Your prompt this week is
CHARGE
The first thought that comes to mind for me in relation to this week’s prompt word is cost – a fee for something. It might be a bill or something nicer such as admission to a museum or theatre. You can also be in charge of something – the country for example. There is also a legal element to it – you can be charged for a crime you did or didn’t commit. Or you could make a statement about someone – say a neighbour and charge them with being too noisy! One meaning of the word I’m sure many of you can relate to is rushing about – charging about all over the place. And, of course, we wouldn’t manage without putting our phones and laptops on charge. What does this word mean to you?
Fact or fiction, prose or poetry, I would love to read your thoughts on this week’s prompt, but there’s no obligation to share your writing. Here is the work you shared on the last prompt ELEMENT/S.
I’ve never more happy than when I am reading a good book, it is when I am in my element, sitting on my recliner, listening to my audiobook, not feeling time slipping by.
I get lost in the pages, lost in the story, I am transported to another world.
For that time while I read, nothing else matters, I can forget my struggles, and forget life’s troubles.
It is my happy place, reading, and also writing, doing those two things brings me so much joy.
And here is a tanka about reading just because…
Pages whisper soft,
worlds unfold beneath my hands,
lantern light glimmers—
sorrows drift like autumn leaves,
joy gathers between the lines.
Discernment
An element of truth may be
so buried in the mud that we
see mud and think the mud we see
is truth when it is not.
How Does One Know?
how does one know
the worth of the self,
the shape of the soul,
the nature of life?
when the world unfurls
a smorgasbord of wonders—
stars and silence,
noise and nectar,
grief wrapped in golden light—
how does one choose
what to hold,
what to let pass like wind
through open hands?
which pieces of nature
call to the core—
the stillness of stone,
the hunger of fire,
the patience of trees,
or the wild pulse of storm?
how does one sift
through the banquet of becoming,
to find not the best,
but the truest?
Jim found an old car that needed lots of work. He hired a painter. He was in a jocular mood when he hired him and he removed the car to a warehouse to work on it wanting it out of the elements and the mechanic to be comfortable and do a great job. They started to dismantle it.
He increased the amount he would pay the mechanic to encourage him to work harder. He wore an old shirt of his with no collar, so it wouldn’t get in the way. He shredded some old shirts to make rags for clean up.
I was immediately reminded of the song The Elements by Tom Lehrer.
Tom Lehrer, who passed away this summer at the age of 97, was a comedian and singer, though to be honest like most male comedians, he couldn’t actually sing. Then again, neither can I, but I don’t try. I don’t care whether he could sing or not though, as his song lyrics were brilliant. The Elements isn’t nearly his best song.
I love his songs about current events. Though they were written in the 1960s, some still ring true, in a scary kind of way.
I honestly have been feeling more and more unsafe over the past year or so. I mean, Millennials like me were in our teens when the 9/11 terrorist attacks happened and the world (or rather I should say the West) hasn’t been at peace ever since. I mean, the world’s never been at peace, but in 1989, the West at least thought it had won. Not so. Now with Trump in office in the United States, I wonder who “the West” even are anymore. I, being in Europe, feel more and more like it’s not just Russia and China who might cause the next world war, but Alabama might as well.
I feel more and more scared when I use my mantra that everything will be okay in 2034. I know, I started this thing as a satirical take on the book 2034, which is about the next world war. I realize now that the authors of the book were actually quite serious, but a few years ago, I thought I could turn things around by saying everything will be okay. I don’t mean this to be blasphemous, but I honestly got the idea from the Bible. I mean, I remember when I was (pretending to be) a Christian, I at one point wrote that everything will be okay in 2021 and sort of hoped that Christ would return that year. He didn’t, and as a non-believer I doubt He will in 2034.
Of course, I try to hope that there won’t be a World War III in 2034 or ever. But if there will be, I hope whoever presses the button, will remember Tom Lehrer’s survival hymn.
I was useless at chemistry, and the other sciences at school, apart from Maths, which they say is a science. Guess it’s because I just couldn’t build up any enthusiasm for them.
Being in my element for music was a fair few years ago now, but I have the memories!
I surpassed myself with the element of surprise and arranging an anniversary party for my parents. I’d invited them up for Sunday lunch, but unbeknown to them there were a lot of other guests, including my Dad’s sisters and brother and their families as well as my own siblings. Dad was lost for words, and Mum reduced to tears. I’d made a rich fruit cake and my boss had iced it for with with sugar craft red carnations, my Mum’s favourite flower and Dad always gave her two dozen on their anniversary, except one year when he simply could not afford them.
There were 38 people in my semi, and the following morning, I was cooking breakfast for 15 for those who had stayed over rather than face a long journey home.
Elementary
Emotions are elements of life
Some are soft, pliable, moldable
Others shine brilliantly like diamonds
Which also gift strength and courage
Some emotions can can destroy
Like vinegar dissolving pearls.
Each being alive, a conglomerate
Of every experience; bits of sandstone
Emotions, just like rocks on a path
Can trip us up when we rush…
Too often we are unsure of of
When to shield sharpened obsidian
Lured by pyrite, ‘fools gold’
We forget our own true value
Once flint is chipped, like glass shards
It cannot be put back together…like
Emotions that have left one’s ego bruised – and
Yet like an opal, our faults make us who we are.
Four Elements
Earth
solid ground below
feeding and protecting roots
holding on to life
water
always moving on
never interrupting change
reflective mirror
air
Who’s the artist here?
Unknown Rothko, Mondrian?
No, just clear blue sky
Fire
nuclear fusion
supplying the energy
for a lover’s heart
Being in my element these days, and pardon me, but I find myself writing “these days” frequently. I guess it shows what element I’m really in – old! I don’t like to think it, but as I struggle to say a word I know, and will finally come to me in a few moments, I think, yup, old. And the older I get I feel more nostalgic for younger days, chasing my children in the park, and having family still alive, like my three older sisters. I get emotional too easily, an element I have been stuck with my entire life. I consider myself lucky to be able to blog and have my writings express what I hesitate to say out loud.
Who’s Your daddy?
In order for people seeking civil service jobs within the U.S. federal government, the application process was rooted in well-established merit principles designed to ensure a nonpartisan, competent workforce. The five elements in the application included (1) education relative to the position, (2) experience directly related to the position, (3) competencies, including knowledge, skills, and ability (KSAs) for the position, (4) examinations using structured interviews and written tests, and (5) professional references.
But that has changed. The Trump administration has quietly added four “short essay” questions for applicants to federal jobs. The questions focus on the Constitution, government efficiency, support for Trump’s executive orders and policy priorities, and personal work ethic.
Of these four questions, one is blatantly a loyalty pledge to Donald Trump. Two might marginally be interpreted to be politically oriented, and in my opinion, only one seems to be a reasonable question that an applicant for a nonpartisan civil service role might be asked.
But why don’t you decide? The added essay questions must each be answered in 200 words or less are:
1. Commitment to the Constitution — How has your commitment to the Constitution and the founding principles of the United States inspired you to pursue this role within the Federal government? Provide a concrete example from your professional, academic, or personal experience.
Interesting, since I doubt that Donald Trump has read the Constitution, given all of the clearly unconstitutional executive orders he’s issued and actions he’s taken!
2. Improving Government Efficiency — In this role, how would you use your skills and experience to improve government efficiency and effectiveness? Provide specific examples where you improved processes, reduced costs, or improved outcomes.
You mean like Elon Musk and his tech bros did by indiscriminately eviscersting many critical government agencies at Trump’s behest?
3. Advancing the President’s Executive Orders and Policy Priorities — How would you help advance the President’s Executive Orders and policy priorities in this role? Identify one or two relevant Executive Orders or policy initiatives that are significant to you, and explain how you would help implement them if hired.
Now this is clearly a KMA (Kiss My Ass) loyalty pledge to that thin-skinned, insecure, egomaniac Donald Trump, and asking such a question to an applicant for a nonpartisan civil service job is illegal.
4. Demonstrating a Strong Work Ethic — How has a strong work ethic contributed to your professional, academic, or personal achievements? Provide one or two specific examples, and explain how those qualities would enable you to serve effectively in this position.
This seems like it could be a fair question as long as potential hires aren’t evaluated on their willingness to grab co-workers by the crotch or to leave work early every Friday to go play a round of golf.
Well, on a personal note, all I can say is that I am happy that I am retired and don’t need to seek out a federal government job. Because I would definitely blow it with my answers to these four essay questions.
Elements of Story
Each myth, legend or fairytale
from “once upon” to “fare thee well”
shares some elements of story
be they sad, uplifting, gory.
Always a damsel in some distress—
Rumplestiltskin’s name to guess,
for straw once spun out into gold,
or another story to be told.
Too much sleep may be her curse,
ugly stepsisters, or worse.
Murder, treason, sloth and pox
were emptied from Pandora’s box.
These troubles spread from near to far,
(although, in fact, it was a jar.)
Zeus forgave Pandora’s shame
and the imp revealed his own strange name.
But the other women described above
were saved by cleverness or love.
Scheherazade escaped the hearse
with stories, legends, tales and verse.
Cinderella rose from hearth and ashes
and Sleeping Beauty opened lashes––
both maids saved by daring-do:
one by a kiss, one by a shoe.
So whatever might have been their fate:
loss of child or murderous mate,
wipe tears and fears away with laughter.
They all lived happily ever after.
Elements
Earth: the churning ground beneath the blades of the combine. The firm and fluffy quilt surrounding roots and mycelium, vibrations passing through that talk and transcribe the world. A smell rich, pungent, dying. From within, a single seed cracks open, a stem pushing through the surface. Life and death in the cycle of a phoenix.
Water: that douses the flames — not only those literal fires that destroy the physical, but to submerge oneself in water brings a quiet that you’ll find nowhere else, extinguishing the rising heat of stress and anger. It feeds life and transports us and our wares. The ocean, so vast that exploring space seemed like an easier option. A single drop, or a wide-running river, has the power to cut into stone and carve new pathways, yet can bring us unbreakable bliss.
Fire: so destructive, and yet so fragile and fleeting. A glorious dance of flames, a terrible force, but one that can be snuffed out with the rain. It is light in the dark, the master of shadows, an energy so ravenous that if left unchecked can consume whole forests. It holds no mercy, and yet, where would we be as a species without it?
Air: the breath in and out that keeps us alive. The howling wind that can transport a seed many miles, can rip apart homes, can cut grooves into cliffs and stone. A gentle summer breeze, so warming; a winter gale, so cutting. The cobwebs of the mind cannot hide from the wind — walk on the cliffs when it blows and find out. It is the voice of the planet, whooshing, whistling… roaring like an invisible beast set on a bloodlust. Listen.
Thus is the balance of the world. The elements are the blood, the mind, and the inner workings. They remind us to be humble and to trust that there is a way. No man has beaten them, no one ever will. They are known to all, but remain the great mystery. They are tools of whatever divine force watches over. Be at one with the four elements; respect them, believe them, trust them, and never take them for granted or deem them unworthy of your attention, for you will one day be buried in the ground.
I’ve had a similar prompt in the past (see one I made earlier at the bottom of my What Next post).
Once I’d re-read the earlier verse, I had trouble getting my mind around something different. However, in the spirit of writing to the prompt, here is a short poem. (Stories – even short ones – take me much longer).
There’s an element of optimism
in our walk today.
Perhaps my dog won’t chase the ducks,
and rain will stay away.
An element of hope that this time
we won’t lose his ball.
An element of bribery
will bring him “here” when called.
What treats or trials the elements
may have in store for me,
I’ll have no peace till he’s been walked,
that’s elementary.
Elements of a Whisper
he dances lightly nuzzling the sky,
escapes earth’s gravity, flies way up high
in balloons he finds his giggles,
voices squeak in cosmic ripples
at absolute cold he becomes liquid
he slips around edges, never restricted
flowing freely without friction,
an artist of quantum’s jurisdiction
an inert noble gas, doesn’t mingle, doesn’t bond,
just floats adorably, on and on and on
beneath the waves he whispers too
in heliox, divers breathe safe and true,
a helper in depths where nitrogen fails
he is a calm companion of watery tales
in nature’s periodic pages, a quiet guy
he laughs at chaos, see the atoms fly
i’m not talking about selenium or magnesium
or any other element with such tedium
i’m talking about our buoyant friend – mr helium!
Tin Roof
The rain was falling steadily outside, not a downpour, just a rhythmic patter. Jeff lay on the bed, enjoying the sound of rain falling on their tin roof. It was one of the best sounds in the world, he thought.
Ellen had started a fire in the fireplace and sat in her chair nearby, enjoying the warmth of the orange flames. She knew her husband was laying in the bedroom where the sound of the rain on the roof sounded best.
“Would you like some hot tea?” she called to Jeff, and he said he would love some. Ellen put the tea kettle on and pulled two cups out of the cupboard. “Some sliced tomatoes would be good, too,” she hinted.
Jeff came into the room and smiled. “Why don’t I just go out in the rain and pick us a couple?” he asked and Ellen laughed.
“If you don’t mind,” she said and Jeff hugged her and kissed her cheek.
“Anything for you, doll,” he said and then dashed out into the yard. The earth smelled musky with the rain, and he walked over the rich soil to pick two perfect tomatoes. Running back to the house, he stood on the porch and inhaled the fresh air, rich with the smells of the end of summer with hints of the fall to come. Jeff shook his head, and the drops of rain went flying. He felt so good, so fully present.
He laid the tomatoes on the counter like an offering and Ellen thought he looked twenty years younger, like the boy she had fallen in love with. She blushed and felt a rush of emotion for their shared years together, all the happiness she had known, the tender moments they had shared.
Jeff pulled out a knife, but Ellen put her hand on his and he set the knife down. She smiled at him, and he said, “Our tea will get cold,” in mock protest.
“Let it get cold. Right now I am thinking of something else that will warm up your heart,” she said and led him to the bedroom, where the sound of the rain on the tin roof echoed in such a beautiful way.
away but so close
sweet greens, bright reds, pretty pinks
I embrace them all
delight shines generously
long reflections poured inside
listening closely
I hear horizons’ blue chime
they speak of ourselves
forgetful sometimes we are
everything is always here
I see shine and shade
warm and coldness, near and far
wings flutter within
they rest against the window
dreams and memories entwined
sunsets, sunrises
smile at me mild from afar
earth, water, fire, air, ether
inner elements echo
pure essence ripples deep down
playful summer leaves
remind me of life’s rustle
autumn’s dappled light
gifting me its coziness
ethereal dialogue
away but so close
I hear horizons’ blue chime
wings flutter within
inner elements echo
ethereal dialogue
Fire!
There are four natural elements: air, wind, fire, and water. Individually they are fascinating. They can also be destructive and, when out of control, can wreak horror on humanity. Sometimes they combine forces, and the havoc and chaos scale up accordingly.
When I was a young girl, we lived on a small holding in an area called Honeydew. Our house was the original farmhouse for the area. It was old fashioned with a tall water tank and dark, creepy bathrooms. The property was surrounded on three sides by vacant land filled with long, golden veld filled with all sorts of fascinating insects and birds.
We moved to this property because my father wanted to farm. He’d always wanted to do some farming, and when this property became available at a good price, he seized the opportunity. His plan was to plough the out-of-control veld grass on our property in the early spring and plant courgettes (this is another story).
It was the beginning of winter when we moved into our new home. Winter in Johannesburg is dry. It doesn’t rain at all – not a drop, from approximately mid-April until mid-October, sometimes later. During this period, the veld grass dries out and becomes a very pretty fire hazard.
“Fire! Fire!” One hot, dusty late winter day, the shouts travelled from the workers complex up to the house. Mom and I were inside with the younger children when we heard the clamor. Outside we rushed and were confronted by a strong, smoke-laden wind. In the distance, a line of fire swept forward, aided by the wind. It was moving fast, much faster than I imagined fire could travel. I could hear the crackling as the fire consumed the dry grass.
In front of the house, was a lawn of short grass and then a fire break comprised of a few furrows Dad had ploughed before the wild grass started. To one side of the house stood a line of fir trees. These were as dry as tinder at this time of year. As we watched, the fire moved closer and closer. It was making big jumps and setting new patches of veld on fire as it came. The smoke became thicker and crept into the back of our throats as we stood aghast. It tickled and we all started to cough. Ash and bits of black settled on our clothing and hair.
Dad came running towards us, followed by the two male workmen.
“We’re going to have to wet the grass and beat the fire out with sacks,” Dad exclaimed. “Catherine, take the children into the house and stay there. Keep the windows shut to keep the smoke out. Robbie, you need to wet the sacks and pass them to the rest of us.”
During this short period, the fire had come much closer. The front running fires were nearly at the firebreak and two of the trees were starting to smolder.
I remember standing a few metres away from the firebreak next to a tin bath full of water, wetting sacks and handing them to the four adults. They ran up and down the firebreak, beating at the flames as they licked the short grass and tried to get a hold on the fir trees. The air was hot and acrid with smoke, and I was scared. My lungs hurt and my eyes stung.
The fire was winning, and the beaters were falling backwards. I could see Mom’s face, grey with ash and streaked with water as her eyes streamed smoke induced tears. Dad’s beard and hair were grey as if he’d suddenly aged.
Suddenly, the wind changed direction. The fire started moving in the opposite direction, trying to find new food to sustain its flames among the blackened clumps of smoldering veld grass and small bushes.
The changed wind saved our home that day and the fire, deprived of new material, died out, leaving a barren, smoking mess of burned earth. For days and days, ash and black bits crept under the doors and through windows foolishly opened.
rolling and bounding
young flames compete at long jump
which can leap furthest
***
Esther Chilton 
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