New Year Resolution

Peter Ramkin stood in front of the large picture window.  He felt like he ran around the world without a sleigh.  It was after 9, maybe after 10, Peter always lost count of time between Christmas and the new year.  Peter hated delivering presents, because some people were highly aggitated at Peter for delivering their presents after Christmas.  They didn't care that Peter saved up his money working for a boss he fantasied killing.

"I'm not the real Santa Clause." Peter often yelled at a few of the people who got upset with him for handing out gifts after December 26.  "I dont' have a sleigh, reindeer or elves to help me." Sometimes people argued with him about the appropriateness of the gifts he gave.  He always asked, "who else is going to give these kids gifts." That usually shut them up, because it was true.  No one cared about these kids.

"Peter, I'm asking you a question."

Peter turned from the snow and dark night and looked at Amanda.  She stood facing Peter in the living room.
She was holding their coats.

"I don't think Hoover Bar And Grill will give away our reservations.  We'll be fine."

"You look like you wish you didn't have to act like Santa Clause." Amanda paused as she stared at Peter.  He looked like someone beat him up emotionally.  "You look drained.  It made me wonder if you were trying to make up for something you did.  Giving to poor people is your penance.  You never look happy."

"Have you thought of your New Year Resolution?" Peter took his coat from Amanda and put it on.

"No." Amanda put her coat on.  "I thought we should make up resolutions for each other."

"What, that's crazy. What's yours for me?"

"Let's go, Hoover won't hold our reservations all night."

"No, you're going to answer me, stop all of this." Peter stopped talking when Amanda glared at him.  He appologized when her look soften into a gaze.

"I'm just aggravated."

"Only during Christmas." Amanda took a deep breath and asked, so slowly that she seemed frightened of what Peter might say, "what did you in your life that you need to make yourself so miserable."

Peter would have to think hard to remember the details, at least all of them.  He continued to stare at Amanda.

"What did you do?"

"My uncle had a few fosters kids in his home.  I just wasn't nice to them."

"You can continue," Amanda said.  Instead of saying more, Peter opened the door and walked to the driveway.  He stood by the jeep waiting for his wife to join him.

Version 2 of Written On My Fifteen Minute Break

He’ll come on a ghostly horse
reaching towards you with a
rose too perfect to be real
A hybrid of beauty and tragedy

His song will rise from the
throat of your dreams but will be
only as real as the words you write
in your dream journal

He smells like times only authors
have lived in their published books
Knights  and tin and yonder words
But you reach for him because

what else is real

Realize that the poems he writes you
are the ones that come from the flow
of words within your dreams
Your sub and semi conscious at work

Morning light will kill him but you can
write him down in memory and keep
re-imagining different versions of his story

By: Kossiwa Kiese Kinshasa Wa Logan

Written On My Fifteen Minute Break

He’ll come on a pure white horse
that dissolves in your dreaming gaze

His offering of too perfect roses will
disintegrate in the sunlight

When he bends his joints they’ll
remind you of an era authored many times

You’ll know that only books can capture
this type of man burnt quickly by reality

But you make room for him in your bed
Can’t believe it’s just you in the morning

Finally alert you smell burnt roses...

By: Kossiwa Kiese Kinshasa Wa Logan

Retail Hostess

 
Like a good hostess
I serve you sales and other deals

In lieu of salt and pepper
I offer you our rewards program
to earn coupons and then there's
the credit card for an extra
10% savings but 15% on some occasions

You politely decline but sometimes
you’re interested in the rewards
The program’s free and you already
spend money on diapers and gates
and other baby products like tubs

We smile in between me
watching the clock on the monitor
The digital numbers seem to have halted

But I’m happy talking with you about
your babies either born or unborn


When you leave I'm shocked that
only a minute has gone by
and on a weekday there aren't
too many customers coming after you

Introduction

Here is where I'll post my fiction and poetry and any other writing, like personal essays and I welcome any feedback that you, as readers, can give me.  I'm realizing that being a writer means being brave.  For lent this year my goal is to take chances, take risks and do what I can to succeed as a fiction writer and a poet.  I'll also include writing prompts, ones I've made up and found prompts.  I think prompts are the best way to get writing.  My previous blogs were about me as a writer, and I tried one with fiction, and I'm trying again, but I'm including poetry, since that's also a passion of mine.  My first blog is coming soon.