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Monday, May 14, 2012

Water to Pop the Oil

I Love EDP
Water to Pop the Oil


The black rectangular screen is unhinged and set erect; a welcome screen meets my eyes. Ten small digits type a password into a box. While waiting for the whirling boot up, I walk away to pour myself some Wild Sweet Orange tea; a ping is heard from across the room. Tea in hand, I scan the inbox; my eyes catch the words Every Day Poems. I open the email and a wonderland of words and pictures come into focus. It’s here, this month’s newsletter!  I devour what’s inside. I take my non-squeaking mouse click on an image and it opens to a new window; an illustration— The Poet from sweet 14/15 year old Sara Barkat pops up. Reading, I laugh at the Poet’s newest escapade of having to write for the Local Senior Ladies Club and the mishaps he commits after having lost his writing license weeks before. The Poor guy is fighting a strenuous battle for supremacy and just can’t beat the “formats” down to where they let him use them as weapons for good. 

Daily poems arrive in my box creating more joy than the monthly email does. Seriously this is the best $2.99 I’ve spent all year! To start and cap off the week my two favorite days— Monday’s “steal a word from our poem to make a new poem” challenge and the Friday Picture prompt. I am in heaven. My photo folder is filled with the gorgeous and oft times thought provoking pictures that spur on my poetry and to be truthful some of my short stories. I am thankful that Facebook placed an ad that I dared to click on.  

My mind before subscribing to Tweetspeak and buying a year subscription to Every Day Poems was churning with new words; I was raring to let my fingers unleash the fury that was building up inside but it is sluggishly coming out not at all the storm I expected. Like the oil spill in the Gulf, my mind had become gummed up and was ruining the words that seconds before were freely floating towards the surface. The monthly and daily emails from Every Day Poems are the tiny droplets of water that pop the oily sludge that churns in my head onto a new page.