anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com
Tomato | another train metaphor
https://anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com/2016/08/16/tomato
Trying to get it write. August 16, 2016. August 16, 2016. There on the vine, the tiny red ball has grown. Despite time and drought, it is there, hanging. But small and misshapen. Clinging in the mist and rain. To the home that grew it. The vine that was deliberately placed and cared for. The flower that opened and turned. Ready, but not ready. It hopes, yearning to be the desired one,. Cupped in a hand that could easily crush it. Wanting the touch, but loving the vine. Paused between for just a moment.
anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com
Submarine | another train metaphor
https://anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com/2016/08/17/submarine
Trying to get it write. August 17, 2016. August 19, 2016. I know it is leaking. I am trying to ignore it. Exactly how fast does a person drown? It’s probably not that bad, I tell myself,. As I steer further offshore. It was watertight yesterday. Last week a crack appeared. Once, before, I replaced the glass and. So I didn’t worry. But last week a crack appeared. And because it was directly across my vision,. I picked at it,. Like a child with a bug bite,. Like my grandmother with a stain on her shirt,.
anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com
Cascade | another train metaphor
https://anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com/2016/01/24/cascade
Trying to get it write. January 24, 2016. January 26, 2016. Yesterday, while I stood in my kitchen,. Deeply inhaling the steam. From the just-opened dishwasher,. That had, somehow,. Into my grandmother’s kitchen,. I stared into the racks, breathing. While my mind conjured the yellow tiles,. White metal cabinets,. And apricot preserves,. On a fresh Irish scone. And in that moment,. I wondered. Somewhere,. In the whatever is Beyond,. Was my grandmother also transported. On that blast of steam,. Follow anot...
anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com
Octopus Growls | another train metaphor
https://anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com/2016/01/05/octopus-growls
Trying to get it write. January 5, 2016. January 22, 2016. I just learned, today. While perched on a stool. For enough time to pass. Before I could soap down, rinse, and dry. Today I learned that an octopus growls. Today the yellow fish is,. She is too small to fly. She needs wings,. While I’m impatiently waiting for tub to drain. Nichole M. Dulin. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). I was just reading.
anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com
Grieve now | another train metaphor
https://anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com/2015/12/28/grieve-now
Trying to get it write. December 28, 2015. December 28, 2015. You should have it out now. Mourn, keen, cry. When Steinbeck killed him,. You didn’t know it was coming. Though he did it eighty years ago,. The mercy is fresh. The murder is fresh). That’s how it is now, for you. This news, this death is fresh,. Though the body is cold,. The pain still pulses. Nichole M. Dulin. One thought on “ Grieve now. December 29, 2015 at 8:05 pm. Woah—hauntingly beautiful—FULL of Meaning………. Leave a Reply Cancel reply.
anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com
Apocryphal Defenestration | another train metaphor
https://anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com/2016/03/15/apocryphal-defenestration
Trying to get it write. March 15, 2016. Throw it all out I say. Everything must go today. This and that, that and this. Say goodbye with a kiss. You don’t need it,. You never did,. To cling to things,. Is to be a kid. There’s little you need,. But a roof and a bed,. Not bigger, not more,. Nichole M. Dulin. It’s Not The Raven. One thought on “ Apocryphal Defenestration. March 16, 2016 at 4:37 am. Rock Solid—seemingly simple—Deep Wisdom. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. A Pen and Fire.
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It’s Not The Raven | another train metaphor
https://anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com/2016/03/26/its-not-the-raven
Trying to get it write. It’s Not The Raven. March 26, 2016. Today, on my way to the chiropractor. And having started out the door with just enough time. Because a package was on the door step. And I waited to watch the kids open it. Today, on my way to the chiropractor. I traveled a shortcut. The road that winds between the greenhouse. And the collision repair shop that I watched the Amish workers build last year. Today, on my way to the chiropractor. I saw twenty or so turkey buzzards. I was just reading.
anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com
October | another train metaphor
https://anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com/2016/10/17/october
Trying to get it write. October 17, 2016. October 17, 2016. Autumn is naturally sad, I think. I watch, on social media, as the natural exuberance of summertime. Fades from the posts and photos of those who are mine. It’s my natural time of reflection,. As temperatures, and leaves, and spirits drop. I know many who like it. The bright colors, the warm comforts of hoodies and hot cider. The joys of Halloween and pumpkins, hayrides and spices. I like those things, too. In the sweaty heat of an August night.
anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com
Lacing | another train metaphor
https://anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com/2016/10/31/lacing
Trying to get it write. October 31, 2016. October 31, 2016. I can hear the gasp. Unuttered. It is right there,. In the quiet space. Nichole M. Dulin. 2 thoughts on “ Lacing. October 31, 2016 at 8:52 pm. This was made for a live reading. November 1, 2016 at 12:04 am. Liked by 1 person. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. I was just reading.
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Unfriended | another train metaphor
https://anothertrainmetaphor.wordpress.com/2016/04/28/unfriended
Trying to get it write. April 28, 2016. July 22, 2016. I noticed today that I had been quietly unfriended by someone I used to know. I’m a little sad, but not deeply offended. I enjoyed her feed. A nice look into a world so much different than mine. I’m certain it was done without animus. At times I find my life tedious. Perhaps she saw the same. The mommy posts. The innocent work kvetch. I try to walk the middle of the road. Enough about the kids for the family to keep up, but not enough to make me.
