My Craft Archives - Page 12 of 14

Joann Jett Joined The Stage Band

By Michael Shawn Sommermeyer | December 20, 2016January 6, 2017 by Michael Shawn Sommermeyer

[aesop_image imgwidth=”825″ img=”https://wordsmithholler.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/jazz-1263988_1920.jpg” credit=”Pixabay” align=”left” lightbox=”on” captionposition=”left” revealfx=”off”] Behind the library, between the quad and the band room, the Stoners smoke packs of red Marlboro’s. For all practical purposes, this might as well be no man’s land. Only sand dirt seems to grow and the green soccer field starts 80 yards farther away. I imagine the area remained hidden before the school added the soccer field and a football arena. The area is the perfect…

My Craft

Decisions, decisions

By Michael Shawn Sommermeyer | December 7, 2016 by Michael Shawn Sommermeyer

[aesop_image imgwidth=”800″ img=”https://wordsmithholler.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/one-way-street-1113973_1920.jpg” credit=”Pixabay” align=”left” lightbox=”on” captionposition=”left” revealfx=”off”] Oh, the mysteries Ever pondering why. Should I dive in? Or should I just try? The decisions I must make Compel me to giggle. I never seem to have Any room to wiggle. If only I had a way To make decisions play. I’d put them to rest; Deciding what’s best. I think I know Just what to do. I’ll ask my Magic 8 Ball Instead of…

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Wakan Tanka Waits For Me

By Michael Shawn Sommermeyer | November 18, 2016November 21, 2018 by Michael Shawn Sommermeyer

Taking the mother road east Seemed like a rewind trip Into the dreams of west bound Men and ladies who left Chi Town for Santa Monica; they Sought the sunny shore to rest. Sunset at our back door down Somewhere in Arizona The passenger trains replaced By cargo trailers never to stop At wide clips of towns built only For fuel or Indian trinkets. In the distance a tee pee Settled between branches of Mesquite or salt cedar…

My Craft

The Baby Picture

By Michael Shawn Sommermeyer | November 14, 2016January 18, 2017 by Michael Shawn Sommermeyer

A mysterious letter sends a man scampering to escape the city. But what if he’s already too late?

My Craft

A Short Cut to the Dining Room

By Michael Shawn Sommermeyer | November 8, 2016November 21, 2018 by Michael Shawn Sommermeyer

The man stood by the glass door with a bag over his hand and he nodded his head back. Danny looked at him through the water gurgling up from the water fountain. He swallowed another mouthful and considered opening the door. The man wore a beanie cap, a blue work short, jeans, and he held a green bag with his left hand in front of his right. Behind the bag he appeared to hold something…

My Craft

Taking the Road to School

By Michael Shawn Sommermeyer | November 8, 2016November 8, 2016 by Michael Shawn Sommermeyer

[aesop_image imgwidth=”500px” img=”https://wordsmithholler.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/cow-234835_1920.jpg” credit=”Pixabay” align=”left” lightbox=”on” captionposition=”left” revealfx=”off”] He hid behind a branch, yet she found him. A pink travelers case, with a dancing ballerina inside, hung at his hip. She packed inside his breakfast of creamed wheat and bobbing raisins. Now she wondered if it sloshed inside covering the ballerina with a sticky sauce. He refused to eat his breakfast. Definitely, he announced he would leave home forever. She packed up his suitcase and…

My Craft

Retirement Tomatoes

By Michael Shawn Sommermeyer | November 5, 2016March 1, 2017 by Michael Shawn Sommermeyer

[aesop_image imgwidth=”500px” img=”https://wordsmithholler.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/tomato-498721_1920.jpg” credit=”Pixabay” align=”left” lightbox=”on” captionposition=”left” revealfx=”off”] His tomato plant stood in the middle of a mound of sand as a brittle stick with two wilted branches. He tried more water, which puddled around the stick. Water seemed to only lubricate the small grains before they cut into the base of the $2 plant. If a man could grow a field of potatoes on Mars, he should be able to grow a tomato. Or could he? Across from…

My Craft

Scarlet Ribbons

By Michael Shawn Sommermeyer | November 2, 2016November 2, 2016 by Michael Shawn Sommermeyer

[aesop_image imgwidth=”500px” img=”https://wordsmithholler.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/little-girl-1304950_1920.jpg” credit=”Pixabay” alt=”Scarlet Ribbons” align=”left” lightbox=”off” captionposition=”left” revealfx=”off”] The trip required three bus changes, a slight wait, and the chance of no seat. He just wanted to forget work on the humming bus ride home. Before noon, someone clogged the sixth floor toilets. The backup sent water over the walkway as he returned to lunch. After a shower of piss water, Robert Lotz needed a seat. The bus lurched to the stop letting out a…

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A Moment of Pure Truth

By Michael Shawn Sommermeyer | October 24, 2016April 25, 2019 by Michael Shawn Sommermeyer

Christopher stood over the maze of workday and eyed the ocean. A thin fog cloud floated passed his perch on the 45th floor. On the docks, sea lions barked at tourists. East Bay traffic sought a faster path, ships hauled electronics in and almonds out, and the blood-red sun sunk into late afternoon north of the Golden Gate. In the conference room, five people sat in executive chairs around a table. Their faces reflected gloomy…

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A Visitor Awaits

By Michael Shawn Sommermeyer | October 19, 2016March 27, 2019 by Michael Shawn Sommermeyer

The desert wind blew warm and dry across his face layering grit on his chapped lips. He dropped the square bottle to his mouth and let the agave drip down his chin. The cold air bit into his bones. He wrenched the long robe tighter around him.