Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

May 1, 2007

Today’s Announcements

A very happy birthday goes out to our youngest writer, Chris Shiveley, a son of another one of our writers, Debra Welsh Shiveley. You can send this young man your birthday wishes and cards to: merribuck@aol.com

Donations are needed to help with the operating expenses of running the newsletter and to keep Storytime Tapestry the quality newsletter you are so accustomed to.   

Please note that Storytime Tapestry is a free newsletter to members and there will never be a cost for the newsletter. Donations are purely voluntary and no member should ever feel guilty for not making a donation at this time.

Today’s Stories

~**~**~

 The Princess

By

Pamela Perry Blaine

I was visiting my daughter and as I sat at the dining room table one day, my granddaughter, Rowan, came sweeping into the room in a manner that commanded everyone’s attention.

“My name is Alice,” said Rowan proudly as she danced around wearing a long, pink silky dress that dragged along the floor behind her.  “My name is Alice,” she repeated over and over in case I didn’t quite get it the first time. 

Like all children, my granddaughter loves to pretend.  She had just finished watching Alice In Wonderland and now she had found some dress up clothes and was pretending to be Alice. 

“Well, hello Alice, I’m glad to meet you,” I said.

Rowan looked at me and frowned suspiciously.  She didn’t seem to be quite certain if I understood about “pretend”, so just to be sure she ducked her head down, as if dropping her role of wonderland superstar for just a moment.  Quietly she whispered to me, “Grammy, I Rowan.”  As soon as she had made that quite clear, she quickly turned and floated down the hallway in her silky dress repeating over and over, “My name is Alice, my name is Alice.”

Later that same day, Rowan came into the living room wearing a fancy see through lace dress with nothing on under it but a diaper.  It was obvious that the lace dress had another piece to it that was supposed to be worn under the lace part of the dress but that didn’t matter to Rowan.  She was only interested in the fancy lacy part of the dress. 

 “I Princess” she said.   “I Princess,” Rowan repeated again as she twirled across the room just in case any of us serfs and peasants had missed her royal entry. 

“What are you doing, Rowan?”  I asked as her highness as she busied herself with adjusting the flounce at the bottom or her royal garments. 

“I Princess, I Princess,” she repeated several more times, and then all at once she spied her Momma’s brown western style high-heeled shoes that had been left by the front door.  She quickly slid her feet into the shoes.  Of course, every princess should have a pair of western cowgirl shoes to go with her lace evening gown. 

“Clomp, clomp, clomp!” the princess walked quickly around the house making near deafening noise with the wooden high heels striking against the hardwood floors.

“I miss the carpeting,” Her Daddy sighed as he was trying to read something at the desk.   He seemed to barely notice the deafening noise anymore.  It was obvious that the sound of clomping had become a regular occurrence around the house.  He had heard the sound so often that he could almost tune it out, but not quite.  I guess replacing the old carpet with hardwood floors might have been reconsidered had her Daddy and Mommy thought about baby Rowan becoming a royal princess so soon. 

“I Princess,” Rowan said to me once more before she clomped down the hallway to her brother’s bedroom.  “Clomp, Clomp, Clomp!” A couple of minutes later she made her way back down the hallway making the same earsplitting noise with the shoes.  I noticed her Daddy only winced occasionally this time.  She was wearing her same royal princess dress but she had something in her hand this time.  It was a wooden toy but I couldn’t tell for sure what toy that she was carrying.  The princess came up to me complete in fancy dress, western heels, and carrying the wooden toy.  All at once she held up the toy to me and said, “I Princess, I got gun!”   Sure enough she had her brother’s wooden toy gun.

I don’t know what it was that I did wrong but the princess was holding me at wooden gunpoint.  Perhaps I should have curtsied or kissed her hand I don’t know but if you ever find yourself traveling through Wonderland, take my advice and don’t offend the Princess. 

By

Pamela Perry Blaine

© March 2007

pamyblaine@blaines.us

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

RESTORE

Susan Hoynaki

Restore our soul to laughter as a revolving door

Turning not toward the storms of despair

For dwelling in this we abhor

Let’s rest in place where clouds are rare

Let the laughter be impenetrable in our heart

Ears for hearing love, with eyes depicting joy

To see a bright horizon from the early start

Just drop the wings of stone that will destroy

Perchance to arrive at a place like a mighty sea

Spreading love that reaches into the deepest well

Becoming the host while withdrawing the me

Mirroring the place in which we wish to dwell

Part the clouds and look inside for perspective

The sun is covered but not taken

A tapestry of sunlight will unfold to a receptive

New lease on life, with all darkness forsaken

April 21, 2007

Sandra L Hoynacki

sandylh@cox.net

~**~**~

TRAIN

Sandra Hoynacki

Amid the rain and distant lights I watched it

Wheels rumbling with a sound that split

My thoughts into many

Cigarette smoke painting blue coils that swam

Before my sight only to appear as a pentagram

Beside the steel tracks

Miles of secrets trundled along with each turn

Tracks laced with rust lay ready to burn

Another town behind

The storm thrashed outside as I sat still

The rain drops, pelting the car at will

As if flung from an angry sea

The train had long ago left the town untouched

A brief haunting song hammering out so much

Rhythm in such a short time

Flickering lights bursting into night as matches

Implanting nightmare visions as one catches

The shadow after dark

I sat there wondering when the next train would come

My foot rested on the pedal between a future and some

Distant sound of a country singer

Train

Sandra L Hoynacki

March 27, 2007

sandylh@cox.net

 ~**~**~

Readers Feedback

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