bev walker

Tell Me a Story

The following is by Writers in the Grove member, Bev Walker, based upon the prompt, The Roles We Play.

“Why can’t a woman be more,
More like a man?” he said.
“Because then you wouldn’t be here,” says I.

Would I trade having kids,
Watching them grow,
Laugh, learn,
For the hard labor of a
Construction site?
Or sitting in an office all day?
No.

Would I trade the warm scent
Filling my kitchen
As I take loaves of fresh bread
Out of the oven,
For the oil and grease
Of a mechanic, a factory,
Or the dry sterile atmosphere
Of a skyscraper downtown?
No.

Would I like to be an astronaut,
Like Peggy Whitson,
Out there, exploring the stars?
Yes!

But the time is not,
Nor ever was,
For me to fly to the moon,
Discovery electricity,
Romance in Paris,
Dance across the Great Wall,
Or pet a tiger.
But I can.

I can do whatever anyone
Throughout time has ever done,
Feel what they’ve felt,
See what they’ve seen.

So, show me, storyteller.
Where have you been?
What have you done?
What have you seen?
Tell me a story
So I can go, too.

8 May 2017

Broadening Travel? Well, Depends.

The following is by Writers in the Grove member, Bev Walker.

I’d be much skinnier if I lived in Germany.
Cabbage, sauerkraut and beer are not my thing.
I know why Brits are such avid tea drinkers,
There isn’t a decent cup of coffee in the whole island.
I’m addicted to cheese.
I’d have to find a substitute if I lived in Scandinavia,
(Not that there is such a thing)
Their’s smells like sewage.
But how all those French stay so slim is beyond me.
Chocolate, creams, and pastries!
I gain ten pounds just looking in a bakery window.
Open the door, get a whiff, another ten.
Dare to go inside?
You’re a goner.

The Book

The following is by Writer’s in the Grove member, Bev Walkler, a poet, author, painter, and family historian.

It laughs, it cries, it shouts, it sings,
  and makes no sound at all
It’s a photo, a painting, a place to live
  you can hold in the palm of your hand.
It holds everything you can ever imagine,
  and sees nothing.
It has no hands or feet or brain
  to do what it proclaims, still
It builds a house, makes a quilt, sees an atom,
  takes you to the moon.
It comforts, cajoles, strikes terror, or peace,
  Depends on what you put in it.
It is the still small voice
  of all there is, was, or ever will be.

Frozen Fire – Chihuly Glass Speaks

The following was written by Writers in the Grove member, Bev Walker. It is dedicated to Dale Chihuly, the internationally acclaimed hand-blown glass artist from Seattle.

I wasn’t always this beautiful.
I wasn’t always such glorious colors.
I started my life’s journey, and speak to you now,
as a quite drab mere speck of sand.

The Vacation

The following was written by Writers in the Grove member, Bev Walker.

His friend said kindly, “Why don’t you take a vacation, some place quiet.”
So he did. He went hunting. A walk in the woods would be just the place.
He was going along when all of a sudden a giant jumped out in front of him.
The hunter quickly bellowed like a mating alligator, a terrible sound.
The sound scared the giant so bad he flew up into the nearest tree.
There, sitting on a limb sat a real live dinosaur eating a kumquat.
The giant scared the dinosaur so bad he dropped his kumquat.
It hit the hunter on the head knocking him out cold.
The giant jumped down from the tree, grabbed the kumquat for his breakfast and ran away.
Just as the hunter was coming around, the dinosaur jumped down from the tree,
grabbed the hunters red hat, (his ears were cold), and took off after his kumquat.
The terrified hunter immediately called a policeman
reporting there was a giant running loose in the woods
who could turn himself into a dinosaur! He’d seen it himself!
They could spot him because this dinosaur was wearing a red hat!
Policeman kindly said, “Why don’t you take a vacation friend, some place quiet.”

When Pigs Fly

Bev Walker, a long-time member of Writers in the Grove, contributed this poem. Bev specializes in writing stories and poetry with a bright and lighthearted spirit. an accomplished painter and writer, she’s published books on her family’s history and genealogy, and contributed to many anthologies. She is currently working on a memoir.

There once was a man most curious
who went from silly to serious
when the town he was happily in
was met with a great big wind.
He went up in the might swirl
of a hurricane – and with a girl.
Round and round in terrible weather
Went cow, pig and house all together.
Said the man to the spinning sky,
“Oh, oh, my, look! Pigs can fly!”
They came down in a far off land
set down by a gentle hand.
Man and girl married in a jig,
fixed the house, milked the cow, styed the pig.
And because of their whirlwind romance,
Everyone knew how to dance.
And it never caused a moment’s stir
that they never knew where they were.
So don’t fret if your life is a jumble
one day it will land all a tumble
in a haven where all things come right,
and even pigs dance with delight.