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Polar Paul's Poetry Blog: July 2006

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Polar Paul's Poetry Blog. Sunday, July 30, 2006. I could chose to kill myself but. It'd have to be more than just. Relief or release from my current situation. To create enough of a splash. To make the front pages of the tabloids. A public death even the kids could see. Trampled by a herd of bunnies. Smothered in their fuzzy fur. During an easter parade. Then dipped in chocolate afterwards. Stored in cryogenic stasis. Thawed out when my list of demands. I could go out to the mathematical tones. Douse the...

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Polar Paul's Poetry Blog: October 2006

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Polar Paul's Poetry Blog. Sunday, October 29, 2006. Driving down dirt roads in a 40k SUV. With running boards and clearance. Too low for jeep trails. We each scan our side of the road. For tracks in the snow. So far we've only seen one. Strung up by the neck. From a tree by a rope. Wrapped in cheese cloth. I'm the passenger, a rookie on the tour. Know nothing of guns or hunting. Still blood lust wells within me. After days of scanning snow covered. Pines, brush, and aspen. After dressing them out. Told m...

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Polar Paul's Poetry Blog: May 2006

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Polar Paul's Poetry Blog. Monday, May 29, 2006. Dried out shower deprived skin. Should any inspiration flow. The other drawing it. To the real thing. Girls in your class. Girls on the bus. Aware you can not stare. An erotic zone sniper. Lining up future targets. Mail order catalog magazines. JC Penny and Avon come calling. Underwear ad and swimsuit models. Scanned for protruding nipples. Beneath cloth covered swollen breasts. Rain soaked paper magazines. Added to under mattress. Can't get off to that.

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Polar Paul's Poetry Blog: April 2006

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Polar Paul's Poetry Blog. Friday, April 28, 2006. A quick primping glance in the mirror outside the dance. Where the oak leaves of fall. Swirl in wind's rhythm. Black clouds foretell of the catastrophe. That is about to transpire on the floor. In the middle of your favorite slow love song. Emotions encapsulated in a song. Protocol precludes requesting a dance. Remain parked on the sidelines till brought to the floor. Your blood pressure may fall. Perhaps a spell of fainting will be your catastrophe.

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Barbara Ellen Sorensen Pinewood Musings: Writing Life in the Foothills: June 2014

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Barbara Ellen Sorensen Pinewood Musings: Writing Life in the Foothills. Sunday, June 29, 2014. Below is an example of a paper I wrote for some lazy college student. I honestly don't know how they get a way with doing this! Metacognition has myriad facets and strategic properties so a precise definition may seem confusing. 8226; Is the thesis clearly stated? 8226; In the context of a paper, do most of the points follow specific paragraphs in a logical manner? 8220;various intelligences and learning styles...

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Barbara Ellen Sorensen Pinewood Musings: Writing Life in the Foothills: May 2013

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Barbara Ellen Sorensen Pinewood Musings: Writing Life in the Foothills. Friday, May 17, 2013. Erotica, Death, Disease, Desire. Someone recently asked me how I would reconcile these four states of being. They. Asked me because I have just written an erotic ebook , The Bluest. Which is available not only from Amazon.com, but through Barnes and Noble, various erotic. Ebook publishers, and of course, Breathless Press. Who provided me with the best editorial advice. A girl could want. View my complete profile.

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Barbara Ellen Sorensen Pinewood Musings: Writing Life in the Foothills: April 2015

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Barbara Ellen Sorensen Pinewood Musings: Writing Life in the Foothills. Tuesday, April 14, 2015. Blogging for My Class and a Family Photo. No, my granddaughter has not yet arrived! I am very anxious to meet her. She has been kicking and twirling around in Kristin's tummy for awhile now and everyone wonders if she will be the next soccer star! A modest amount, but an amount nevertheless. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). View my complete profile. Compositions of the Dead Playing Flutes. My chapbook, Song From t...

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Barbara Ellen Sorensen Pinewood Musings: Writing Life in the Foothills: March 2014

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Barbara Ellen Sorensen Pinewood Musings: Writing Life in the Foothills. Sunday, March 23, 2014. Here I am up in Banner, Wyoming, at an artist's residency. Accessing wifi is sketch, as is streaming anything on Netflix or YouTube. Phones don't often work and me and the other writer, a darling young woman from Brooklyn, are seriously out-numbered. The four other residences are visual artists! I am the only poet; Jane, the other writer, does fiction and journalism. Some days I do nothing at all. Any concerns...