Gnawing Nervousness … #shortyaward #twitter #atoz

Cheers to all those in NYC waiting on the edge of their seat to hear their name called at the Twitter Shorty Awards.

One Stop Poetry - 2011 winner in arts
One Stop Poetry – 2011 winner in arts

It was crazy. One Stop Poetry was a “little blog” on Blogger. Four of us created this community. That then grew on Twitter. This group for poets, then writers and artists, got huge overnight. A team of  8 people (Adam Dustus, Pete Marshall, Brian Miller, Leslie Moon, Gay Cannon, Claudia Schoenfeld, Jessica Kristie, Chris Galford) who never met, got the notice in March 2011 – “You are going to New York. You are selected as one of the six finalists for the Twitter Shorty Award.” My heart soared, my stomach sank. It was too much to hope for  considering we had just started in July.  As I got out of the limo in Times Square, I saw the smiling faces of the people I considered friends and colleagues standing around dressed to the nines. I shook my head the illusion vanished, but i could feel the thousand or more were with us.  I opened my eyes looking for Brian Miller and Adam Dustus wishing that Pete Marshall, our other founder, could have made it across the pond.

“It’s here. It’s now. I am really walking into the auditorium at Times Square.”

It’s not hard for me to imagine things, but this was one of those magical, real moments when they call your name and you’re actually awake. They were calling ours, “One Stop Poetry.”  There was so much chaos they couldn’t get me to the front of the auditorium in time to join my friends and accept the award. It didn’t matter we (each member of the community) were (virtually) standing at the podium as a collective accepting the award.

We tweeted to our supporters “We Won the Twitter Shorty Award for Arts” That tweet circled the globe to poets, writers, and artists.  Each of those folks were part of this. It was a moment to celebrate with them.

***

After the awards, I met some other entrepreneurial types who had worked hard to get recognized, and I met a few who obviously stood out in the celebrity arena. Today, I read the first tweets I sent after our name had been called and felt the same pride and excitement. One Stop Poetry had done what we had sought out to do which was creating a community and giving a voice to the poet/writer even if he or she was in the beginning stages of his/her writing journey.

To you who are waiting on the edge of your heels to find out who will be the recipient of tonight’s award – enjoy the moment and celebrate anticipation’s finest moment.

“And the winner is…”

ospshorty

Livestream from the ceremony

A2Z-2013-BADGE-001Small_zps669396f9 (1)

Nautilus

What Can I Do??? #homeless #non-fiction #relief

There has to be a way to help others who have nothing. Homelessness isn’t a disease it is where many of us might be if we lost our job tomorrow

I can not sit by

doing nothing

my friend she needs help

and the  wee one too

living in a shelter

well they did

the count down has begun

another woman takes her number

next in line for a few weeks

it’s a rotating door you see

more needs than people to help

not enough numbers

for those in line

more children with nothing

no unspoken for coats

as winter ensues

I too have no job

I have been offered a roof

a place to lay my head

and not worry about tomorrow’s

TRIALS

except for the trial in my heart

What can I do for her????

Please tell me

SOON!!!!

This is not fiction – I just got an email from a person who is one of us. You have read her in blogs or tweeted her on Twitter she is without a thing.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/97335141@N00/4525219617/

Jupiter’s Pain by Guest Poet Kerry Ann Mansford #oneshotwednesday

Jupiter’s Pain

She must have been

uncreased once,

embraced inside

those glistening rings,

63 moons in place.

She must have been

a young Pain,

 once,

skipping down

a flower lit path,

spotless kneed,

soft palmed,

her unchartered globes

rambling rose kissed,

before gravel

plumed

and fell,

magma bound,

magnetic will,

cored

I cannot see my face

behind her mask.

She must have been

unbruised,

once,

the unpunched stomach,

delicate, as a new

porcelain bowl,

tiny fisted,

tracing veins

in

blossoming craters,

and

wondering

if a fairy’s

breezed song,

lured the

bees’ hearts,

before the spiders

webbed fissures,

across Europa’s

face

I cannot see a woman

when the god of war speaks.

She must have been

near silence,

once,

the unsharded word,

spell bound to the

soughing of new

leaves,

held by Io’s

Love,

that knew no

Hate,

until Prometheus’

rage,

scratched volcanic

thoughts,

inside a sulphur frost

I cannot see Pain

or trace my orbit in her path.

I must have been pierced,

once,

the punctured veil.

Now,

when pain hangs her

jewels,

I will not grasp,

I will walk

prism edges,

refracting,

polished claws clasp,

and her

dreams,

acidic,

will burn clouds

she must have held me,

once,

soft skulled,

an iridescent hope…


Please Welcome my friend Kerry (@Velvetinapurrs) to our poetry world. I met Kerry on Twitter  through OSP Chat and know that soon she will have a blog so she can share her work often.

Thanks to Creative Commons and the Lunar and Planetary Institute for this photo of Earth and the clouds of Jupiter

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lunarandplanetaryinstitute/4078049339

Pretty Lady #flashfiction #NYC

It was a big night

in the Big Apple ~

the city that never sleeps.

Dressed in their “starving poets” best

They anticipated:

standing before a crowd of illustrious people

what would they say?…

“Thank you” for recognition of a community of poets ~ artists…

….”this is for the One Stop Poetry community which we proudly represent.”

The non fiction is several of the One Stop Team will be converging on New York in less than 48 hours. The fiction is whether we will be chosen by the Twitter Academy or not. Stay tuned.

Join us for G-Man’s Friday Flash Fiction extravaganza – hosted by the man who purportedly Knows it all!!!

Star Chased Memories Guest Post by Steve Thompson #oneshotwednesday @dreamersteve_99


It is a privilege to have my friend Steve Thompson aka @dreamersteve_99 ( Twitter) on my blog for One Shot Wednesday. “Life is my inspiration.I am a newbie in poetland.Lover of my fellow poets on a journey with dreamers of like ambition humbled by others.”

Hopefully Steve will have a blog where you can read his wonderful poetry soon.

 

Enjoy!


Star chased Memories

by Steve Thompson

Her heart was shaped in a mysterious way,

Every inch a woman,

Yet with a strength uncommon,

Tears were her weapons

She knew time as though it was her brother,

And she spent it on life sparingly,

A little here a little there,

Until men fell at her feet

Every step she took was clothed in fashion,

From head to toe,

Immersed in wonder,

A sacred woman of the night!

She could get inside your skin,

And stretch your insides out,

Sending you home on your knees,

Crying for more

Indeed a memory I will chase forever

For her scent remains,

And my heart and body,

Still left in chains.

Photo credit to Creative Commons and Sudhamshuhttp://www.flickr.com/photos/sudhamshu/3240899911

Two Art Forms Joined because of Social Media Networking

One Stop Poetry – Where Poets, Writers and Artists Meet: One Shoot Photography Sunday Interview Spotlight: The Creators of Mosaïque Journey

After discovering each other’s artistry via Twiiter, their mutual artistic respect transformed into a beautiful merging of poetry & photography between “mutual tweeps.” Author/Blogger, Adam Dustus, interviews photographer @traceimages and poet @Jemfyr for One Stop Poetry’s Sunday photography feature.

How Far is Too Far (Cyber Harassment)

I am sickened to learn of a College student’s suicide because of the cruel actions of a fellow collegian. The collegian conveyed information via twitter and probably You Tube to show scandalous footage of this  fellow student. What is the motivator? Jealousy?  Was the fact that this young man had the potential to make it big as a musician the instigating factor? Whatever the motivation not only was the student scandalized but Twitter and other Social Media tools were used to make the scandal widespread.

Recently I was part of a situation in the writing/blogging community where several writers were harassed sexually and otherwise by a fellow writer. Several of the writers decided to leave the blogosphere because of the on-going insults and embarrassment. Though the perpetrator was advised by several people to stop blogging, she has not. Many of us have been so kind as to not reveal who the individual is to our large sphere of writers. After reading about a young man’s brilliant career being extinguished, I’m not sure we have acted wisely.

I appreciate feedback from others who may have dealt with a similar situation @moondustwriter

Just a Text

“Damn you,” she clenched her fists wanting to throw her iphone, where she read his last message, against the wall.

“Are you really going to just walk out of my life after a text?”

They had met on-line. Isn’t that where everyone meets these days? Many things in common: thrill seekers, loved life, hated commitment, music, romance oh yes the list went on.

They actually met because he had tweeted lines from a favorite song. She loved that song and RT’d it. Then she responded with a line from a favorite song of her own. He happened to RT her back. This went on for weeks. Once in a while they’d exchange a few words; not much more you can do on Twitter.  One day he put up words from a song that spoke to her personally. He knew it and she knew it. Now the air was swirling with innuendo.

He wasn’t the only guy she “talked” to. There was something about his words and love for music and life. They finally started a Facebook relationship. He saw pictures of her rather than a postage stamp avatar. “You are beautiful and so athletic” he commented. The remarks about her beauty were daily. They went past her beauty to what she was wearing. She looked for ways to turn him on in text.

They discussed places and people and things and sometimes they discussed their bodies and what they would do if they were in the same time and space. The wonderful thing they both knew – there was no commitment. How can you be committed to a blip on the other end of a computer chip. So they kept chatting; little by “chatted “with went by the wayside. They were sucked in to a relationship.

“Naw that can’t be he shouted one morning. I can’t be in love with her. I don’t even know her.”  But when he thought about it he knew more about her than his ex-wife. They talked about everything in great length. He knew where the scar from her first bicycle accident was she knew when he had his first crush. They got alot more personal – he knew moles, tender spots. he knew the word to type that would drive her crazy and she? All she had to so was whisper his name in text and his heart started racing.

He couldn’t do this. What if she wasn’t who she said she was? She could be a dog. But he realized that wouldn’t matter he loved her heart though he’d never held her body. He yearned for that woman at the end of his  computer and phone.

He sent her a text: “Sorry can’t talk anymore – no commitment rule.”

She hated the fact that she would tingle when she heard from him. Now the words she had always embraced shot an arrow to her heart.

The battle had just begun. In her mind, she contrived all sorts of hateful things to post about him on Facebook. She had an arsenal of  insults in 140 characters for twitter. Her blog would carry a series of  poems lined with sadness. Her launch date – the day they met.

But – she still hoped he would change his mind before that date. She would will her iphone to buzz or beep. No cooperation. She lost her desire to chat on Twitter and Facebook.  She dreaded running into him.

It was the countdown. Tonight at midnight she would launch her retaliatory effort at his heart. She was walking into her building after lunch. It had been a good week so far. She had stopped looking at the phone and the computer screen every second of the day.

She looked great in her business casual, attire. Just then a man walked up with a bouquet of pink roses. Grabbed her arm and said “I can’t do this without you. You have become my world.”

She stared at  the man who, until this moment, had always been at the end of her computer. He was sooo much better looking than his photos. She let him sweep her up in his arms. They lost track of time as they kissed, listened to each others voices, and kissed.

Back at her office she got a text:

“Have dinner with me for the rest of our lives….”

As she cleared her computer of her “War Room”, she mused “All is fair in love and war.”

Our prompt was War. Please go to The Tenth Daughter of Memory for more War Stories.

Blown Away (by people in the Social Media Networking Arena)

Amazing people in the Social Media Networking Arena:

Gotta say to all the Social Media movers and shakers out there – You are Amazing!!

When I started with the Networking craze – I was skeptical.

In the beginning:

I was wondering if I was spitting in the wind or worse talking to myself.  I was!

Twitter – at first I had five followers. For goodness sake why would anyone want to follow me?

Moondustwriter’s Blog- Are you kidding. I write but so do a million other people – and from what I have seen there is some incredible talent out there. Why those people like (Oh sorry won’t name names) aren’t on the NYT best sellers list has my mind in a tangle. The thought that people would come to my site and actually read a poem that I wrote or a blog that I concocted is inconceivable. And – they do it everyday!

Now it is possible that there is a room full of bots that sit all day and take hits on my site. So far no bot has made a comment though.

My opinion is worth___:

Lately I am having people ask me my opinion on writing, poems, does their outfit match (I’m serious).

You gotta be kidding – I guess not. There must be a reason all the seniors at the university asked me to proof their papers before submission. Why Doctors have asked me to review an article before submission. Must be my perfume – eau de editor.

The bottom line:

I am blown away by the talent, humility, and kindness of the people I interface with. Writers most but techis, artists, clowns (Claude, Luke and Derek I am not talking about you). All of them are trying to get their name out there but they are friendly and take the time to lend a hand even to a teenage kid just starting out.

So to all of you Social Networking friends – I applaud YOU!!!

Photo: Stonehenge – L. Moon

Icons – by Webtreats

Tweetin’ Donuts and Social Media

“Twitter represents a gold mine of marketing possibilities, but the vast majority of firms haven’t figured out how to transform those 140-character tweets into sales.” (or so the folks  at portfolio.com are saying)

Ok ~ I’ve been stressing that thousands of people aren’t buying my book (YET)! I realize I am not alone. Only 35% of Fortune 500 companies are on Twitter. Don’t they have marketeers to do their marketing magic?

For those of you looking for the answer on how to do this Twitter marketing thing successfully- look up to the Dunkin’ Donuts icon on the cyber skyline – they apparently are doing something right when it comes to marketing using Twitter.

My writer friend Claude Bouchard @CeeBee308 should be proud – he has more Twitter followers than Dunkin’ Donuts. How are book sales Claude? Maybe a donut would help.

I’m learning- my first giveaway will include not just a book but coffee and a doughnut.

Want to read more about Dunkin’ Donuts marketing on Twitter? Go to:

http://www.portfolio.com/companies-executives/2010/03/16/dunkin-donuts-tracking-twitter-in-effort-to-turn-tweets-into-sales/?ana=from_rss&utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+CompaniesAndExecutives+%28Companies+and+Executives%29

Thanks to Salim Virji for the photo

rivrvlogr

Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)

mrswrangler

Thanks for following a cowgirl on her crazy life journey.

Maria Michaela Poetry

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe

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