Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “mistakes”

Life Does Not Compute

There is no back button on life,
no control alt delete.
And hard boots are just hard boots,
not do-overs.
Control X won’t erase mistakes
and control Y won’t bring back what’s been lost
and the worms will get us all eventually.


# 5

The Fine Line

You start in the corners,
scooping out detritus.
Poke, poke, poke the straws in the corners
to loosen the greebles and bits.

Then the long swing to sweep it all into
the middle of the floor;
the very middle of the floor.
but the litter of dust bunnies won’t lie still.
First this way, then that, they overshoot the molehill,
jumbling, tumbling in the broom breeze.

Now lay down the dustpan flat,
press it hard against the floor,
scoot the bunnies and greebles with a swift swat.

But after sliding them all into the trash bin you turn
and see it.
The line of dirt.
The fine line of dirt the dustpan left behind,
pointing at you accusingly.

Again you sweep.
The line becomes finer.
Now sweep in the opposite direction.
The line becomes finer yet and points towards the broom closet.
Resignation settles with the dust.
Nature abhors a vacuum.
So does a fine line of dirt.


This was a challenge from my friend Margo. There you go Margo!

Proofing on Paper

Good Grief! I thought I’d proofed my book “Falling Awake” very thoroughly before I printed out a copy!

To make a long story short – I’m on the third go ’round and still finding dumb typos! Anyone who thinks they can do all their proofing on screen is sorely mistaken. It’s as though I had never heard of punctuation!  I, the ‘grammar hall monitor’ of Facebook, making bonehead mistakes all through the book!

This will, hopefully, be the last go through – then I’ll send it to the ultimate proof reader (my hubby, Bill) who will, indubitably, find the last of my sins against the English language, and finally we will publish. Sigh…

For all those out there who wanted a copy of the book, hang on, it’s comin’!

My Mistake

I don’t dwell on my mistakes but they do live quite close by
and we get together often though we don’t see eye to eye.
And I tell them how they should be and they laugh at me and claim
I should go look in the mirror if I want someone to blame.

And they always come to visit at an inconvenient time
my pennance and my poison and my sentence for my crime
of trying something different and stumbling and falling
of trying to discover my vocation, my true calling.

And I’ve tried to move away but they follow me. I guess
they have a built in radar for a forwarding address.
I suppose I’ll have to learn to get along with them some day
They’re my oldest, closest friends and they just won’t go away.



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