A Sonnet for my Father

     

Genre: Poetry

Heat Level: Poetic

Blurb

Poetry; a unique and beautiful way to express feelings and ideas. Weaving words into perfect poetic prose, these authors remind you of your childhood, bring comfort from the hardships of life, fiercely spur emotions, and tell tales of old. All lovers of poetry will find a favorite here!

Featuring poetry by the following authors: John Grey, Kellee Kranendonk, J.E. Feldman, Debbie Hadow, Nina Padolf, Dibyasree Nandy, Brianna Witte, Nnadi Samuel, Rhiannon Bird, Sunayna Pal, Christopher R. Muscato, Vanessa Bane, Edward Cody Huddleston, Prathyush Devadas, Ed Ahern, and Cara Hartley.

Snippet

A Sonnet for my Father

Easter was a holiday you treasured,

I think dinner was your favorite part.

There was magic that remains unmeasured,

Muted even before you did depart.

Sometimes things we tend to take for granted

Are what we miss when they have gone away.

Hopefulness by longing supplanted

Sorrow fills emptiness upon this day.

In all my time I never will forget

The lessons you tried to impart to me.

I try not to live life filled with regret.

Sometimes tears are the only thing I see.

Thirteen years have passed since you flew away.

My heart is full of things I did not say.

For my father

May 31, 1936 – November 28, 2010

Buy Link

http://books2read.com/SoulInk1

The e-book is currently available for pre-order. It will be released on June 23, 2023.

Pre-Order Price $1.99

Notes

Look, y'all, I try not to do it, but this post is being linked in multiple blog hops. I just got through doing a major rewrite of a story to be included in the forthcoming Hot and Sticky anthology from Passionate Ink. Since my past submissions to anthologies have either been met with a "you're in" or a "no thanks," this experience was a little unsettling. I was told the story had good bones but lacked emotion. That's not what anyone wants to hear, is it?

I realized that my over-the-top reaction was connected more to experiences in my past than it was to my present circumstances. When I finished the rewrite, I felt like I had a better story. I don't really have time to create separate posts for multiple blog hops and this post works with three of them, so, here we are.

Ornery Owl is Outstanding in her Field

Free use image by Pexels on Pixabay

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2023/05/join-us-for-charity-saturday-28-may.html

For every comment on this post, I will donate a dollar to the Lutheran medical center foundation in honor of my father. He died on November 28, 2010, in what was then Collier Hospice. It was still connected to the Lutheran medical center at the time. They just recently changed the name to Lutheran Hospice.

May 31 of this year would have been my father's 87th birthday.

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Charity Sunday: Save the Colorado River #CharitySunday #8Sunday #SnipSun

 

Image by Brigitte Werner from Pixabay

Howdy Solks, I mean Folks! Today's featured charity is the Save the Colorado River project.

https://savethecolorado.org/about/mission/

More about the charity in a minute. I wrote a poem specifically for this post and I am going to share it with you now.

The smell of death surrounds us as the rivers run dry

Life lost as fish lie stranded in the mud

Corporations don’t miss a beat when told

There’s a chance to build another factory in the wild silence

This year their profits could be twice what they made in the last

It’s impossible to imagine that people once revered the enchanted stars

I utilized four prompts in the creation of this poem. I will provide the links to those at the end of the post.

Now, about the Save the Colorado River project. Per their mission statement:

Save The Colorado’s mission is to protect and restore the Colorado River and its tributaries from the source to the sea. Save The Colorado focuses on fighting irresponsible water projects, supporting alternatives to proposed dams and diversions, fighting and adapting to climate change, supporting river and fish species restoration, and removing deadbeat dams.

They have a subproject which is close to my heart. I lived and worked in the Boulder area for close to 20 years.

https://savethecolorado.org/campaigns/boulder-creek-program/

Per the website:

Save The Colorado has an active program around protecting and restoring the Boulder Creek watershed in Boulder County, Colorado.  We have identified and committed to these efforts to preserve and protect the watershed.

I will donate a dollar to the Save the Colorado River project for every comment received on this post.

Following the post, you will find the necessary hoppy links. This is a Charity Sunday post, so that hop is at the top. Then, of course, I wish to share the links to the prompts that inspired the poem. Following that will be links to other hops I'm sharing the post with. 

I know some of you create separate posts for every hop, but I become overwhelmed when I try to do that. I have too many projects going on and my brain already operates like someone put it in a blender and pressed the Liquefy setting.

Here's some music to enjoy while you go hopping down the bloggy trail.

Here's the link in case you can't see the player, Player!

https://odysee.com/@jazz:89/Duke.Ellington_Sophisticated.Ellington_1981.Comp:9?r=GTwnGJ4fFBQfzuJgpHVpfKBKaC9b8B16

Here are the Hop Links. Visit 'em to find more great charities and stuff to read.

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/

https://dversepoets.com/2022/08/23/a-world-of-common-scents/

https://earthweal.com/2022/08/22/earthweal-weekly-challenge-river-gone/

https://girlieontheedge1.wordpress.com/2022/08/21/sundays-six-sentence-story-word-prompt-226/

Prompt word: Beat

https://www.facebook.com/groups/401643826588474

https://wewriwa.blogspot.com

https://myjustsostory.blogspot.com/2022/08/words-for-wednesday-2482022.html

Charity Sunday: Adams County Animal Shelter

 

http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com

For this Charity Sunday, I am going to send items to the Adams County Animal Shelter for their Smitten for Kittens drive. 

https://animalshelter.adcogov.org/smitten-kittens-donation-shower

The shelter is not currently set up to take monetary donations, so I will purchase items through Amazon. Thus, if I receive 5 comments I will send at least $5 worth of items. I hope that makes sense.

Here is the shelter's Amazon wish list.

https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/3V00TS9TWBFL1/ref=hz_ls_biz_ex

This donation is being made in honor of Lafayette, one of the best friends I've ever had in this crappy and stupid world.

The above image is the property of Cara Hartley/Ornery Owl/Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld. You are welcome to use the image respectfully as long as you credit one of the above. 

I shouldn't have to say this, but because the world is filled with shitty assholes, I am going to tell you all that I have no patience for the kind of person who, upon seeing this photo, says something nasty about my body or sanctimoniously declares that they don't like tattoos. I really don't give a fuck what you think about my body or whether you like tattoos. If you can't say something nice, fuck off elsewhere. Like into the sun, for example. The need to be hateful or behave in a holier-than-thou fashion says worse things about you than it does about me.

I adopted Lafayette and Tara from the Adams County Animal Shelter in March 2010. They had both been in their kennels at the shelter for most of their lives. Tara was six months old. Lafayette was 8 months old and absolutely wild. He kept tapping at me. He was completely agoraphobic when I first brought him home and hid under the printer table until nighttime. When I went to sleep, he came out and shredded my arm. It wasn't out of malice. He wanted to play. I had the vet trim his claws, and he learned how to play with soft paws quickly.

Those of you who have been with me a while may recall Tara from her post-surgery pictures when she had a benign tumor removed from her forehead. She looked like a juvenile Skeksis. 

https://www.naughtynetherworldpress.com/2021/05/charity-sunday-help-with-taras-medical.html

Tara is doing well overall. Following the chemotherapy treatments, the fur that was shaved off to do ultrasounds of her abdomen grew back a lighter color. 

Tara and Lafayette were either half-siblings or cousins. They were from the same feral colony. They shared the condition of feline stomatitis, which required the removal of most of their teeth. Both of them were quite inbred and had multiple health problems. Lafayette had multiple system failure and had to be put to sleep on his sixth birthday, 17 July 2015. My heart broke into a million pieces on that day and has never mended.

I originally posted the following poem on this blog on 12 November 2020. It honors Lafayette and Trinity, who didn't get along very well. They were jealous of each other. However, they both got along with the brothers Leon and Raymond (both gone now as well) who served as a buffer between them. 

Trinity died on 4 November 2016 from brain and lung cancer. As that was the same day that Donald tRump was elected, it is quite simply one of the shittiest days in history.

The poem also appears in my third poetry volume, December Mood. If you are smart enough to subscribe to my epic newsletter today, you will eventually receive a link to a free ARC of this epic collection. (Honestly, I'm still working on getting the new and better Naughty Netherworld News set up.)

https://bit.ly/NaughtyNetherworldNews2

If there is some crazy reason that you don't want to receive a thrilling gift in your inbox every month, you can purchase the poetry volume from Amazon or borrow it via Kindle Unlimited.

https://amzn.to/3JVAKWv

Every day I think of you

I remember what good friends you were to me

If you were the color of your spirit set free

I’m wondering what you would be

Lafayette, would this be you?

Did you become something like this when you rose away?

I thought that there would be more time to say

How much I love you every day

 Trinity, my colorful girl

With your beautiful, expressive eyes

Would I recognize your new disguise?

If only I could be that wise

I walk through the darkness of my dreams

With eyes closed fast, not wanting to see

The hopelessness surrounding me

Knowing what I wish can never be

~cie~

Acknowledgments

Picture 1: A Haiga created by me. Please credit Cara Hartley/The Real Cie

Picture 2: Beautiful You Are by Magic Love Crow

 https://magiclovecrow.blogspot.com/

Picture 3: Delightful Donkey by Gina Morley

https://daydreambeliever-gina.blogspot.com/

Picture 4: Carnival Dreams by Shelle Kennedy

http://sunshineshelles.blogspot.com/

This post was created using these prompts:

 November PAD Chapbook Challenge prompt for 11 November 2020 (write a color poem.)

https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2020-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-11

Poets and Storytellers United Weekly Scribblings #45

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/11/weekly-scribblings-45-artistic.html

This poem was posted to these places:

http://poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com

https://lbry.tv/@poetryofthenetherworld:9

 

The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)

Creative Commons License

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This work is the intellectual property of Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld.

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Snippet: A Hard Rain #8Sunday #CharitySunday #SnipSun #MFRWHooks

https://grist.org/climate-energy/deadly-1000-year-floods-strike-colorado/

The following is a snippet from my recent WEP Challenge project. I have not published it anywhere but on this site. However, it is doomed to eventual inclusion in one of my unspeakable volumes of poetry and prose.

Genre: Nonfiction, Personal Essay

I have lived in dry climates all my life. Where most people use rain as a euphemism for gloom, to me rain always represented hope. I was always happy-ish when it rained.

It was hot during the first part of September 2013. To quote the Boulder Daily Camera, “the talk on the street the first full weekend of September was about the heat. Boulder tied a record for the date with 93 degrees that Sunday.”

I was living in a mobile home park in Lafayette, Colorado, and working the night shift as a resident assistant in a retirement community with independent apartments, an assisted living center, and a long-term care center. I liked working the night shift. If things were quiet, following my rounds through the halls of the apartments, I had ample time to complete my clerical tasks and then work on my own projects. Or play games.

Follow the link if you'd like to read the remainder of the 1000-word essay.

https://poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com/2022/04/a-hard-rain-in-boulder-colorado-wep.html

In honor of completing this year's Camp NaNoWriMo project, I will donate a dollar for every comment received on this post to NaNoWriMo.

https://store.nanowrimo.org/collections/donate

In my Make It Happen Thursday post, I contrasted my love for Camp NaNoWriMo with my loathing for regular NaNoWriMo.

https://poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com/2022/04/april-pad-challengenapowrimo-2022-day_21.html

Here are the highlights from that fevered foray into madness.

Camp NaNoWriMo and regular NaNoWriMo are like two sides of the same coin. The Camp NaNoWriMo side is shiny, pleasant, and encouraging. It plays uplifting music whenever it comes up in a toss while beautiful birds fly through the air carrying a brightly colored banner proclaiming YOU CAN DO THIS, WINNER!

The regular NaNoWriMo side of the coin was minted in the depths of Mount Doom from shards of broken glass, rusty nails, and used razor blades, and carries with it the sensation of being forced to do horrible homework in hell while being whacked across the knuckles at varying intervals by a demon nun wielding a spiked ruler. It plays the screeching sound of nails on a chalkboard turned up to 11 every time it comes up in a toss. 

I also discuss my return to writing erotica.

I will be pleased to wrap this poetry manuscript up. The April PAD Challenge/NaPoWriMo, September's Haiga/Poetry Illustration Challenge which I inflict on myself annually, OctPoWriMo in October (duh), and the November PAD Chapbook Challenge/NaNoHellMo really wring me out. Each of those sessions leaves me feeling like it's time to throw in the towel, but there's no rest for the wicked. I also need to complete a 5000-ish word story for The First Line by the end of this month. I forgot about it, so it's time to get crackin'. 

http://thefirstline.com/submission.htm

You have until the end of this month to sign up for my newsletter if you'd like to receive a free copy of my first poetry volume, Another Autumn. I'm planning some cool changes to the newsletter format this year, so don't miss out! 

https://bit.ly/NaughtyNetherworldNews

Click the following link if you'd like to have a sneak peek at Another Autumn.

https://bit.ly/AnotherAutumn

~Ornery Owl Has Lost the Plot~

The Hops You Want

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2022/04/oh-dear-tomorrow-is-charity-sunday.html

http://mfrwbookhooks.blogspot.com/

https://www.facebook.com/groups/401643826588474

http://wewriwa.blogspot.com/

Charity Sunday: Off Topic Publishing

 

Off Topic Publishing is compiling an anthology of stories and poems inspired by the album Wayward and Upward by Spinoza Gambit. They are seeking contributions to help with publication costs and money to pay the selected authors. So far they have received 200 CAD. Their goal is 2500 CAD.

https://gofund.me/bef600d7

While there's no accounting for taste as they have thus far rejected my submissions, I believe in supporting independent artists, so I will contribute $1 to the project for every comment received on this post.

The deadline for submitting poems or stories for potential inclusion in this project is January 30 or until filled, so check the open calls page and see if they are still accepting submissions.

https://offtopicpublishing.com/opencalls/

I wasn't sure what to include with this post as far as a poem or excerpt. Three of my poems are still under consideration but I expect them to be rejected. My style doesn't seem to be a good fit for this project. I'll do what I do and publish them myself as I don't see them being a good fit for submission anywhere else. That being said, I'm opting to share the first poem in the volume.

Prodigal Moon 

Prodigal moon

You can spin me a silent tune

But you can’t return my love to me

I dare you to try

Catch him on the fly

Before he escapes ‘cross the sea

About the Poem

This poem was inspired by Prodigal Moon, the first song on the Wayward and Upward album by Spinoza Gambit. I simply wrote down what came to mind as I listened to the music and then lightly edited the work the next day. I was inspired by the idea of something that disappears and returns on a predictable schedule (the visible moon) and something that cannot return (a lost love.) 

About Me

Ornery Owl is a 56-year-old disabled former nurse living in a remote town on the plains of Northeastern Colorado with her adult son and three cats. When not penning provocative poetry as Ornery Owl, writing gloomy Lovecraftian fantasy or doomy dystopian fiction as C.L. Hart, or spinning cheeky erotic sci-fi yarns as Lil DeVille, Ornery enjoys baking (hopefully well) and drawing (admissibly badly.) Ornery also features book reviews and recommendations at her virtual online bookstore, Readers Roost.

Connect with Ornery Owl and Naughty Netherworld Press

Check out Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp if you are interested in watching a decidedly fucked-up but possibly interesting disaster of a human being trying to make sense of their train wreck of a life.

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Subscribe to the Naughty Netherworld Press newsletter because your life isn't complete until you are receiving a sporadically published newsletter haphazardly cobbled together by a round cartoon owl.

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Visit the official Naughty Netherworld Press blog. In fairness, right now it's pretty much just Insecure Writers Support Group posts.

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Visit Readers Roost. It's the link you need when you want to read.

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https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2022/01/this-coming-sunday-30th-of-january-is.html

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Charity Sunday: Denver Rescue Mission #SnipSun

 

Image by Leroy Skalstad from Pixabay

When I was working delivering groceries and takeout in downtown Denver, I often drove by the Denver Rescue Mission. Their work is never done. There isn't enough room to accommodate everyone, so I would see homeless folks outside. 

I saw a group of people in wheelchairs huddling together to keep warm.

I saw an elderly man with a walker sitting up against the wall.

The nearby trash cans tend to be perpetually overflowing. The police are always in close proximity, but I never witnessed anyone causing problems. 

I would be homeless myself if it hadn't been for my son allowing me to live with him. After I was fired from my more-than-full-time job in March of 2017, I could no longer keep up with the bills. I was never able to work full-time again because of my increasing levels of disability. From that day forward I was only able to do low-paying contract work and my reserves quickly disappeared.

The house that my son and I now live in is bought and paid for thanks to the generosity of his dad, who used the money he inherited from his aunt to purchase it.

I don't dislike my ex-husband. Far from it. We divorced amicably in 1994. We have been family to each other for years. 

There should be no homelessness, but with the cost of housing, it is becoming reality for more and more people.

My family has given to the Denver Rescue Mission for decades. I will donate a dollar for every comment I receive on this post.

https://denverrescuemission.org/ways-to-give/

The following is an excerpt from my newly-published poetry volume, December Mood.

Our Last Stand

Free use image by Peter H on Pixabay

https://pixabay.com/photos/gang-floor-pforphoto-house-4058017/

When I was young, I believed that my dreams would come true eventually if I just believed hard enough. I believed that when I wished on a star that fairies or angels would work to make my wishes come true.

I believed that if I worked hard, I would be accepted into the Magical World of Shiny Happy People that lay beyond the Wall of Despair.

Then my body failed me.

My son and I moved away from the city to a town far from anywhere.

My Big Bright Dreams are dead and gone, but I believed that perhaps a few people would pay a couple dollars to read my little stories.

My money is gone.

I had one last chance

to turn defeat to triumph

I failed our last stand

there is nothing behind the wall

except a space where the wind whistles

144 words

Prompts used and how the poem was created:

D’Verse Poets: Write a piece of prose incorporating the given verse.

https://dversepoets.com/2020/11/09/of‐houses‐walls‐and‐whistling‐winds/

The verse is:

“there is nothing behind the wall

except a space where the wind whistles”

from “Drawings by Children” by Lisel Mueller

What I wrote is a non‐standard Haibun. For those who don’t know, a Haibun is a piece of prose followed by a Haiku. Mine is non‐standard because I placed the two lines above at the end of the Haibun. I originally had them at the beginning of the piece, but I thought they worked better following the Haiku.

If this form goes utterly against the prompt, the hosts of the hop can feel free to remove my link.

I won’t take it personally. I’m too damn tired.

What I wrote is not fiction. It is the Reader’s Digest Condensed Soup version of an entirely autobiographical situation. I would not recommend eating too much of this soup. It will give you heartburn and a bellyache.

The November PAD Chapbook Challenge prompt for today was to write an “our blank” poem.

The title of the Haibun is “Our Last Stand,” and those words also appear in the Senryu portion following the prose.

https://www.writersdigest.com/write‐better‐poetry/2020‐november‐pad‐chapbook‐challengeday‐9

The word of the day is Triumph, which also appears in the Senryu. I have to say that I feel anything but triumphant in this moment. In fact, I feel like I’m going to hurl.

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2020/11/09/triumph/

Buy Links

This book is always free from Kindle Unlimited. The price to own a copy is $2.99.

https://amzn.to/328embo

The PDF is available from Payhip for $1.50, which is approximately half of the Amazon price. Any tip included to help offset fees set by Paypal and Payhip is appreciated.

https://bit.ly/DecMoodPH

Or buy the PDF on Odysee for 15 LBC, which is approximately half the Amazon price. The value of an LBC at the time of this posting was approximately $0.05. 

https://bit.ly/DecMoodOd

http://www.facebook.com/groups/SnippetSunday

Charity Sunday: In Memory of my Dad

 

Today is the eleventh anniversary of my father's passing. He had a serious hemorrhagic stroke in 2006. In the following years he had more strokes, developing vascular dementia. During his working life he had been a college professor. Towards the end of his life, he would read and re-read the same line in a catalog. He also developed congestive heart failure. His circulation was so poor that at the time of his passing, his lower legs were purple.

Collier Hospice in Wheat Ridge, Colorado was the second best thing to being able to pass away at home. The room was spacious, pleasant, and quiet. The staff were attentive but allowed for plenty of private family time. On the night before he departed, I read my father A Child's Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas. He always read it to my brother and me when we were kids, along with Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. I know that in this lifetime, I will never again be able to read A Child's Christmas in Wales aloud because I can't get through it without breaking down.

I will donate a dollar for every comment received on this post to SCL Health in honor of my father.

Link to learn more about Collier Hospice.

https://www.sclhealth.org/locations/lutheran-hospice/services/hospice/

Link for the SCL Health Foundation donation page.

https://www.sclhealth.org/ways-to-give/

I apologize, but NaNoWriMo in conjunction with the November Poem-a-Day Brain-Dissolving Challenge has dissolved my brain and I can't think of an excerpt to post. If you would like to read a gloomy holiday-related poem that will appear in a future anthology, follow the link.

https://poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com/2021/11/november-pad-challenge-2021-ghost-of.html

I'm adding in the 28th chapter of my NaNoHellMo project. I'm 1000 words from being able to stick a fork in that fucker. Be forewarned, it's a long read.

Day 28

28 November 2021

Spirit of the Universe, please set aside everything I think I know about myself, about my story, about my need for validation, and especially about you, Universe, so that I may have an open mind and a new experience with myself, with my story, with my need for validation, and with you, Universe. Please help me to see the truth. Amen.

Today is the 11^th anniversary of my dad’s passing. It was about a half-hour ago that the hospice called my mother to inform her that he was gone. The ringer on my phone wasn’t working so she had to call twice. On the second time she said something hurtful that has stuck with me. She said “you’re never here for me.”

I don’t want to sit too long in this place. My mother is better these days, not as angry any more. However, my parents’ disappointment in me has always been palpable to me. I think it’s been a driving force in my life. I want to show them that I can be successful without having to do what they want me to do because I can’t do what they wanted me to do.

My parents helped me a lot financially over the years but it always came at the price of having to listen to how disappointed they were in me. I felt like I was always begging them to see what a mess I was, to please have some understanding for me and to let me get better so I could succeed on my terms.

I remember when I got the job in the independent living section of the retirement community where I worked. It was such a relief to not have to kill myself in the long-term care center anymore. Part of what got me the job was my EMT license. I was never able to work as an EMT because I would have had to take a $4 per hour pay as an entry level EMT over what I was making as a C.N.A., but the license still helped me.

I liked the job in the independent living section much better. I had a lot more autonomy and there was far less heavy lifting. I was proud when I told my father that I’d finally found a job that I thought I could stick with. His response was “well, we’ll have to see about that.” He and my mother were hell-bent on having me get my nursing license so I could make more money. There went my feeling of pride in one fell swoop.

When I did get the nursing license some six years later, I made between $2 and $6 more per hour than I had made working as a resident assistant, and I was killing myself working 60-hour weeks. My sciatica got better because the first case I had involved working with a one-year-old infant whose case resolved.

The next major case I had would be the main client I worked with for the rest of my career in nursing. It might have been okay if the patient had stayed with the agency that I was working with, but there was a serious disagreement between the agency and the patient’s mother, so he was transferred to a different agency.

I signed on with the new agency but kept my foot in the water, so to speak, at the agency I was already with. I had good (though expensive) health insurance through them. I did not know about the Medicaid buy-in if it existed, and I don’t know if it existed in 2016. There can be dry spells working for homecare agencies, so I figured it was smart to be signed on with more than one.

Working as much as I did fucked my health to hell. One of my patients developed a severe respiratory infection which he passed on to me. I had to call off from my other assignments so I wouldn’t pass it on to those patients, but my coordinator told me that I could keep working with the patient from whom I’d picked up the illness because I couldn't re-infect him and laid on the guilt by saying “the family really needs you.”

My diabetes was getting worse and I wasn’t on insulin yet. I was really, really sick. There is no way under the sun that I should have been working. During the night, I sat by this patient’s bedside. I would play games on my tablet or write on my laptop. Sometimes I dozed off, but it was a light sleep and I would always snap to if something were amiss.

I didn’t snap to on this occasion. I recall looking at the time when I started feeling so drowsy that I knew I was going to go under. I was in a state of complete unconsciousness for the next 20 minutes. When I woke up, the patient’s father was sitting at the end of the patient’s bed glaring at me. I collected my things, apologized profusely, and left. I knew what was coming.

I think that I had a T.I.A. (transient ischemic attack) brought on by all the stress that my body was undergoing. I was well and truly unconscious. I was, unsurprisingly, fired from the first agency. I wanted to rail at my coordinator for putting me in that position, but I remained stoic during the process, responding only with “yep” and “nope” and finally saying “okay, bye,” and leaving.

It wasn’t so bad at first because the second agency kept me on with the patient I’d been working with before. Unfortunately, his case worsened to the point where he needed more care than a regular LPN could provide. He had a rare x-linked genetic disease and was going to start needing infusions. I am unsure if he is still alive. He had lived longer than most kids diagnosed with this condition.

I tried to go back to work in a long-term care center when the homecare agency was unable to find me another suitable client. It didn’t work out. The diabetes had taken a lot out of me physically by then and I felt like I was going to pass out. I also felt confused, probably as a result of my blood sugar taking a dive.

There is a high rate of burnout in long-term care and this is because they work their staff to death.

I made a promise to my father that I haven’t been able to keep when I was sitting beside his body in his room at the hospice. I promised that I would finish my Bachelor’s degree in English. My father was a college professor and was always disappointed that I only had an associate's degree. Unfortunately, I am too busy to take on even one more thing.

One always hears these stories about people getting a lucky break after years of hard work. I honestly don’t think I’m ever going to be able to join that crowd.

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2021/11/this-coming-sunday-28th-of-november-is.html

30 Days of Haiga 2021: If We Value Life #8Sunday #SnipSun #CharitySunday

 

Background Image: the Six of Pentacles card from the Rider-Waite Tarot

Text Art and Effects by Ornery Owl (Cara Hartley)

The text on the image reads:

fair treatment for all

a value that all must share

if we value life

This Haiga will be part of a collection to be published in the forthcoming months.

I am still working on formatting my forthcoming poetry collection "December Mood." I have decided that this collection will be released in December. An innovative idea, I know.

Today is Charity Sunday. It might seem a strange thing for a devout Agnostic and far-fallen Catholic like me to donate to a church, but the Friendship Alliance Church in Grover, Colorado walks the talk. 

My son and I live in Grover. It is one of the poorest communities in Colorado. We go to the food bank at Friendship Alliance Church once a month. We get most of our food there. We still need to purchase meat, cheese, and bread, but the food bank supplies a lot of essentials such as canned fruits and vegetables and cereal.

I will donate a dollar for every comment received to Friendship Alliance Church. You can visit their website here to learn more about them.

https://www.myfachurch.org/

In other issues of concern, I have figured a way around the problem of books added to the Roost Recommendations (http://bit.ly/ReadersRoost) later in the month getting the short end of the stick. 

From this day forward, books discovered between the 1st and the 15th will be added to the current month's Roost Recommendations, and books discovered after the 15th will be added to the forthcoming month's Recommendations. I believe that this will facilitate equal exposure for all featured books.    

Apologies for this cobbled mess of a post. I had a wonderful post all ready to go save for a few minor details, but disaster struck. This damn Google Desktop update has been hijacking the processor on my 6-year-old computer for the better part of two days. 

Thus, things move slowly, and when I made the critical error of hitting CTRL-Z without insuring that only the newly pasted erroneous text was highlighted, the entire post was deleted and I wasn't able to move fast enough to stop Blogger from saving the now-blank post. So, now you get this reconstructed fuckery.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~

Free-use image from Open Clipart Vectors

No, I'm not drunk, although if I could drink alcohol, I would be.

http://wewriwa.blogspot.com

http://www.facebook.com/groups/snippetsunday

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2021/09/the-most-effective-antidote-to.html

The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)

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