Tuesday, 7/7/15

This is from a Quickwrite of just observing.  I took the experience of today’s tour of the Wild Horses of Corolla, NC.  Mine is not a typical point of view most of my fellow students are probably writing.

horses

“Big human container. They all get out. Of course they do! All me and my girls wanted to do this morning was to cool off in the wet sand and surf.

Click. Click. Click. Yeah. I see you there, buddy. Step back a bit. You can move to the other side because I’m not moving. The breeze on the beach feels too good right here.

Ugh…Sand flies. Where is one of those annoying egret birds when you need one to take care of these critters on me? Yeah: Click. Click. Click. I see you, too, lady. Do you see my ears? I’m not happy.

This is MY walking space and that’s-

There you go. You go it! But I’m not happy you made me flinch.

Yes, yes, I know I’m a pretty boy. I have a handsome mane. Click. Click. Cl- Just get back in your car, please.”

copyright Trevor L Moon 2015

Monday, 7/6/15

This is suppose to sound like a poem, and it is the basic ideas of a story/novel I am wanting to write.  What I came up with sounds more like a beginning, maybe…  Yes, it does sound dark.  Jo Knowles responded:  “Yikes!  This is so intriguing.”  I love how positive & responsive these authors are!  It’s awesome!  I do also feel that, just as I see with my students, if we just relax and put pen to paper it’s amazing what we can create!  I’m not sure where some ideas are born, but I want to find out more.  This is a troubled teen about whom I want to learn more.  
(Okay, I’ve procrastinated enough.  Here you go.  Comments/Questions welcome.)

I was five
When I saw that first
Dead body.
But it wasn’t out of my mother’s hate.
It was due to love.
The roads were filled with abandoned
Trash
Previously living.
My mother had too huge a heart
For creatures to go unclaimed,
Yet I would wait after lacrosse practice
For an extra hour for her arrival.
Our backyard was not
A playground.
It was my mother’s sanctuary,
Built with buried animal corpses.
My swing set sold at a shelter fundraiser
Long ago
As an eight-foot fence protected our land
From evil only my mother feared.

My father got out when I was seven,
But I had three more years.

copyright Trevor L Moon 2015