Terrorist Tumbleweeds Attack!

They came out of the south, beginning their assault on the senses at mid-

A brush with death!

A brush with death!

morning. The wailing of the wind called thousands of them into action. Tumbleweeds folks! Russian thistles that were brought into this land of high desert by immigrants crossing the plains in a past century.

They came in all sizes, as small as grapefruits, as big as bowling balls, basketballs, and beach balls. They rolled relentlessly, rapidly, and recklessly, and in a riotous manner, leaping, flying, furiously throwing themselves at anything and anyone in their paths.

Dust and sand accompanied them, thrown up in clouds dense enough to block out one’s vision of the surrounding mountains, slamming into homes, vehicles, sheds, and fences of all kinds. A wooden post fence laid flat by the force of hundred of tumbleweeds pressing against it with the help of a wild, wailing wind. A steel-pipe fence strained under the same pressure by ten-fold that number, piled five-feet high and just as deep, appearing dense enough to be built of dry-stacked stones.

As I attempted to unhook the closed gate to my property, the gale pushing against the accumulated tumbleweeds on the other side fought my efforts to the point that I had to thrust my shoulder against the metal to release the tension on the chain. It came open and backed me up in my tracks, and then the onslaught of round, dried weeds began, rushing up against me threatening to engulf me. I fought against them folks, grabbing at them, suffering the sting of their prickly tentacles on the front and back of my hands and lower arms.

I regained my balance and my Kenpo karate training came to life.  I kicked them, side-kicks, spinning back-kicks, breaking some into pieces, and the pieces came at me, flying up in my face with evil intent. I changed direction with my kicks, and the wounded flew down wind, and I made my break for the pickup, slamming the door behind me, and shuddering from the ferocity of the attack.

Death had come calling on the high-mountain prairie, . . and was thwarted!

* * * *

Special thanks to photobucket.com

Poetic Psych-Quiz

Marilyn Monroe

Marilyn Monroe

Mother Teresa

Mother Teresa

by J. Kirkendall

Print and circle choices

Just for fun and discussion, Imagine some wild form of ‘reincarnation’ can happen.
After you die, would you rather come back as ‘A’ or ‘B’ ?


After you die, would you rather come back as . . .

Stephen King or Edgar Allen Poe?
Mother Teresa or Marilyn Monroe?

Bill Gates or Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart?
Martin Luther King, Jr. or Martha Stewart?

John F. Kennedy or Abraham Lincoln?
Andrew Jackson or William Jefferson Clinton?

Warren Beatty or Mahatma Ghandi?
Micheal Jordan or Mohammed Ali?

Joan of Arc or Rock Hudson?
Elvis Presley or Benjamin Franklin?

Angelina Jolie or Nelson Mandela?
Richard Ghere or the Dalai Llama?

Rabbi Harold Kushner or John the Baptist?
John Wilkes Booth or Judas Iscariat?


An Indian at the Little Bighorn or an Indian at Wounded Knee?
A child survivor of Hiroshima or a child of Nagasaki?


Discuss your choices with friends and/or, family and/or total strangers.
Make up your own poetic quiz questions and spring them on co-workers in verse.
If sleep and appetite disturbances develop, seek a mental health professional.

Answered Prayer Found

Carol Ann & Merlin, Tennessee Autumn

Carol Ann & Merlin, Tennessee Autumn

While sorting through the creative mess of my desk, I found something I wrote two years and eight months before Carol’s passing. I prayed this prayer in one form and another countless times. To all who contributed to this answered prayer. . .

my deepest gratitude.



Let children gather at her bedside asking questions of her life.

Let women who know who she is

tend to her every need

bring her nutritious foods

comfortable pillows

pick her favorite book

read to her aloud

as she rests her eyes

and safely falls asleep


Let spiritual brothers and sisters soothe her

waking from a childhood nightmare,

identify themselves and talk with her,

assuring her she is with someone she loves.


Help me

Help her

Help us all


Let there be no harm

Only kindness



(Phonetic Lakota blessing)