I wasn’t coy neither.
I told him straight out.
I said I don’t have time for all that,
I just want it quick and dirty.
It didn’t have to be dirty neither,
just quick.
Give it like you mean it
and you don’t need all the
extra fluff to get it done.
It’s not like he didn’t ever
do it before so I guess
I just expected him to
get it right.
I didn’t say it out loud
but I was thinking in my head:
I know you’re nervous
but just do it the way you do it
when you’re by yourself
and that’s the way to do it best.
But I didn’t want to
make him nervous
about giving it to me
so I just smiled.
He was nervous, too,
a little.
I could tell, nervous
even though he was only
giving me 10 sentences.

BIO: this pen 10 gotcha is the work of Olive Rosehips.  She loves to play with imaginations and big pens... like Waterman's.  What on earth were you thinking just now?  Even more importantly, can you give 10 sentences?

Wednesday, November 16, 2011


I’m not sure I ever began a letter with those words, but I’d like to take a stab at it. 
Can I tell you that I always admired you for your strength, your musical voice and sense of humor?
Can I tell you that I never felt so special than that time you confided in me on the way to Kennedy Airport?
Can I say that I saw your face shine, the first time you saw me in uniform?
Can I tell you that I should have known I could trust you to help me, always?
Can I tell you that I love you?
Well, now it is too late.
I suppose I could have written a letter of which I’d be proud .
Better yet, I could have written a letter to make you proud of me.
Most of all, I just could have written a letter.

BIO: Jim Hunkele


An elegant woman with perpetual blonde hair, she had the hint of a British accent giving her the aura of mystique.
The lady would not stand on ceremony. 
Befriending the wealthy, the wretched, the weak and the well off, she was mother to seven, but mothered so many more. 
Always time for a laugh, but never enough time for the cooking, laundry and cleaning, the kitchen floor would shine by the last mop of midnight.
She would answer the phone with a voice that any person would love to hear, soothing, as by an Angel, there were times even I would not recognize it.
Her children were always fed, educated and clothed, in that order, leaving herself last in all things.
Five boys, never an easy task for any woman, she would find the time to mentor “strays”. 
As she grew in years, she would still show her sons up by kicking a field goal or throwing a “double-bull’.
She could deal out punishment with one hand, and wipe a tear with the other.
Attending to so many with little time for herself, she asked for almost nothing, but perhaps, her final request, “Can we go now?”