For a Second Time I am A Bagel (short story)

writing

 

I am still a bagel living my bagel life. I wake up and go to work. I come home and some night I hang out with friends.

While sharing conversation and company with my closest friend a question about pain came up. My friend did not ask about sorrow or the pain that came from hardship. His question was more simple. “Can bagels feel pain?” He pondered out loud to the group.

I was off put a little by the idea that the thought even arose in his head. Of course bagel felt pain. Every living thing can feel pain in one way or another. I being a bagel physical feels pain when some one pokes me, squeezes me too tightly in their hands and when they start to cut into my sides. Every time a knife comes near I must declare that I am still living and beg them not to cut me open.

I also feel great emotional pain. I feel this deep sorrow when I see my people sold as slaves to become someone’s breakfast. My heart breaks when I see the joy of a monster biting down on an unfortunate bagel. As that monster bites down on their bagel my soul crumbles as it can feel the mashing and breaking of a fellow bagel.

I am lost in my thoughts of pain as my friends continue to ponder and had almost come to the conclusion that bagel could not feel any type of pain. It was at the conversation’s end that I told them that bagels could feel pain.

The did not believe me and one of the others changed the topic before much more could be said. I did not mind the change in conversation, since I did not want to explain to people who should have known that bagels feel pain.

It appears that this whole “I am a bagel” is starting to be a thing within my group of friends.  I am not fighting it and actually may start a video series about being a bagel. I just need to make/ get a bagel puppet. I say get because it’s just going to be a bagel with olive eyes and pretzel sticks for legs and arms. The friends of a bagel may be difficult to do though.

We shall see what happens with this. I am enjoying writing the short stories at least.

I Am A Bagel

writing

I have weird friends and I hope this will make them smile.

I am a bagel. My eyes are black olive stuck by toothpicks into my bagel head. My tongue is cream cheese. My legs and arms are pretzels.

“How do you talk?” “How can you type?” “How can you write?” “Why do you talk so very much?” “What is life like for a bagel like you?” These are the questions that I am continuously asked as I walk around with herbs for my hair.

I was riding in the car talking, enjoying the conversation between me and my friends when out of the blue for no reason I could tell the one in the passenger seat yelled, “Shut up! You’re a bagel.”

I was quite shocked and did not know how to react. I indeed was a bagel, but that had not stopped me from talking before. “Why?” I quietly asking hoping that I would not anger him more.

He simply laughed and laughed. Soon he was able to speak. “You’re a talking bagel.” He spoke as if he did not realize for the years we were friends that I was bagel who could not only talk but also walk and live an almost normal life.

“Yes, and,” was my reply all the while the drive sat quiet listening in on the short conversation.

He was amused by the realization that a bagel was talking to him, “How do you talk?”

I could not help but smirk as I answered, “With my mouth and with my tongue.”

“You are a bagel, though.”

“Yes, and you are human.”

The driver finally chirped in and said, “Seriously just shut up. You’re a bagel.”

With that last statement I kept my mouth shut and allowed the humans to talk as I sat in the back simply being a bagel.

I Am A Dork (Almost an Acrostic)

poetry

I am a dork
And will not apologize.
Me being a dork is just who I am
And why would you apologize for being yourself?
Don’t you see
Only you can say who you are
Rarely can anyone else look inside you and find
Knitted answers of all of who you are

I am a dork
Always smiling
Making my life happy
And expressing my joys
Daring to live out who I am
Only holding back when fear creeps in, which
Rears its ugly head in crowded arenas
Kind of like a boss that I must beat.

I am a dork
Answering questions you may not ask
Matching characters together in my mind
Alone with my stories some times
Darting from one to the other like an
Owl looking for the best rotten to eat
Ranking each story into its own category
Kindly explaining to all that each is my favorite in its own way.

Yes, I am a dork and happy to be.

New Day (poem)

A few months ago I tried to challenge myself with writing every type of poetry. I think I wrote about 5 poems for that challenge. I just looked back and did not see them labeled as specific poems and it was over 6 months ago. That being said I decided to start this challenge again. This time I will tell you the type and the definition of it. I will be using ShadowPoetry.com  as my poetic dictionary and list.

The first poem is:

Abecedarian Poem
Each line builds with a successive letter in the alphabet. Also referred to as an alphabet poem

 

A new day starts

Bright is the sun

Cascading light into my room

Do you hear the birds

Echoing in the distance?

Far away are the sounds

Gathering of the morning life

Happy little far away birds

I hear them as the sun cascades light

Just as I wake in the morning.

Kindly they sing me awake

Lovingly the chirp in the distance

Morning has come and I am at peace

Night is no more

Opening my eyes I can see the daylight

Peace washes over me with the bright light of morning.

Quieting the distant birds in my ears

Raising my hope for the new day

Staying in bed

Tangled in blankets

Unwilling to move from my peaceful state.

Very hopeful that my peace will stay

Waiting for reality to set in

X-ing out the dreams in my head

Youth seems to leave me

Zeal for the morning drifts away as the birds fly.

Wow X was hard to do and I wish I woke up like that.