The Literary Corner: Renegade Writers Guild
Published 9:10 am Thursday, May 18, 2017
“The Broken Plate”
By Marie Craig
When I was about 5 or 6 years old, my parents and I traveled by train from our home in Black Mountain to my father’s parents’ home in Statesville. My dad’s two brothers and their families also lived in Statesville. All fourteen of us gathered for a meal at the grandparents’ home. There was not one table big enough to seat all of us, but they had two medium-size tables which were put together and covered with a big tablecloth. One of the tables had a design feature of a few inches of the four corners being cut off, making an irregular octagon. The other table had square corners.
For some reason, they had me eat at the junction of the two tables, and when I set my filled plate down, it went through the hidden gap, hit the floor, and broke. My mother fussed at me for being careless. I ran to the kitchen crying. My sweet grandfather came in there and whispered to me, “I never liked that old plate, anyway.”
I was fine then. I have remembered his kindness to me all my life. This was the basis for my strong belief – people are more important than things.
“Chasing My Thoughts”
By Gaye Hoots
My thoughts tumble like a kaleidoscope
They dance, they swirl and whirl in circles.
I try to grasp one, but it twirls away.
Life changing decisions, a challenge to my mores,
Tangled with flotsam of literary quotes
Pieces of trash and lyrics of songs,
Dancing to their own tune, not mine.
They follow me from my bed and stir my coffee.
My life is changing, this much I know.
I hold my breath hoping they will slow,
Where did they come from,
Where did they go?
“Where did you come from,
Cotton –eyed Joe?”
“Because It Was You”
By Kevin F. Wishon
We met at the train station of life where so many people meet. You were doing your job, looking for a ticket to something better, and I was waiting for a train to take me in a new direction. Our experiences were so different, yet we had more in common than I ever imagined.
I probably shouldn’t have sent you that text, one evening in March, but I was genuinely concerned. I heard you had suffered a minor injury that day. You said you didn’t handle the sight of blood very well but for me not to worry. Then you bid me goodnight, and that was that, until May.
Next, you sent me a text and asked if I wanted to see a baseball game in the park. I hate watching baseball, so, I said yes because it was with you. The thrill of driving your convertible with the top down through the city on that warm, spring evening was unforgettable. I don’t remember much about the game, just long enjoyable conversations.
Another night, it was beer and pizza at your favorite place, and I didn’t even like craft beer. However, the pizza was incredible and the conversations even better. Your stories about growing up in Europe were so fascinating; imagine my surprise when I learned we shared many common interests. The way you put your bare feet up on the dash of my car as you chatted away blew my mind.
Next, it was ice cream under the awning while it rained. It must have been good because we talked about the passing of your dad and you cried. Embarrassed, you asked if I wanted to talk about every depressing detail of your life, and I said yes because it was you. At this moment, I saw the person you never shared with others.
Then, your ticket came in, just as we were getting comfortable with each other, and you started to wear your hair straight for me. Our conversations became cold and your departure quick. You said we don’t want to make this any more painful than it already is. Therefore, I left a farewell gift by your door and walked away. I did it, despite the regrets, because it was you, and we had more in common than I ever imagined.