Moonlight Skate


Frozen Moon – photo by Wild Thing

Warm old truck
5 years old
“Where are we
going Daddy?”
“You’ll see.”

Rough road
Lots of bumps
She giggles
When she flies
Off her seat

Deep in the swamp
Large bag
On his shoulder
Short walk
Narrow path

Under moonlit sky
Snow glistens
On a pond
Blue square
Empty of snow

nature’s bench
Carefully stacked
Just offshore
Bonfire wood

In the bag
His old ones
New white
Double blade
Ones for her

Hand in hand
He guides her
Teaches her
Until sure
She can skate
On her own

Wild Thing ©2017

Written for Prompt 2.21
Writing Rebels




Fogged State – photo by Wild Thing

fish fry
everyone there
said yes
will end it
in a month
mom pushes
for a date
dad’s business
wiped out
mom fired
sis and brother
still in school
left college
found a job
my family
new house
had to be sold
broke mom’s heart
bought Christmas
boom box
for brother
hope chest
for sister
turned 20
told mom
no wedding
she said
cold feet
shake it off
money already spent
grasped my arm
it hurt
dad called out
now what
mom said
forgot to
take up the hem
kicked my
wedding dress
down the aisle
crying all the way

Wild Thing ©2017



Thinking of You – photos by Wild Thing

I choose you.
And I’ll choose you,
Over and over

Without pause,
Without doubt,

In a heartbeat.

I’ll keep
Choosing you.

The millennia

It will always be


Wild Thing ©January 10, 2017

Gossamer Castle


Somewhere – photo by Wild Thing

In the distance
Their eyes see
A peaceful place
Gossamer castle
Drifting in air

A haven
Where they live
By their rules
Love revealing
Their true beauty

Forged in light
At the source
As one … then
Split in two
Each of the other

Appearing fragile
It stands strong
Though gale force
Winds have blown
Love is its mortar

With trust
As its soul
Merely stir it
Still it stands

Gossamer castle
Shining beacon
Love … trust … peace
Doubts vanish
In their light

Wild Thing ©January 10, 2017

For a Moment

we were rebels
screaming no
to our parents’ life
exploring our world
roof down music loud
oh how happy

sat on car hoods
held hands
watched sunsets
in our eyes
percy’s warm
and tender love

dusk fall
dirt road trails
old abandoned house
weed walking
breath held in fright
season of the witch

snow fall night
empty parking lots
back bumper skiing
laughter caught in air
glittery eyelashes
made my heart sing

Wild Thing©2016

Arah . . .


Black Moon Night – photo by Wild Thing

today we grieve . . .
wear black
beat our chests . . .

keen “ARAHHHHH!”
let the pain out . . .

til we rise . . .
like the sun
stronger . . . wiser

knowing . . .
there is always
light in the darkness

Wild Thing ©2016

Apple Pie


8 – BALL Rack ’em Up! – photo by Wild Thing

I love to shoot pool. I shoot in several leagues and numerous tournaments at the end of the season: team, singles, doubles, 8-ball, 9-ball … you name the game and there are tournaments for it.

One year, my women’s team and I were in the Wisconsin State Team Tournament in the Dells at the Kalahari Resort. This was a 3 day tournament so we would need to stay the weekend. The Kalahari is a pretty swanky place and expensive; to save money, we reserved rooms at a Super 8 that was close by. We always brought food and drinks with us to help keep costs down as well.

One of our yearly rituals was for Sally to make her Apple Pie. It is a homemade liquor and I’m not sure what all is in it, but I know apple cider, cinnamon and Everclear (a grain alcohol that is 190 proof) is in it. She would make gallons for this weekend. It is great cold or hot and it tastes just like apple pie! You could drink it nonstop so easily; there was a caveat with it though, if you were not familiar with it, you would end up drunk before you knew what hit you.

Before the start of a tournament we always gathered for drink to talk strategy and just chill out and it helped to pump us up too. Just before we would leave, Sally got out the Apple Pie. We each lifted a glass in a silent toast then drank it down. Then with cues in their cases and well a stocked briefcase looking bag with our apple pie we went out the door.

Two matches later we were done shooting until noon the next day. We locked the cues up and kept the bag with the Apple Pie in it. It was party time! We table hopped from team to team that still had to play as start times were staggered. Men’s teams were there too, so we stopped at their tables as well. It was all part of the fun to stop and chat, cheer, flirt if it was called for and catch up on tournament gossip, (which men are far worse than women!) then move on to the next table of friends.

As we roamed around the tournament site, we decided that we would try to help our one teammate “get lucky”. She had complained that she had no boyfriend and was feeling a little, shall we say, “Affectionate”.  The acronym for the tournament was WAMO and we were calling it the WAMO Dating game. We made up the rules as we went along just nonsense; people laughed at our ridiculousness. Anyone who agreed to be in the game was given a drink of Apple Pie. This had to be done carefully it was against the rules to bring any kind of “carry in” to the tournament. To enforce this, there were rent-a-cops walking around to watch for it.

My team was known for walking up to various guys and grabbing them in the butt if we thought the butt was worthy of it. In our quest for game contestants as we were walking from table to table, we were checking out butts. If we found one worth grabbing, it was grabbed. Then of course, a shot of Apple Pie had to be drunk! When we stopped to sit and chat with a team, we’d yell “Team Drink!” and out came the Apple Pie.

I still smoked at this time and so did my teammate Sally. When we wanted to have a smoke, we had to go outside. This could take time as we would stop to talk to those coming in and there might be a butt that needed grabbing as well. At one point, Sally and I made our way outside to have a cigarette and while out there we visited with other players smoking. Out from the coat pockets came the flasks of Apple Pie to share with those there. We finished our smokes put them out and went back in filled with bonhomie and Apple Pie. All the while Sally and I talked and laughed our way back; we came up on a gentleman walking right in front of us. Sally elbows me thought it was a security guard; but it wasn’t! It was a Wisconsin State Patrolman. I could see what she couldn’t, the patch on his shoulder.

Before I knew what was happening she reached out and grabbed his right buttock! The side that his gun was on! As she’s reaching I could hear me yell “Noooo Sallyyyyyy don’tttttt!” in that kind of low, long, slow motion voice you hear in movies.  I reached to try and stop her but I was too late, her hand had a handful of his butt and she was holding on for all she was worth!

He whirled around to see two grown women with their hands out, one laughing hysterically and the other looking scared to death! All I could think was that we were off to jail! I’m sure he thought his gun was being stolen. I started to wonder what the penalty was for misdemeanor sexual assault of a police officer was. When she looked up and realized it wasn’t a security guard, she says “Oops, sorry officer!”

Interesting side fact about my friend Sally, she has dentures and rarely wears them. When she does, like this time, and is drunk, like this time, they tend to slip and sometimes partially come out of her mouth, like they did this time. So the word “officer” came out kind of something like “offither”, with some spittle that landed on his tie which she quickly tried to wipe off with one hand and with the other she took her teeth out and showed them to him and lisped “These fuckin’ things drive me crazy!” I thought “That’s it; we’re goin’ to the local pokey for sure!”

I started to talk and by that I mean sweet talk as fast as I could. I explained to him about our little game. How she thought he was a security guard, that she wasn’t trying to take his gun, she didn’t mean anything by it and on and on I went. I don’t know if it was anything I said, or if it was Sally standing there grinning at him toothless, but he finally smiled at us and said just be careful next time.  To which Sally said she would grab his left cheek next time! He roared and walked away. I stood there shocked expression on my face then just cracked up laughing! She popped her teeth back in her mouth, smiled at me and I laughed even harder.

It all started with Apple Pie.

Wild Thing©2016


The 4-Mile


The 4 Mile – photo by Wild Thing

One of the things I can say about my life is that I have never shied away from a new experience. I’m always up for expanding my horizons. This adventuresome spirit has to say the least, gotten me into trouble at times. I often deny this tendency only for form’s sake while laughing the entire time! One time in particular comes to mind.

Back in the very early days of my marriage, both my husband and I bartended at the local bar in addition to our full time day jobs; we had just bought an old farmhouse and the extra income was to pay for the remodeling it so desperately needed. It was only on the weekends and once in a while the occasional weeknight.

One particularly dreary Friday night in the middle of winter, my husband was bartending. There were only 2 customers in the bar, a friend of ours and me. The three of us were talking about this and that. Our friend and I were trying to decide what to do. There was no pool table in the bar, it was too small and there were no other activities like darts, etc.

We fell into companionable silence, then I perked up and with mischief in my eyes, I said, “Why don’t we go to the 4-mile!?” Now before I go further, I should explain that the 4-Mile was a Gentlemen’s Club. The ladies there stripped completely naked … and it had been in business in our little town for many years.

Our friend laughed and said “Ok.” but my husband said “NO WAY!” Of course I asked why not, I had never been to a strip bar before and I thought it would be a great thing to do on a boring night. Besides, the three of us had done many things together that were firsts for all of us. Getting our first tattoos being one. (Another one of my ideas which come to think of it, a lot of our firsts usually are.)

He was firm though and said, “The only reason I say no is because I can’t go with the two of you.” Our friend laughed and asked him if he didn’t trust us. My husband looked at us and said, “No, I don’t. You two need me with to keep you out of trouble.” This was ridiculous in my opinion and I said so and our friend agreed.  My husband wasn’t having any of it. “Uh uh… first, you,” and he points to me, “will make some smart ass comment and the next thing I know you,” and he points to our friend, “will get into a fight defending her, and the next thing I know, I’m getting a call from the county jail to come get your sorry asses! So no … you’re not going to the 4-Mile!”

Well … fast-forward 3 years later. The three of us were on our way to a nearby town’s annual city celebration. You know the kind they have in the summer, parade, fireworks, carnival, beer tent with entertainment. We had just left when we weren’t but a fourth of a mile down the road, when it began to pour. We were on the motorcycles and we had to get off the highway. We were not dressed for riding in a torrential downpour.

If you haven’t guessed by now, we had to pull into the 4-mile; it was a fourth mile down from where we lived, hence its name. I was delighted! Finally I was going to get to go to a strip bar. So we walk in dripping wet, our leather soaked and heavy. At the bar we ordered our drinks. I was appalled to find out I had to pay $5.00 for a Diet Coke!!!! Please don’t say, well that’s not too bad, it’s a strip club after all. This was in Wisconsin … in the 80’s! We don’t pay $5.00 for a mixed drink today even in a regular bar! $3.50 is the going rate!

As I had promised right before walking in that I would be good, (to guess who under the threat of being made to sit under awning outside) I said nothing. We turned around on our stools to watch the show. My husband was on my right side, our friend on my left. Did I mention that the three of us practically did everything together in those days? If I didn’t, my apologies, we practically did everything together in those days.

The girl on stage got naked to some music and I was more interested in watching the men and their behavior, which was amusing to say the least. Some I knew and many I didn’t know. When the music was done, she was done and left the stage.

The next girl came on the stage, wiped down the pole with some sort of spray and a white towel, put them off to the side and then took her place by the pole. She nodded to another girl off to the side. Music started and she began to dance.

Now, I thought perhaps she would be different from the girl before her, nope she did the exact same dance moves as the one before her. I thought it was odd that she didn’t do something different, something to get more tips, then I saw that the men gave her just as many tips as the girl before her. I realized that men really didn’t care about what the girls were doing so much as what the girls were showing them.

I chuckled to myself and continued to observe. Being as good as good can be.

It wasn’t long, that a girl came up to my husband and asked him for a dollar. (Quick note here, the girls ask the customers for dollars for the jukebox so they have music to dance to. Would have been nice to have been told that ahead of time don’t you think?) She had a wad of dollars in her hand and as I watched him dig a dollar bill out of his pocket, I politely, and I swear it was politely, asked, “Why are you asking him for a dollar, when you already have a handful?”

Her head whipped around and she gives me the once over and then with the dirtiest of looks says to me “Shut the fuck up you biker slut!” Now, I know I promised to be good, but really, what would you do? I of course was not going to take that insult sitting down.

I stood up and looked her in the eye and said, “What did you call me you little whore?” (She was like 4’8” and weighed 89 pounds so even in her platforms at 5’6” we were eye to eye.)

Well … you can imagine what happened then. She had a boyfriend there so he got involved calling me the not very nice “C” word for which he received a broken nose from our friend and before you know it, it was an all out bar room brawl. The one bouncer grabbed our friend and me by our collars and dragged us to the door. My husband followed behind yelling, “I’ll get them out, let go of them!”

After the door slammed shut, we stood blinking in the daylight it had stopped raining. My husband stood looking at the two of us and said “See! I told you two what would happen if you two went to a strip bar!”

I really hate when he’s right.

Being as Good as Good Can Be

** Special Note: A  year ago on September 1st, my dear friend Bea passed. I have written the following in remembrance of her. If you would like to see my personal tribute to her you can view it at my youtube channel: photos by Wild Thing on YouTube Thank you … **

You told me
Do not grieve
Or cry
And sent Orbie
To help
Still I grieved
And I cried

I did for others
All I could
For their grief
You thought
No one
Would notice
You were gone
They did

Time passed
Soon all went on
Then I felt it
The loss
Pain, loneliness
I needed you
You weren’t there

I’ve done my best
This past year
Have felt you
Heard you
Your visits
So well timed

The future
Lies ahead
I feel you here
By my side
And I’m okay
Being as good
As good can be

Wild Thing ©2016

12 For a Day

600 July  (24)

Outgrown – photo by Wild Thing

This morning
I put braids in my hair
One on each side
As I did when 12
Not sure why
I just did

I got the mail
Avoiding cracks
Didn’t want to break
My mother’s back
She passed away
Nine years ago
But who’s counting

At lunch
I challenged
Last one to
Finish their milk
Is a rotten egg!
Does it count …
If you’re alone

In my fort
A blanket draped
Between two chairs
I curled up
Sharing my secrets
With my cat
Until I fell asleep
The cat
Thinks I’m crazy

I didn’t eat
My vegetables
And at bath time
Tried styling my
Soapy hair
Ala Pippi Longstocking
Didn’t work at 12
Didn’t work now

In bed
Snuggled deep
Peering out the window
Wish I may
Wish I might
Have the wish
I wish tonight
I know it won’t
Even so … happily
I tuck myself in

It wasn’t too bad
Being 12 again
For a day

Wild Thing ©2016