Sorrow of the Kelpie

QotD: What's in a Name?

nobody@vox.com(Inkshell) — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 12:06:30 -0500

How did you create your username for VOX? What influenced your decision?
Submitted by Strive2Be.

I had been using a computer for well over a decade before I finally went online. The main reason it took so long was that internet simply was not available for a very long time in my area. Well, not exactly. You needed to be able to afford long distance calling, which I could not.

So, when, in the 90's, a small computer store opened up and started internet service, I was one of the first to get online. It took a bit of time of exploring and browsing before I started to sign up for things. The first was a yahoo account. I tried to use my real name but the darned thing would not let me. Back then, I didn't know spaces were not acceptable. So, I thought of using one of my nicknames but of course, many people have the same nicknames. I didn't want a bunch of numbers attached to my name. I knew I would be stuck with this name for a very long time and numbering smacked to me, of impersonalization.

I considered my options and started playing with different ideas. I love to brainstorm. It took awhile before I hit upon the idea of combining a nickname with something I loved to do. Once the thought occurred the image of a conch shell filled with ink, filled my thoughts. After a few minutes of playing with word combinations I hit upon the idea and Inkshell came into being. I had no idea, until later that the name could be read another way... ink's hell.

;)

Now I tend to use the name for websites and blogs, like vox. People who know me, recognize it quickly. It also makes it easier for people, when they are using search engines, to find me. Granted, I prefer my real name and use it whenever possible but I keep inkshell around as it is also part of my online world.

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Personification: Buster

nobody@vox.com(Inkshell) — Sat, 09 Feb 2008 18:30:25 -0500

My name is Buster, my name is Buster. Buster is a great name, don't you like it? Do you like me? I know you like me, I like being liked and I like my owner. She calls me Buster. I like my name, I do. You can call me Buster, cause that is my name. Can I smell your butt?

I have a tail! See? Look, it's right over here. No, it's over here. Hold on, let me see if I can find it, I know it's around here somewhere. I have a tail, I have a tail, oh my... I am getting so dizzy. Need to sit a minute.

Ah, there is my tail! I knew it was here somewhere. You know, I like to go for walks. Walking is fun, especially at the park because I know one of these days, my owner will let me run without a leash and I will fly through the grass and dig out the sand lot.

I'm thirsty, be right back. Don't go anywhere, I want to know more about you. I like you, you are very nice. Let me get you some water...

Oh, you didn't want me to lick your face so you could taste the water? Well, my owner lets me lick her face so she can taste the water. It's pretty good water! Sure you don't want to taste it? I can bring you my bowl if you like... no?

oh, uhm... ok

Oh! OH!, the doorbell is ringing! The Doorbell is ringing! I can't reach the door! Let me look out the window, I want to open the door! Just open the door already! Open the door! Yes! Yes!

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Dragon

nobody@vox.com(Inkshell) — Thu, 07 Feb 2008 21:03:26 -0500

Lizard                    snake
reptilian                  bird
of world myth           legend
constant memories      engulfing
the elephant           fire or ice
purging                  old and new
leaving seeds         charcoaled dust
to grow beyond         eons sleep
awaking hungry       thoughts
within the constancy      of self

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El Nino

nobody@vox.com(Inkshell) — Thu, 07 Feb 2008 20:59:35 -0500

menstruating cycles
    sticky lava blood
    hot currents   pulsing desire
clouds swabbing compresses
    about peaks and valleys
    flooding plains and rivers
    cooling the fever heat

forget sunsets
    indian summers
    lush growth
don't blame the little boy
    for perpetuating weather

just give the world some ibuprofen
and wait for the pms to end

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Need a title...

nobody@vox.com(Inkshell) — Thu, 07 Feb 2008 20:54:44 -0500

I titled this "Aboriginal" but never really liked that, so if you think of a good title, place it in the comments.

Bardic voices sing the story
of the story you began
traveling minstrels
make wiles and sinew
give flesh to bones
and so it goes

Shamans speak the ancient story
passed through veils
of smoke and fire
of the way
the ways of morning
dawns beginning and its end

passed by lips
are hist'ries vision
Gods of land
the sea and air
fabled now
they teach their lessons
of the story you began

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Personification: Midnight Sapphire

nobody@vox.com(Inkshell) — Thu, 07 Feb 2008 20:45:52 -0500

Blending into the shadows, I prowl the night. Like the stars in the sky, I look down upon the world from above.

When I am outside, the stars guide me to places where the moon can not be seen. There, I wait patiently for my prey.

Leaping from a balcony, my quarry is unprepared but I like to play with my food first, so I let it go. If it gain my respect, I will let it go but sooner or later, I will come back and try again. My prey can be small and fleet of foot or or wing, I look for the challenge.

I am the Queen of my domain, even those who live in houses know this. They have built special places for my comfort and ease. They please me, so I stay with them. One of those special places they built for me is on the window overlooking the street. The sill is deep and on one side, they placed a pillow so I can recline in comfort. It is the perfect place to survey my world and make sure I know where my subjects are.

I have heard them from time to time, as they speak with others, that they love to see me watching them. They say my sapphire eyes peep out of the darkness and look like stars. This satisfies me.

To show my appreciation I will allow them to pet me. Occasionally I will visit sleep in their beds with them, so that when they wake, they know I am well pleased. This seems to make them happy, so they offer me precious morsels of catnip and a toy or two.

Ah, I see one is returning home as we speak. I shall go to her and walk between her legs, so she knows I am aware of her return.

I am the Midnight Sapphire.

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See, that little chipmunk, over by the pine tree?

nobody@vox.com(Inkshell) — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 09:10:50 -0500

Yeh, I know he isn't all that big but he sure can do amazing things. He reminds me of the squirrel in the movie "Ice Age". You know the one, he manages to get into some mighty fine messes yet at the end of the day, he is the hero who still doesn't get the nut.

Course, rodents have evolved since then. This chipmunk usually gets what he is after but the rest of it? At least one time, he saved a life. Honest, he did it without guile and without any regard for his own safety.

Then again, I have noticed that chipmunks often forget certain things are dangerous to be near. For that matter, I noticed that turkeys also tend to forget that as well. More about turkeys later, for now, let's get back to the chipmunk.

Every year, he scurries about and looks for goodies to add to his hoard. At least I think it is a he, though it could just as easily be a she... For the sake of keeping myself from confusion, he shall remain a he.

Always in a rush, except for when the rascal is watching a bird in the air or another chipmunk, this little one moves deftly through the yard. Making scratching and scritching noises with his claws and weird sucking, sniffing noises as he tests nuts and other finds.

One day while he was moving about, doing his usual thing, a neighbor was getting into her car. She was getting ready for a very busy day, the type you like to avoid as you are doing things you can't stand doing. She had that harried look people often have as she looked about her car and rifled through her purse. No doubt, she was making sure
she had everything she needed for the day.

Meanwhile, our heroic chipmunk had his eye out for a hawk he had spied in the air. The hawk had been gliding about for a good ten minutes or so and poor chipmunk was antsy. Can't say I blamed him, hawks find chipmunks rather tasty, when they catch the little rodents.

Neighbor number two was working on her garden and was mumbling as she tried to refill her bird feeder but all she was doing was spreading seed all over the lawn. Now, you know chipmunks, this little tyke was really torn. On one hand he had a circling hawk to watch as it watched him and on the other, he was salvitating over the banquet spread out
just two driveways away.

Now, while all this was going on, a boy had just woke up and realized he was late for school, so he grabbed his gear and jumped onto his bike, pedaling as fast as his feet could pump.

Neighbor number two, gave up in disgust, left the bird seeder and walked into her house. Neighbor number one, revved up her car and moved the stick to drive. The boy came tearing through driveway two and the chipmunk decided to go for the seeds, just as the hawk dived.

Chipmunk ran up the fence and jumped, landing on the hood of the car startling the driver. She hit her breaks, just as the Hawk came tearing through the space where the chipmunk had been. The boy raced by the driveway, just as the woman hit her brakes and stopped, mere inches from the boy. The chipmunk, unaware of the havoc, dived into
neighbor twos garden and hid under a bench as he greedily grabbed the seeds.

Hawk, unable to catch his prey, glided to an oak and looked about for fresh meat. The boy, continued on his way to school as the neighbor in the car, took huge gulps of air and tried to calm down as she realized she almost hit a child. Neighbor number two, hearing the noise, rushed out of her house and looked about. Seeing nothing wrong, she noticed a hawk in the nearby oak tree and with her broom, shooed it away from her garden.

Only the boy and chipmunk were unaware of the havoc and near misses.

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Committing Poetry

nobody@vox.com(Inkshell) — Sun, 20 Jan 2008 11:37:40 -0500

I will not plead but affirm the fact
that words of allusion and illusion,
of metaphor and fact, have flowed
from mind to pen.

Guilty of thought, showing life's
individualistic yet
universal nature.

Condemn me if you will,
words will go on, mine or others.
Telling of shadows,
cloaked truths,passed by
lips or slips of paper,
finding their own amnesty.

Circa 1998

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Leaves

nobody@vox.com(Inkshell) — Sun, 20 Jan 2008 11:29:10 -0500

silver foiled bottoms
moon the darkening sky
mocking clouds to angry tears
laughing for the rain

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Exercises in three lines

nobody@vox.com(Inkshell) — Sun, 20 Jan 2008 11:27:20 -0500

morning glory stretch
tendrils lift rise
twining seasons bloom

Green miner
pick-roots creep
gardens of grass

heavy headed peonies
petal-heavy bend
defy gravity

verbena myrtle
summer runners race
trailing flowers in their wake

Circa 1998

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