BEWARE!

Temper Tantrum

A frown creases Mother Nature’s face.

Features darken and clouds start to race.

Puke green skies spew dime-sized hail.

Lightning slashes the ozone with a scratch of her fingernail.

Thunder rumbles from the kicking of her feet.

Rain flattens the grass like a wet, cotton sheet.

Soft breezes harden into mighty winds that blow.

The Lady’s fixing to put-on one hell of a show.

The Doppler sings out, tornadoes are near.

People, like ants, scurry underground out of caution and fear.

An eerie silence hangs heavy in the electric-charged air.

Curses are thrown.  But is that really fair?

Man rips her crust and slaughters her trees.

Birds lose their homes and are forced to flee.

Gooey, black oil poisons her water,

Smothering the fish, the duck, and the otter.

Her anger and sorrow are justified.

For a Mother must grieve for the children that died.

How much more must she endure

Before Man wakes up and initiates a cure?

It was only a temper tantrum she threw today.

But beware; tomorrow there could be hell to pay.

Time is Realitive



"Down the hall and to the right."



As I sat in my little cube at work this week, I couldn’t help but think about time. 

The old saying, “time flies when you’re having fun,” is an absolute truth.  Eight hours at work drag.  The same eight hours spent at a writing conference, whizzes by like a freight train.

Last Thursday, Friday, and Saturday (May 5-6) I attended the Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc., aka OWFI, annual writing conference in Oklahoma City.  It was the first year I attended as previous years the date fell on the end of the month and I couldn’t go because of work.  (The only excuse for missing the end of the month at my job is death, and even then a death certificate would probably be asked for.)

I was the chairperson in charge of registration this year which sounded scary as over 400 people usually attend the conference, but as usual, I worried about nothing.  It was a blast!  Every one was friendly, joyful, and polite.  I had excellent help at the front desk and we got people in and out slick as greased owl shi . . . uh . . . well you know.  

Time flew. 



New author:  Ruth Burkett Weeks



All week I lived in the past:  “This time last Friday night I was at a banquet watching my name and picture flash on the big screen for new, published authors. 



Last Saturday afternoon, I was at an autograph party signing copies of my book.

This time last Saturday I was at an awards banquet, eating steak, drinking rum, and accepting awards. 



Eat, Drink, and be Merry!



 “This time last week” was my mantra all week long.



Soldiers From the Mist by Ruth Burkett Weeks





Gurus say it isn’t healthy living in the past; we should live in the moment instead.  Yeah, maybe, but sometimes the past is the only thing that makes the present bearable.

First Place, First Honorable Mention, Second Honorable Mention



Arkansas Ridge Writers Rule