Ghost stories

Well known writer of ghost stories is signing his new book in a new book nook. He is interested about writing a new book about ghosts in our county. Please, let know all ghosts to show up and tell their stories. They shall receive a free signed copy of the author's latest book. The book, when finished, will be delivered to their favorite show sites. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 11/31/2011

Telepathy

as a source of communication. I am working on it. "Why don't you use a phone?" I don't have a phone, not at least a land line, so I can't call overseas. Cell phone, yes, it's working. I am making date at Caffee. We are surrounded by a circle of a friendly people openly listening to our conversation. They are mostly old geezers. We give them a cold shoulder and proudly walk away. They even didn't pay for free entertainment. You can send an e-mail. It's between a blogging and then a conversation, it contains a very general talk. Nothing private, please. Talking on the street almost always in presence of some friendly ears. I am trying telepathy. It's faulty. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

Strange people

I am meeting all kind of strange people. They look strange at me. They look weird. They also smell strange, like sulphur, like hell, and they stare and stare. They tell strange things, they speak funny, they talk peculiar, and strangly stare. They are eccentrics. There are also other people and they wander about all these strange people. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2009

Deer

I was visiting Pittsburgh, western Pennsylvania city heavily populated by people - and deer. I was washing dishes in the kitchen and my daughter-in-law was upstairs in their bedroom making the bed. Suddenly I hear her screaming: "They are my apples, don't eat my apples. Go away." I looked out of the window and there was the deer on its hind legs, like a goat, eating the apples from the tree. It listened and walked away. Copyright (c) 2007 Stephenville, Tx

Forbidden fruit

I tasted forbidden fruit from your garden. It tasted so good. Just little bite here and there, but I asked for more. Soon I wanted all off it. It can not be done. I walked away with my long nose dragging behind. I look back thirty years later. What was it? Craziness, insanity, lunacy, or all above? I licked my wounds clean. They healed. I wouldn't want you even if you would be free. I actually don't know. I don't want to play with that possibility. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

Divorce

They were divorcing. I do not remember them shouting at each other. I remember she was showing me blue marks on her arms. She moved out with their two children into a small apartment in one town. In the search for better job and better apartment they moved to another town. Children went to school, she worked and kept apartment clean. It looked like everything will calm down eventually. One afternoon she went to pick up her children at school and was told their father came earlier and already picked them up. He took them to his parents. She made a frantic attempt to get them back, but his parents home was a fortress. She was seeking for help, came home to her mother. Her mother was a widow, had younger children to take care of and she was a foreigner in the country. Why did he do it? Did he take children like hostages to win her back, or was it revenge? Revenge for what? I remember her being skinny, chain smoking, and taking long walks in the woods. At the court she was told if she will remarry and have a home for the children, she might get them back. "He took, what was dearest to me." She didn't have visitation rights and trips were costly. Her ex-husband came one time with their children. "He was holding their hands so hard, they turned white." She remarried rather hastily, but never got over lost of her two children. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

Why I didn't become a whore

When I was about Sandy's age, six or seven, I was with our mother in the kitchen. A Mother was cooking something on the stove. The pots were bubbling and the food smelled good. In one moment the Mother picked up a lid with her left hand wrapped in a dish cloth. She had a spoon in her right hand. She dipped the spoon into soup, fished out a potato, blew it, but it was too hot, she dropped the potato on the lid, so she could taste it after it cooled off a little bit. Potato was cooked and supper was ready. Next time, when the Mother was cooking, I imitated her each movement. I pulled a footstool close to the stove, stood on it, so I could reach a top of the big pot. I fished out a piece of potato on the lid and began to blow. "What are you doing?" asked our mother. "Tasting the potato the same way as you did." "You mustn't do it! If you will eat out of the lid, you will become a whore." "You have eaten from the lid. You also will become the whore." "I can not be the whore. I am too old for that." "Don't worry, mom, I also will not become the whore." Mother gave me half loving and half amusing look. This is why I didn't become the whore. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

Holiday blues

Big expectations, favorite cookies are burning in the oven. The cat pulled a fish off the counter and a dog ate whole chicken carcass with a half meat still on it. Nobody calls from overseas. I guess, it's up to me to make a phone call. Nobody is home. Little presents under the tree, while you expected a cadillac. "I gave you a coffeemaker. I know you like your coffee." Coffeemaker is big. How long did she save money for it? It's a tea spoon every morning and a full spoon of a therapy for your holiday spleen. It's Spring. Stop and watch a bumblbee trying to get into yellow daffodil in the wind.

The cat and fire truck

The cat lives on the very top of the tower. On the same street is a fire station. Every time, when a siren goes off, the cat runs to the window, jumps on the window sill and watches fire truck rushing on the street.\br We wanted to offer him as a mascot, but the cat is afraid of everything. He would look good in a little fire helmet. There was fire truck's parade another day. Since that day the cat doesn't watch fire trucks anymore. Too many fire trucks to catch, I guess. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

GROW

I don't mind to go against the flow. It is a part of grow. Well, sometimes it's rather a bumpy road, when I shuffle against the traffic. Sometimes I go backwards, sideways, instead with the flow. At least I am a part of GROW. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

A cloister

Yesterday I had a dream. There was one cloister on the top of a very high rock. Nuns with a good Mother superior lived there. They were growing white, sweet smelling roses. God liked to stop in this cloister to admire a view on the deep valley with the river, to smell sweet fragrance of white roses and loved to chat, or just to sit still with good and wise Mother superior. The roses bloomed and smelled like nowhere else. He enjoyed to rest here. One day The Mother superior approached God: "We are so happy you stop to visit us, we would like you to feel at home here. So we were thinking if you will not mind we would like to make nice, embroidered slippers for you, so you could rest your feet." God agreed. "If you allow us, before we can start to work on your slippers, we would like to measure your feet, so we will get the size right." After the Mother superior finished her request one enormous foot showed up. It was much bigger then whole abbey. The Mother superior bowed her head and with a little smile said: "I am afraid we can not get enough of material for your slippers and we will be not able to make slippers for your feet." God with a little chuckle replied: "Thank you for a thought." It was a wonderful dream. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 2010

Fruit

Apples, oranges, pears and plums, all together on the stand. Strawberries, blackberries, blueberries and other berries made into the jam. Others are called preserves. Kiwis, pomegrates, bananas and pineapples as exotic fruit traveled far to visit our land. Not only grapes are made into wine. Wine can be made even from dandelions. Fruit is on the top of food pyramid and we can live only on fruit as well. I would not like to do without meat. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 11/15/2012

Bark

Bark on the tree Smooth grey surface with dark stripes like zebra. Grey, green and yellow with many deep wrinkles of an old man. There is a stump unevenly cut when they took a young tree down. Why? Naked branches are reaching to the wintry sky. Trees are sleeping, saving a sap inside for the Spring to come. Canadian geese are feasting on the green grass. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 11/27/2012 POW! assignment

After the door shuts and the footsteps die she smiles, pulls out a sandwich and a bottle of coke from a trunk and begins to eat. After the door shuts and the foot steps die she stretches comfortably in the chair and puts her feet on the top of the trunk. She eats and rests. It was one busy day. After the door shuts and the footsteps die she finished her supper, reaches into the trunk and takes out a big faded notebook - - a woman’s diary. She begins to read. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 12/3/2012 POW! assignment

Snow

Snow cones, snow flakes, and snow balls. Snow shoes, snowed burrows and snowed roads. The school is closed. Snowy mountains sparkle in the Sun like diamonds. Ice on the ponds, icy patches on the road. Icicles hang down from the porch. Sparrows are leaving footprints in the snow. Big snowman by the house with two spruce trees is wearing hat, scarf and buttons. This was yesterday. Today snow is gone. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 12/3/2012