expatgirl
Master Chef
yes, you do Barbs, I noticed the omission and forgot to address it-------Goodweed, hang in there.........I know you're full of ideas to share.....
Writing Challenge--For Anyone, Not Just Writers
- Thread starter Barbara L
- Start date
The friendliest place on the web for anyone that enjoys cooking.
If you have answers, please help by responding to the unanswered posts.
If you have answers, please help by responding to the unanswered posts.
Why wasn't it a good idea when I suggested it?Just kidding of course.
LEFSElover, yes, anyone can post words (see post #19).
Between being in the hospital and now on vacation, I haven't had a chance to do a story lately. I will write the words down on paper and work on it in the car. Then I will add it the next time I am able to get on.
Sorry to steal your idea. I must have read your post and forgot, then subconsciously assume the idea was my own.
Barbara L
Traveling Welcome Wagon
Seriously, I was teasing!!!Because I hadn't given myself time to calm down from the initial frustration and dissapointment yet. Sorry 'bout that. You can share the credit for the idea.
Seeeeeeeya; Goodweed of the North
Sheesh, I have been so agitated by a certain person the last few days (no, not James!) that I haven't had enough brain-power to put together a story idea. I will try to come up with something soon!
Barbara
LEFSElover
Executive Chef
that could be added to your story lineSeriously, I was teasing!!!
Sheesh, I have been so agitated by a certain person the last few days (no, not James!) that I haven't had enough brain-power to put together a story idea. I will try to come up with something soon!
expatgirl
Master Chef
Oh, my, your story is great!!! What imagination!!
expatgirl
Master Chef
yep, some of the best stories come from personal experiences.......had an English prof tell us that we should keep a notebook (ahem---the dog ate mine
) and write down new words that we ran across or experiences or keep personal experiences or impressions that strongly affected us--.......I sorta do the personal experiences side of it and I do love playing with words as some of you know......such great stories, y'all.........
LEFSElover
Executive Chef
My entry could have been mistaken for my mood at the time which I why I omitted it. I loved what I wrote but was concerned [don't know why though] it could be misconstrued. I love to write storys and can come up with some odd thoughts.
I like this creative thinking process we all are forced to go through while using our own minds and ideas. Good job all..........
I like this creative thinking process we all are forced to go through while using our own minds and ideas. Good job all..........
Chief Longwind Of The North
Certified/Certifiable
fraternity
grasshopper
gangster
balderdash
coconut
The lone grasshopper flitted through the sparse brush of the gravel pit, searching for a succulent blade of grass. Waves of distortion, caused by hot air rising from hot sand rose into the air, visible in every direction. In this miniature desert, Terry raised an arm to his forhead and wiped away beads of sweat.
"Whew, it's hot today!", he said to himself. He continued; "When I get back to town, I'm gonna find me a cold shower and stay there forever."
Terry had been walking since sun-up, which arrived just after five a.m. this time of year. He'd hoped to get through the pits and into the more wooded areas before noon. By nine o-clock, the sun had already warmed the air to eighty-five degrees, and the day promised to get hotter. Fortunately, the cool shade was only another fifteen minutes away.
"C'mon feet. Don't fail me now."
The day had started much like any other day. Terry Gibbons, the head of sales management at a local furniture store had pulled himself out of bed and into the shower before the sun had risen. He was a man of habit, following the same routine day after day. And there was no reaason to expect that this day would be any different. But a phone call had changed his day, indeed, had changed his life. And now, he walked through hot sand, toward a familiar forest that led to a secretive facility in the remote back-country of Upper Peninsula Michigan.
"Ow!" he exclaimed as he slapped the back of his neck. "I hate horseflies." He scratched the tender skin where the horsefly had bitten, and felt the wet sticky blood drop that welled from his neck. Terry knew it would soon scab over, and itch for a day or two. But he turned his attention once more to the task at hand and soon found himself shaded by a thick growth of maples, elms, poplars, and pine, all mixed together in an immense forest. He pulled his compass and checked his direction, for the forest canopy was thick enough to hide the sun from view.
Will continue later.
Seeeeeeya; Goodweeed of the North
grasshopper
gangster
balderdash
coconut
The lone grasshopper flitted through the sparse brush of the gravel pit, searching for a succulent blade of grass. Waves of distortion, caused by hot air rising from hot sand rose into the air, visible in every direction. In this miniature desert, Terry raised an arm to his forhead and wiped away beads of sweat.
"Whew, it's hot today!", he said to himself. He continued; "When I get back to town, I'm gonna find me a cold shower and stay there forever."
Terry had been walking since sun-up, which arrived just after five a.m. this time of year. He'd hoped to get through the pits and into the more wooded areas before noon. By nine o-clock, the sun had already warmed the air to eighty-five degrees, and the day promised to get hotter. Fortunately, the cool shade was only another fifteen minutes away.
"C'mon feet. Don't fail me now."
The day had started much like any other day. Terry Gibbons, the head of sales management at a local furniture store had pulled himself out of bed and into the shower before the sun had risen. He was a man of habit, following the same routine day after day. And there was no reaason to expect that this day would be any different. But a phone call had changed his day, indeed, had changed his life. And now, he walked through hot sand, toward a familiar forest that led to a secretive facility in the remote back-country of Upper Peninsula Michigan.
"Ow!" he exclaimed as he slapped the back of his neck. "I hate horseflies." He scratched the tender skin where the horsefly had bitten, and felt the wet sticky blood drop that welled from his neck. Terry knew it would soon scab over, and itch for a day or two. But he turned his attention once more to the task at hand and soon found himself shaded by a thick growth of maples, elms, poplars, and pine, all mixed together in an immense forest. He pulled his compass and checked his direction, for the forest canopy was thick enough to hide the sun from view.
Will continue later.
Seeeeeeya; Goodweeed of the North
LEFSElover
Executive Chef
Chief Longwind Of The North
Certified/Certifiable
Continued:
He was suprised by the darkness that surrounded him. He had rarely before experienced woods so thick that light was all but obliterated. He almost wished that he had brought a flashlight.
Terry continued on his journey, pressing through ferns, brambles, raspberry bushes, and thickets of pines stunted by the lack of sunlight. His face soon bore the scrapes and marks of slender, biting branches that frequently whipped his face as he hurtled through the forest. The mosquitoes swarmed about him incessantly, biting his unprotected hands, wrists, neck, and any other uncovered skin. When the occasional ray of light penetrated through the leafy canopy, his lot was made worse by biting deer flies. And still he pressed onward. His goal made it all worthwhile.
As the sun traveled into mid-afternoon, Terry spotted a swift, but small stream that burbled though its tiny riverbed. The water looked crisp and fresh.
“Man, I’m thirsty! Why didn’t I bring my canteen.” Terry quietly chided himself for his lack of forethought. He knew better than to drink the water from the stream. Who knew how many animals had dropped their excretion into the water as they drank its cold wetness. And Terry new what e-coli was, not to mention the microscopic parasites that were a part of every stream. Instead, he lay down in the chill water and let it wash his scrathces and cool his body. After a few short minutes, the water had done its job and began to cause his nerves to protest from the cold. He stood and left the water, following it downstream toward his destination. Another hour found him at the edge of a large pond. He estimated its depth at five feet and its width at eighty yards. At the far end of the pond, the water cascaded accross a well contructed beaver dam, then continued Northward toward the big lake, Superior. Terry felt as if he were part a a fraternity, a brotherhood of forest creatures. He continued forward.
Terry called out; “Bill, Cathy, you here?”
He listened intently for a reply, but was greeted instead by the whoop of a nearby crane. The big bird was followed by its brood, all dipping their beaks into the shallow water where it met the high-ground. Again Terry cried; “Bill, Cathy, Where are you guys?”
Again he listened for the sound of a human voice, and again he heard only the sounds of the birds, frogs, and crickets. He turned Eastward and followed the dam edge until he reached the dam itself. He turned right and walked forward, pushing aside more thick brush that fought him for every step. HE sank to his knees in muck, taking great care to extract himself with shoes intact and still attached to his feet. By and by he reached the end of his journey. Before him sat a small cabin, constructed of logs and timbers, with a tin roof. Smoke issued from the lone chimney, climbing into a cloudless sky.
Terry walked up to the cabin door and knocked, calling; “Hey, you old gangster. You in there?”
The door opened and he found himself greeted by his best freind. Bill and Terry had known each other, it seemed, since birth. They were more like brothers than freinds.
“Hi Bill. Did I hear you right this morning?”
“Terry, glad you could make it. And yep, they’re in the stream, and I gotta say, they’re bigger than I’ve ever seen them.”
“Where’s my pole?”
“Cathy’s got it, down on the stream. She’s breaking it in for you.”
“She’d just better not break it. I haven’t even gotten a chance to wet a line with it yet.”
“Ah. Don’t worry about that. She’s just down there plaing with some chubs. She’s not gonna break your pole. Instead, you better take care of that coconut on your shoulders. I’ve got a hat or two inside. I’ll get you one, to keep the deerflies off of your head.”
“Uh, Bill.”
“Yeh, what?”
“Are ya ready? Got your pole all set up?”
“Oh, I have three beauties already cleaned and frozen. I’m done for the day. But you’re welcome to go down there by yourself. Just keep your eyes open. There’s been a few blackies reported around here.”
“That’s balderdash and you know it. Yeh, every year I hear about those bears. But in twenty years of fishing, I’ve yet to see one.”
“Well, today just might be your lucky day. Wanna borrow my pistol. Just in case?”
“No, you keep it. I could use some night-crawlers though.”
Bill entered the cabin and soon returned with a belt-box of cold, lively night crawlers. He handed them ot Terry and said; “Good luck, Terry. Bring me back a trophy rainbow.”
“I thought you said the salmon were in.”
“I did, and they are. But I’m hungry for rainbow. So go catch me one.”
“Go get your own. I’m here for one fish only. I’m here for the king.”
“Well, good luck to you then. Now git before it gets dark. And tell my wife to come back to camp.”
“Will do partner.”
Terry grinned broadly as he walked toward the nearby stream.
“Hey Cathy.”, he called. “Where’s my pole?”
The end.
Goodweed of the North
He was suprised by the darkness that surrounded him. He had rarely before experienced woods so thick that light was all but obliterated. He almost wished that he had brought a flashlight.
Terry continued on his journey, pressing through ferns, brambles, raspberry bushes, and thickets of pines stunted by the lack of sunlight. His face soon bore the scrapes and marks of slender, biting branches that frequently whipped his face as he hurtled through the forest. The mosquitoes swarmed about him incessantly, biting his unprotected hands, wrists, neck, and any other uncovered skin. When the occasional ray of light penetrated through the leafy canopy, his lot was made worse by biting deer flies. And still he pressed onward. His goal made it all worthwhile.
As the sun traveled into mid-afternoon, Terry spotted a swift, but small stream that burbled though its tiny riverbed. The water looked crisp and fresh.
“Man, I’m thirsty! Why didn’t I bring my canteen.” Terry quietly chided himself for his lack of forethought. He knew better than to drink the water from the stream. Who knew how many animals had dropped their excretion into the water as they drank its cold wetness. And Terry new what e-coli was, not to mention the microscopic parasites that were a part of every stream. Instead, he lay down in the chill water and let it wash his scrathces and cool his body. After a few short minutes, the water had done its job and began to cause his nerves to protest from the cold. He stood and left the water, following it downstream toward his destination. Another hour found him at the edge of a large pond. He estimated its depth at five feet and its width at eighty yards. At the far end of the pond, the water cascaded accross a well contructed beaver dam, then continued Northward toward the big lake, Superior. Terry felt as if he were part a a fraternity, a brotherhood of forest creatures. He continued forward.
Terry called out; “Bill, Cathy, you here?”
He listened intently for a reply, but was greeted instead by the whoop of a nearby crane. The big bird was followed by its brood, all dipping their beaks into the shallow water where it met the high-ground. Again Terry cried; “Bill, Cathy, Where are you guys?”
Again he listened for the sound of a human voice, and again he heard only the sounds of the birds, frogs, and crickets. He turned Eastward and followed the dam edge until he reached the dam itself. He turned right and walked forward, pushing aside more thick brush that fought him for every step. HE sank to his knees in muck, taking great care to extract himself with shoes intact and still attached to his feet. By and by he reached the end of his journey. Before him sat a small cabin, constructed of logs and timbers, with a tin roof. Smoke issued from the lone chimney, climbing into a cloudless sky.
Terry walked up to the cabin door and knocked, calling; “Hey, you old gangster. You in there?”
The door opened and he found himself greeted by his best freind. Bill and Terry had known each other, it seemed, since birth. They were more like brothers than freinds.
“Hi Bill. Did I hear you right this morning?”
“Terry, glad you could make it. And yep, they’re in the stream, and I gotta say, they’re bigger than I’ve ever seen them.”
“Where’s my pole?”
“Cathy’s got it, down on the stream. She’s breaking it in for you.”
“She’d just better not break it. I haven’t even gotten a chance to wet a line with it yet.”
“Ah. Don’t worry about that. She’s just down there plaing with some chubs. She’s not gonna break your pole. Instead, you better take care of that coconut on your shoulders. I’ve got a hat or two inside. I’ll get you one, to keep the deerflies off of your head.”
“Uh, Bill.”
“Yeh, what?”
“Are ya ready? Got your pole all set up?”
“Oh, I have three beauties already cleaned and frozen. I’m done for the day. But you’re welcome to go down there by yourself. Just keep your eyes open. There’s been a few blackies reported around here.”
“That’s balderdash and you know it. Yeh, every year I hear about those bears. But in twenty years of fishing, I’ve yet to see one.”
“Well, today just might be your lucky day. Wanna borrow my pistol. Just in case?”
“No, you keep it. I could use some night-crawlers though.”
Bill entered the cabin and soon returned with a belt-box of cold, lively night crawlers. He handed them ot Terry and said; “Good luck, Terry. Bring me back a trophy rainbow.”
“I thought you said the salmon were in.”
“I did, and they are. But I’m hungry for rainbow. So go catch me one.”
“Go get your own. I’m here for one fish only. I’m here for the king.”
“Well, good luck to you then. Now git before it gets dark. And tell my wife to come back to camp.”
“Will do partner.”
Terry grinned broadly as he walked toward the nearby stream.
“Hey Cathy.”, he called. “Where’s my pole?”
The end.
Goodweed of the North
Barbara L
Traveling Welcome Wagon
Okay, I was tired as I wrote this, and it is obviously a vent session. lol I used the last words I saw posted, which were luvs'.
Once upon a time, but not so very long ago, there was a handsome king and his decent looking queen. The king had been all aflutter, pacing the castle halls, anticipating the arrival of his daughter. The queen had felt apprehensive, remembering her stepdaughter’s last visit. Unfortunately, her apprehension was warranted, and the visit was not going well.
The king’s daughter complained incessantly about everything. Her father lavished her with gifts, but rather than show appreciation for them, she sneered and complained that they were not good enough. She spoke to her father the king with much disrespect, and she cursed at her stepmother the queen and said rude things to her constantly.
Watching her evil stepdaughter, as the princess picked through all the hors d’eorves on the table, the queen thoughtfully applied cherry-flavored Chapstick to her lips and began to formulate a plan.
The printer in the queen’s office was not working, so she grabbed a pencil and a pad of paper and started writing some notes. Then the queen realized that she was making the whole matter much more complicated than it needed to be. With that, she grabbed a couple rolls of extra-wide duct tape and headed for her stepdaughter’s room. Before the princess had a chance to wake from her mid-day nap, the queen quickly wrapped the sheet from the bed around her, with the help of two of her loyal and trusted aides. The queen began to wrap the princess with duct tape, winding it around and around, beginning with her mouth, since she had started complaining again, and working her way down. She then had her aides toss the princess into the back of a hay-wagon. The queen took over at this point, driving for half a day to a large swamp. She easily rolled her duct taped mummy of a stepdaughter out of the wagon, into the swamp. She drove away whistling a happy tune, looking forward to the happily-ever-after that had eluded the castle over the last few days.
Barbara
Once upon a time, but not so very long ago, there was a handsome king and his decent looking queen. The king had been all aflutter, pacing the castle halls, anticipating the arrival of his daughter. The queen had felt apprehensive, remembering her stepdaughter’s last visit. Unfortunately, her apprehension was warranted, and the visit was not going well.
The king’s daughter complained incessantly about everything. Her father lavished her with gifts, but rather than show appreciation for them, she sneered and complained that they were not good enough. She spoke to her father the king with much disrespect, and she cursed at her stepmother the queen and said rude things to her constantly.
Watching her evil stepdaughter, as the princess picked through all the hors d’eorves on the table, the queen thoughtfully applied cherry-flavored Chapstick to her lips and began to formulate a plan.
The printer in the queen’s office was not working, so she grabbed a pencil and a pad of paper and started writing some notes. Then the queen realized that she was making the whole matter much more complicated than it needed to be. With that, she grabbed a couple rolls of extra-wide duct tape and headed for her stepdaughter’s room. Before the princess had a chance to wake from her mid-day nap, the queen quickly wrapped the sheet from the bed around her, with the help of two of her loyal and trusted aides. The queen began to wrap the princess with duct tape, winding it around and around, beginning with her mouth, since she had started complaining again, and working her way down. She then had her aides toss the princess into the back of a hay-wagon. The queen took over at this point, driving for half a day to a large swamp. She easily rolled her duct taped mummy of a stepdaughter out of the wagon, into the swamp. She drove away whistling a happy tune, looking forward to the happily-ever-after that had eluded the castle over the last few days.
Barbara
expatgirl
Master Chef
oh, my, there are times when all mothers and or teachers would love to do what Barb -oooops the queen did with the taping act and throw them into the swamp that they spawned from....I imagine that the princess in the story is a teen.....if so.... that's the way they act even to their own mothers....I won't tell you what my little Prince used to call his Princess of a sister during the ages of 13-16...she was not a very pleasant person to be around some of the time......good story, Queen, oops I mean Barbara!!!
Chief Longwind Of The North
Certified/Certifiable
Hey! Where'd all the story-tellers go? Here's some more words. Anyone want to try their hand at some poetry?
Goofy
Weasle
Race
Utopia
Bouliabase
Goofy
Weasle
Race
Utopia
Bouliabase
Barbara L
Traveling Welcome Wagon
Maybe not the kind of poetry you were thinking of, but here's mine:
A goofy young weasel named Ace
Was preparing a rich bouillabaisse.
"If Utopia were home," Ace said,
"I'd eat lounging in my bed,
"Instead of running in this rat race!"
Barbara
A goofy young weasel named Ace
Was preparing a rich bouillabaisse.
"If Utopia were home," Ace said,
"I'd eat lounging in my bed,
"Instead of running in this rat race!"
Barbara
LEFSElover
Executive Chef
how many goofy ways can a weasle run across a blade of grass
well I'm not sure said the bouliabase maker to the lass
what kind of a race would anyone want to put together
especially in a place that is far away and grows heather
a man who was hoping to reach a kind of utopia he said
as a put his tired head on the pillow and fell into bed
well I'm not sure said the bouliabase maker to the lass
what kind of a race would anyone want to put together
especially in a place that is far away and grows heather
a man who was hoping to reach a kind of utopia he said
as a put his tired head on the pillow and fell into bed
Chief Longwind Of The North
Certified/Certifiable
Limericks are good. I'm impressed.
Seeeeeeya; Goodweed of the North
Seeeeeeya; Goodweed of the North
Chief Longwind Of The North
Certified/Certifiable
Lefe's; both of the poems show great imagination, and are so very cute. I'm impressed with both of them. Hmmmm, guess I should give it a stab. Let's see....
Goofy
Weasle
Race
Utopia
Bouliabase
This is more of a silly lyric than a true poem, but hey, I just want to go fishing.
There was this goofy weasle
who ran a goofy race
it seemed there was a contest
for making bouliabase
The winner of the contest,
you see, would win a prize
seven hundred squid
baked in seven hundred pies
Who caught those many squid, you ask,
Why the captain and the crew
of the Utopia- based fishing boat
while singing, "The Yellow Tuna Blues".
There. Now is that reaching or what? C'mon BT. Let's see you apply some of your magic wit to this little exercise. And RonJohn, jump right in, and Mods, we're waiting to hear from you too, Michael, GB, everyone...
Seeeeeeya; Goodweed of the North
Goofy
Weasle
Race
Utopia
Bouliabase
This is more of a silly lyric than a true poem, but hey, I just want to go fishing.
There was this goofy weasle
who ran a goofy race
it seemed there was a contest
for making bouliabase
The winner of the contest,
you see, would win a prize
seven hundred squid
baked in seven hundred pies
Who caught those many squid, you ask,
Why the captain and the crew
of the Utopia- based fishing boat
while singing, "The Yellow Tuna Blues".
There. Now is that reaching or what?
C'mon BT. Let's see you apply some of your magic wit to this little exercise. And RonJohn, jump right in, and Mods, we're waiting to hear from you too, Michael, GB, everyone...Seeeeeeya; Goodweed of the North
Barbara L
Traveling Welcome Wagon
What am I, chopped liver?...and Mods, we're waiting to hear from you too, Michael, GB, everyone...
Seeeeeeya; Goodweed of the North
Just kidding of course!I enjoyed your lyric poem!
Barbara
LEFSElover
Executive Chef
post some new words please....
like you GWOTN, I love writing stories but am not sure they're received well due to folks who don't have time to actually read them. I liked the idea of poems, they're short, sweet and imaginative too.
very nice, liked reading them...
like you GWOTN, I love writing stories but am not sure they're received well due to folks who don't have time to actually read them. I liked the idea of poems, they're short, sweet and imaginative too.
very nice, liked reading them...
blissful
Master Chef
- Joined
- Mar 25, 2008
- Messages
- 6,372
I like the poems too but I like the stories best. I'm reading all of them!
