Author: ralphcuellar

Ralph Cuellar lives in Oregon, and loves nature and politics, and is usually in conflict over both. He is a writer and has played around with software and hardware a little too much in his life, so he left that world behind after a little dance.

PROMPT: 1)RUNNING WATER 2)YELLOW FALL OF LEAVES

September 9, 2019

There were two prompts in today’s meeting:

  • Running Water
  • Yellow Fall of Leaves

 

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SEPTEMBER 1, 2019: MONDAY MEETING WILL BE HELD AT THE FOREST GROVE UNITED METHODIST CHURCH

September 1, 2019 – Due to the The Senior Center being closed for the Labor Day holiday, the Monday morning meeting of Writers in the Grove will be held at the Forest Grove United Methodist Church in the library room, starting at the regular 9am time.

The church is located at 1726 Cedar St. in Forest Grove (corner of 17th and Cedar).

We very much appreciate the generosity of the church in letting the group meet there.

PROMPT: SIMILES AND METAPHORS

August 19, 2019

The prompt used a reading from the book titled, INCAS The Gold Of Cuzco, by A. B. Daniel.

     INCAS
The Gold Of Cuzco

The fog would now disperse, now descend at the whim of invisible gusts of wind. Occasionally Gabriel, approaching a pass, would find himself blinded briefly by the harsh light of the sun slanting through it and would then see a sky as deeply blue as ocean.

He felt as though he was traveling into a supernatural world. Gradually the slopes became as gentle as a rolling sea swell. The short yellow grass was covered in dust worn from the rocks by years of frost. The monotony of the red and ocher earth was broken only by occasional black boulders rising from it like colossal blisters. Man was unwelcome here, and only luck could determine the success or failure of a voyage across this land.

In this passage the author is comparing the land to the ocean, and the expedition to a “voyage” across the land.

The prompt is to write a couple of paragraphs that use similes and metaphors to make a connection or analogy between things that are essentially unlike each other.

 

TASTE OF CHILDHOOD

The following was submitted by Writers in the Grove member, Mary Jane Nordgren.
It was in response to the prompt, “A taste, a touch, or a smell from childhood“.

taste of childhood

grandma was a lady, precise, particular

her dining room table manner formal

but at her green-patterned, formica kitchen table

sis and I got to dig into root beer floats

and slurp every last quarter-inch of sweet-bubbled foam

 

PROMPT: THREE PROMPTS

July 22, 2019

There were three prompts in today’s meeting:

First Prompt: This month is the 50th anniversary of the Apollo 11 Moon landing, so the prompt is: One small step…

Second Prompt: A poem taken from the book titled, “A Pebble In The Sky, with beaches”, by Bev Walker.

Flyway

A path taken, invisible, indestructible
You know where it is, you’re drawn to it.
The wind may take you there.
Then again, it may not.
You can’t see or touch it with your hand.
It’s not on a map.
Others may show you some of it,
Just to keep you on course.
But you must flap your own wings.
No one feels the wind in your face for you.
It gives you wings, takes you traveling
From the sea to a house in a tree
From universe to universe you may go
But it goes nowhere.
It’s the voice of parent, friend, child
Or it makes no sound at all
Sometimes the view takes your breath away.
Sometimes the weather grounds you.
Even then you discover
It’s worth every minute.
Take the invisible , indestructible path
Of His incomprehensible truth.
Fly!

Third Prompt: A poem taken from the book titled, “A Pebble In The Sky, with beaches”, by Bev Walker.

Between Raindrops

There’s this space I like. Here. Now.
   It’s somewhere between Christmas
and a brave new world. It’s a quiet space.

The noise, hurry, hoopla, deadlines, anxieties
   Are gone.
It’s not time yet to get up and start over.

It’s not time to pay bills, clean house, write letters.
   Go. Do.
It’s a space warm and slow.

It’s like the quiet of a stable
   Cloaked with gentler sounds
As childhood ought to be.

The sun shines between showers
   It doesn’t know yesterday,
Or tomorrow.

Yesterday thousands died in an earthquake
   Wars have not ceased.
Disease and misery flourish.

But like the space between raindrops
   There are moments even dragons must sleep.
Treasure this space. And then…

“The cattle are lowing, the baby wakes…”
Like the peace of snowfall
Take Christmas with you into the fray.