Lost

I was staying in Maybell, Colorado in a little shack. It was a town that was so small that the library was a trailer, and the one gas station sold bumper stickers that proudly put their name on a map with "Where the heck is Maybell, Colorado?!"
All around was dusty air, pale, ugly skies and sagebrush…miles and miles of it. I felt a twinge of excitement if a truck happened to pass by. It meant people were still around.
I was working as a research assistant for a graduate student who happened to be studying the impact of fences on wildlife. My job? To walk along fence lines half a mile out, and a quarter of a mile in. Alone, with nothing but my water bottle, clipboard and GPS. My week took a turn when my good friend and co-worker, Ashlee, was sent out to Colorado to join me.
"You wanna take this one?" Ashlee asked as our truck pulled alongside a fence that seemed to be the appropriate length.
I looked at it and gulped. There were lots of hills. "It'll be good exercise," I joked. I hopped out of the truck, covering my shoes with another layer of dust. I refilled my water bottle from the orange thermos, grabbed my clipboard, walkie-talkie and GPS unit, and slammed the door.
"See you in a while!" she called out to me through the open window. The truck bounced away one mile down the road where she would meet me, dust erasing both her and her tire tracks. Once the air was clear, I took a deep breath, whispered, "Okay," and trudged along the fence.
I half-hoped to find a carcass just so I could have something interesting to do. Minus the awful smell of decay and the pang of sorrow at seeing a limb dangling from the wires, it was something different than the miles of quiet solitude. I was so tired of smelling dirt and sagebrush, and ready to go home. "Just one more week," I kept telling myself.
I hiked along the fence, up and down great hills. I glanced at my GPS. I was almost there. The hot, empty sun pierced my skin, my legs were wobbly with fatigue, and I really wanted my peanut butter sandwich that was probably warm and soggy back in the truck. The fence was clear. I jotted down my GPS mark, then turned and headed north. One mile of eyeballing a straight line parallel to the fence a quarter of a mile away on hilly terrain was not easy. I had problems drawing a straight line with a ruler, but I was doing pretty good, considering.
I hadn't gone too far before my stomach dropped. "Who put a diagonal fence in the middle of this land?" I wondered. I was now faced with the dilemma of whether or not I should climb the fence and continue on my journey, or if I should reject this fence line as incomplete length and turn around and head back towards the dirt road. I turned to look behind me. Hills of sagebrush. There was no way I would ever see the road from here. I looked to my right…and then to my left. Hills of sagebrush in all directions. I had walked in a straight line, right?
My heart started racing. I took a deep breath. Okay, all I needed to do was climb up a hill and see the view. But my legs didn't move. I had climbed up and down several large hills. I wasn't ready to admit it. "Just don't panic. Whatever you do, don't panic." I looked carefully around, turning in slow circles. The menacing sun, mocking my fear, whipped my face with his long, fiery tendrils. I began to doubt myself and my path. That fence I had just approached, could it actually be the fence I had originally walked along, and somehow I had managed to backtrack?
Alone with nothing but the desert, reason blows away with the tumbleweeds. I looked at the fence, the hills all around, and the sky up above. I gave in to the panic. I was going to die! Nobody would ever find me out here in the middle of nowhere in Maybell, Colorado! How long before a helicopter would come and find my dried bones? I could call for Ashlee, but what good could she do? No one would ever find me, and I was going to die all alone out here!
I burst into sobs, slowly turning circles and letting my mucus and hot tears streak down my face. Nothing looked familiar. I had no idea which direction I had come from. Even with the fence, had I approached it from the left or from the right? I cried even harder, sobbing so loud I was sure vultures would be seeking me soon.
And then, a calm voice whispered to my heart: "Pray." What good was prayer going to do? Again, the thought came. "Pray." And so I prayed. Desperately. "Please, Heavenly Father, help me. Help me find my way back."
I opened my eyes, and took a deep breath. And another. And another. The sky was blue again, and I was in a peaceful plot of land with beautiful sagebrush. There was a fence, and if worse came to worse, I could follow it in either direction, and I would be at a landmark of sorts. I wouldn't die in the middle of a desert. I pulled out my walkie-talkie and called Ashlee.
"Hey, Ash, you there?" I waited, and only heard static. "You there, Ash?"
"Kim? What's going on?" her voice crackled through.
"I'm lost!" I said.
"You're breaking up," she said, her own voice breaking up. "Hang on a few minutes."
I waited, crying calmer now. At least Ashlee knew I was lost. Maybe she could drive back into town, and find someone, maybe even the land owner. Somehow, I was going to get back. After several minutes had passed, I heard her voice again.
"Did you say you're lost?" she asked, voice clear now.
"Yeah. I thought I was walking in a straight line, but there's a fence in the middle of this plot!"
A moment passed. "I don't think there's supposed to be a fence in the middle. I think you drifted."
"I know, I think I did, too, but I don't know which way I came from!" My voice was tight; the urge to cry again started to strangle my windpipe.
"Use your GPS and head west." Her voice was calm and soothing.
I turned my GPS on, upset that I hadn't thought of even using it--probably the most valuable tool a person could own while lost. It said I was facing west. I breathed out a sigh of relief. But, just to be sure, I turned to my left. And I turned to my left again. The GPS wasn't reading right!
"Ash, it's not working! It keeps saying that every direction is west!" I started crying again.
"Did you try walking with it?" she suggested a moment later.
I started walking, and the direction changed. My tears turned to a small laugh. "It's working now!" I said.
"Keep walking west, and you'll get to the road. I'll be driving back towards you."
I hiked the hills, quick with the renewed strength of hope. The direction the GPS pointed me in was not the way my instinct told me to go--in fact, it was the opposite. But I was determined to get out, and that meant following the GPS.
After several minutes, my eyes filled with tears. I found the road!! And coming towards me, with a cloud of smoke trailing behind, was Ashlee in our white Ford pickup. Relief I had never experienced flooded my heart, and I whispered a quick prayer of profound thanks.
As I sat in the truck, explaining my fearful situation to my friend, she couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Kim, you're the only person I know who can get lost in a square plot of land!"

Concrete poetry

Concrete poetry is definitely a challenge...especially when it comes to posting it on a blog! This type of poem is shaped like the object you are writing about. I've read poems in the shape of a flower, a hand, and a house. There are lots of things you can do, but be sure your poem is actually a poem, and not just words to make the shape. Where's the creativity in that? Since posting mine to my blog, I couldn't keep the original format, so I had to use the period in place of spaces. Not the best looking, I'll admit, but it was the best I could come up with. I hope you can still see the shapes in my poem, but if not, well, it's the poem that really matters, right? :)


Strength of a Tree

..............a tree
...........sits upon
.......a cliff, bent, broken
.......and strong. though the
......winds blow it, beat it, and try
.....to tear it down, it will not
...fall. it digs deep into the rock
.........determined to survive.
................i am

....................this

.......................tree.



True Love

.........My idea.......of love
....Has changed...with my age
...And experience. Love before was
.... Dressing the part, catching
......His eye, and smiles filled
.......With butterflies. But
..........Now, love is more
............Sacrifice and
.............service and
................Peace.

Color Poems

Colors were never really much more to me than colors...until I started reading these color poems that students submitted. I love how these poems give meanings and feelings to colors...they make you think, bring you back to times you had forgotten, and let you smell things you love. These poems are fun and calming to write.



The Beauty of Green

Green is invigorating
Green is warm
Green is summer
Green is life spilling down from golden, sun-dipped trees
Green tastes like tangy limeade with strawberry chunks
Green smells like sweet grass mixed with gasoline
Green sounds like the early morning birds chirping merrily
Green feels like a whisper of a breeze and lush grass beneath my feet
Green looks like a day of fresh hope and endless possibilities
Green makes me confident, happy and free
Green is the sweetest gift God has put on this earth.


The Color of Autumn

Orange is fire, crisp autumn leaves and is brittle.
Orange is the taste of hot gooey orange rolls, pumpkin pie and warm apple cider.
Orange smells like nutmeg and cinnamon sticks.
Orange makes me anxious and excited for what is about to come.
Orange is the sound of howling wind and firewood popping.
Orange is my backyard at sunset.
Orange is roasting hotdogs and marshmallows in the cold, dark mountains.
Orange is crisp days that smell like fire and sweet apples.
Orange is autumn leaves, drifting down from the trees like velvet feathers.



Black

Sagging rainclouds
A cold gate wrapped around a cemetery
Waking up from a bad dream…unsure of reality
This is black.
Long, jumping shadows
Root beer smoking with dry ice
The musty smell of a haunted house
These are black.
Black is the melancholy melody of an opera
The rickety rattling of an old roller coaster
And the lonely hooting of wide-eyed owls
Black is midnight
Black is fear
These are the things that are black.

Picture-perfect

Have you ever seen something that was so incredible that you wish you could have taken a picture to save that moment? I've had several. While attending BYU years, and years...and years ago (haha), I was walking up to campus, nose in one of my textbooks. I was desperately trying to get my reading done for a class, having been short on time with my full-time job and other homework. As I panted up the steep hill, I happened to glance up, and my heart nearly stopped. Up in the sky, there were several of the most gorgeous hot-air balloons I had ever seen! Okay, they were the first hot-air balloons I had EVER seen in real life. I was so amazed! There was something so enchanting about a sky full of rainbow balloons on an otherwise ordinary day, and for some reason, my eyes filled with tears at all the people who were missing it...simply because they didn't look up.

Another incredible sight was when I was working in Maybelle, Colorado. I was walking down a dusty dirt road, miles and miles of sagebrush to my left, and a steep dirt hill with a wire fence to my right. As I walked along the fence, I glanced up, and beheld the most gorgeous image I had ever seen. Beneath a blueberry syrup-colored sky, filled with clouds that looked like huge dollops of whipped cream, was a field with golden rolls of hay scattered around. In a land of barren ugliness was this oasis of pure beauty...and I kicked myself that my camera was in the truck a mile up the road...with a full day of work still ahead of me.

Another memory that I have was when I was wandering the Logan City cemetery for a project for my Creative Nonfiction writing class. As I strolled down the paths and weaved in and out of the gravestones, I saw a man, perhaps in his 30's, laying face down on a grave. I nearly cried. It was the saddest-and most beautiful-thing I had seen. And so, I wrote a poem about it.


The Mourner

across the busy street
inside the quiet gates
past the spinning pinwheels
behind a pair of pines
beside a vase of roses
a man is lying on a grave...
weeping

Super short poetry: cinquains

A cinquain poem is actually really fun to write. The formula I chose to use was line 1, 2 syllables. Line 2, 4 syllables; line 3, 6 syllables; line 4, 8 syllables, and line 5, 2 syllables describing line 1. So easy!

Caleb
A brand new smile
His tiny hands clutch mine
He smells so sweet like soap and milk
Baby

Summer
A warm evening
Walks along the river
Our children stop to throw in sticks
Peaceful

Mountains
Towering high
Inviting us to climb
New lands yet to be discovered
Hiking


Sweet songs
Chirping crickets
The early morning birds
The way the thunder cracks and booms
Serene

Stories
Turning pages
New adventures await
Don't want to put it down to sleep
Novel

Acrostic Revisited

The more I thought about my last acrostic, the more bothered I am by it. Acrostics should keep to the topic. My last one was about my job as a kennel attendant, not about who I am. And so I decided to write one the right way...and no, this one doesn't rhyme! :)

Who I Am

Kindness is an important trait
I'm not very good at it, but I do try.
My favorite thing is thunder storms
Because the rumbling of thunder excites me.
Exciting, too, are airplanes as they land,
Really gets my heart pumping!
Love, love, love trains, sunrises, and wet kisses from my little boys!
Youthful laughter has been replaced by the calm smiles of motherhood.

Kitty-love has been replaced by the deep love I have for my family. I've changed, but
I still write stories and long for a house in the quiet openness of the country.
Nothing quite beats the invigorating sound of morning birds' songs or rain pouring down.
Green still is my favorite color. Maybe I haven't changed that much after all.

I Am

This next poem's format was very difficult to get to since the link didn't seem to work. Here's how I got to it: After clicking on the Poetry Exercises link on the right of my blog, select grade (7-12), then "types of poetry." Go to Bio-poetry. Select "My bio-poem: a lesson of self-discovery." Next, scroll down the screen, and open the link that says "Handout 6." I used Example 2 for my formula for this poem, but feel free to explore other options. One thing I've learned: I can NOT write a poem on days I feel overwhelmed. Luckily, tonight was calm enough for me to gather my thoughts and jot some things down that were on my mind. Give this one a try, it's pretty fun!

I Am

I am a mother.
I wonder if I'm teaching my children how to live their lives to be great.
I hear their laughter and their tender "I love you's."
I see their eager eyes, their happy smiles, and the carefully distorted drawings they make for me.
I want to play, read, talk and laugh with them more.

I pretend that we have it all, and are in need of nothing.
I feel scared, weak, and inept at the challenges I daily face.
I touch their sweet soft cheeks, their rough, mud-caked hands, and their coarse, crumb-covered hair…and I love it.
I laugh when Daddy gets food thrown onto him by our one-year-old.
I cry when I leave for work and realize I forgot to kiss my children goodbye.

I say that I'm going to do better tomorrow, to stay calm, and to hold my boys more tenderly.
I ask for God's divine help with patience, kindness, and more understanding.
I understand that I won't be perfect, but I can give my children perfect love.
I try to give them a home they will want to return to every day.
I am a mother.