Wednesday, October 16, 2013

I do, I have a problem

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. 

You may even share my guilty pleasure... Its the Kid's section of the book store. 

Don't get me wrong -- I belong to a book group. I even started it- but I started it because I knew I would never read grown-up books if I didn’t. As a result I feel reasonably well read and can hold up my end of a cocktail party conversation. I’m even glad to have read each book (even the ones I hate) after I’ve finished. 

But when I walk into a bookstore, I go straight to the back, where the kids books are.

It took me a long time to admit to my vice. I really would rather read a book intended for a 12-year-old than any other. There is something wonderful about magic, making friends, navigating school days, loving pets. I love the re-telling of old tales. I love the mind of innocence discovering the dualities of the world.

I want to share the world I love. 

On this blog I'll share my own work – maybe chapters or short pieces.  I'll tell you about books I love. I’ll write about things that inspire me, and I might even share a poem or two of my own (see my other blog – “A Desk of My Own” ). I also might wind up posting a lot about Kudzu – a crazy vine that grows in the southern U.S. and is the framework of my own story about a kingdom that exists behind the veil of kudzu. 

But I also want to catch other people's work. I'd like to do guest posts from kids I know (or kids I'd like to meet!)  - illustrations, poetry, story ideas, I'd like to show off illustrations from some of my artist friends. 

Join me -- Bzzzz

The Bee Catcher

Why do we condemn them, poor things, to this terrible fate?
A few stings, an annoying buzz around our food, and we set our traps.

The sweet smell of coca cola entices them,
draws them toward the opening in the bottom of the trap.

Once there they fly delightedly around the small supposed paradise,
anticipating a full meal of sugar.

But then they fly too low, realize too late that
There is no place to alight, other than in that beautiful dark liquid.

Caught now, they still hope.
Surely the goodness all around cannot bring with it their demise?

How we have tricked them, who merely sought to do the bidding of their Queen,
yet strayed too irritatingly into our human orbit.

Fly away, then, poor bees, you’ll find no harvest here - 
Certain doom awaits you at our breakfast table.