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Abstract

d over the phone like I was?</p><p id="da3a" type="7">How about this: Try to picture Ivanka, the object of her creepy father’s even creepier lust, punching a time clock! That will happen around the same time I start flying jets.</p><p id="709d">Maybe I’m being overly sensitive. I mean, if I could make my own sea salt while basking under the Mediterranean sun, wouldn’t I bleat about it later? Shit, no. I would not.</p><p id="1c29">So you know, the column’s focus was on scent and how it evokes particular memories. Here is the passage that set me off:</p><p id="d741"><i>When I was in Spain this summer, we sun-dried our own sea salt in Majorca, then went to a little shop near where we ate dinner to buy flor de sal harvested from the same Ses Salines salt flats. When I popped open the can — later back at home, my kids shouted, “it smells like Majorca!”</i></p><p id="c3f4">“Gee, kids! How cool is that? Know what? Get outta here”</p><p id="d35c">For those of us who don’t vacation in Majora, <i>flor de sal</i> means Salt Flower. Now, is it me, or is this type of self-important strutting gag-worthy?</p><p id="0c73">I’m not so offended by the message as much as I am by the way it was conveyed. As if the messenger had no clue of the disparity around her and the reality that people are struggling to make ends meet, for God’s sake. Struggling to feed themselves and their families. Working for minimum wage.</p><p id="051d">I get that this magazine is about beauty, not our country’s economy but all I can say is, the salaries must be pretty damned good.</p><p id="22b4">We, as writers, understand that words are powerful and the <i>way</i> in which we say things is as important, or maybe more so, as <i>what</i> we’re putting out into the world. I’ve learned this particular lesson the hard way. More than once.</p><p id="d5bd">Admittedly, I’m particularly sensitive in that I haven’t received an actual paycheck in almost two years. And I’m better than that. Much better, yet I can’t seem to catch a break. So, where someone else might read the editorial and think of it as “aspirational,” I think, “WTF?” Just as I do when I see TV commercials touting luxury automobiles as holiday gifts. What world are we living in?</p><p id="8d58">This is what doesn’t compute: While the editor raves about her kids raving about Majorca, there are other, less privileged children starving in this country. Their parents would love to afford a bus ticket, let alone a first-class airline ticket to Spain.</p><p id="f2ee">A little empathy for others, folks. That’s all I’m asking.</p><p id="184a">According to <i>nokidhungry.org</i>, in the United States, one in seven children lives with hungry. The bigger picture: According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), more than eleven hundred children in our country live in “food insecure homes,” which means the family members don’t get enough to eat in order to live in a manner that’s deemed “healthy.”</p><p id="7845">Maybe the editor should set her cannister of DIY sea salt aside and chew on these stats:</p><p id="1300"><b>Over 4.5 million U.S. kids live in food deserts and lack access to grocery stores with fresh fruits and vegetables.</b></p><p id="742e"><b>On average, children in rural areas are more likely to experience food insecurity and lack access to quality health services.</b></p><p id="7f6a"><b>Close to 1 in 3 American children are overweight or obese, and obesity in children has more than tripled over the past 35 years, putting children at higher risk for serious, even life-threatening health problems.</b></p><p id="a02e"><b>In communities where Save the Children works, an average of 59 percent of children do not have access to fresh, healthy foods; in some areas, it’s as much as 98 percent.</b></p><p id="bc2d">Here’s more self-satisfied bunk from the editorial:</p><p id="c1b6"><i>In (country), last summer, my daughter and I treated ourselves one afternoon to tea at the (uber-luxe) hotel. Now, the scent of not only jasmine tea but also jasmine fragrances brings me half a world away to that fancy dining room, nibbling on tiny sandwiches

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and cakes.</i></p><p id="0408">Again, maybe I’m being unfair and bristly. But the manner in which this was written is offensive, in my humble opinion. Plus, the older I get, the less idiocy I can tolerate.</p><p id="712b">Maybe if she’d included some type of giveaway to the first fifty readers who wrote back via email, describing their favorite scents and what they evoked for them. Jasmine fragrance oil could be the giveaway. I don’t know.</p><p id="7d81">Perhaps this editor should stick to writing about lip conditioners and designer perfumes and the wonders of glycolic acid. Meanwhile, if the craving for a “tiny cake” should come upon her, she could always shove a Twinkie up her bum.</p><p id="444c">I’d like to thank <a href="undefined">Helen Cassidy Page</a> for her input here. She gave me the virtual slap upside the head that I needed. But, sweetly.</p><p id="6d7e"><i>Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.</i></p><p id="2284">As always, I appreciate your reading. If you’re up for more:</p><div id="974d" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/haiku-how-to-51d0685c1ad6"> <div> <div> <h2>Haiku How-To</h2> <div><h3>A primer for the sexually inquisitive.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*yQwyx3SGkE3-oZlWW1dC9g.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="654f" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/did-i-fail-my-mother-3323d4907780"> <div> <div> <h2>Did I Fail My Mother?</h2> <div><h3>All the things I should have said, and didn’t.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*IBboE8lKu9O0Q4Ga0aEGhQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="9067" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-hot-women-of-medium-c66515ba6bbe"> <div> <div> <h2>The Hot Women of Medium</h2> <div><h3>Smart, funny, gutsy and SMOKIN’!</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*sUDy3LYDjjZKQqXsMfyptQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="1a63" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/ive-never-received-1k-claps-b1dd0d9c56b9"> <div> <div> <h2>I’ve Never Received 1K Claps</h2> <div><h3>Wounded…and wondering.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*zAfXUminR_ELCNKW8Ppsgw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="11fc" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/its-official-i-m-an-a-hole-347624d73cd7"> <div> <div> <h2>It’s Official: I’m an A-Hole</h2> <div><h3>“Medium Madness” has me by the throat.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*r4v7h4lCPyj7liblwp-GNQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Poetry Review Of My Fellow Writers’ Poems: A Collaboration Project (Part I)

A Poetry project with fellow writers Suntonu Bhadra Trista Ainsworth Keno Ogbo

Photo by Vasundhara Srinivas on Unsplash

Suntonu Bhadra — the master mind of this collaboration project, I would rather call it a collaboration challenge.

One jockey — Suntonu Bhadra Three horses — Keno Ogbo, Trista Ainsworth and the crazy me.

Three divergent creative minds, from three different nations, their three distinct creations, And, one reviewer — as lazy as a sloth hanging upside down the tree, Yeah! that’s me.

How to Live in Joy

Day 20: How a treat of local strawberries brought back precious memories

medium.com

This poem *Box Of Strawberries*is part of a 30 day journey I am taking on how to live in joy in our home during lock-down here in the state of Oregon. I encourage other writers to find joy in their homes as well and share that joy with us.

— Trista Ainsworth

Trista Ainsworth’s box of scarlet red strawberries fresh and juicy attempts to enter my house by tempting my sensitive taste buds,

This treat brings memories Grandma and Grandpa — Trista Ainsworth

The scarlet red queen crowned in green keeps Trista’s memories of her grandparents, their joyful gatherings on Christmas, evergreen,

An amazing life lesson is hidden in her beautiful poem,

Joy and happiness can be present even in the petty things around us as in the frozen box of fresh and juicy strawberries,

You might just have to open your eyes to see and appreciate God’s cute little blessings.

Trista Ainsworth My heart yearns for more and more juicy fruity memories…

It Was Me

Poetry: How I discovered the truth behind Lockdown

medium.com

How I discovered the truth behind Lock-down — Keno Ogbo

Keno Ogbo’s It was me activated my sixth sense for good reasons,

Your mind judges others as you want them to be judged, Your eyes see what you wanna see, Your ears hear what you wanna hear, Isn’t it yet clear? Keno’s poetry pearl makes it as clear as a crystal,

Where I thought the world moved slower, it was me. I stopped. — Keno Ogbo

I learned these precious life lessons —

If you wanna see others’ beauty look yourself in the mirror,

If you wanna judge others based on their behavior and actions step into their shoes,

Does that make sense?

Keno, words written in your poem is the true reflection of your wisdom,

Accept my sincere thanks, And I wish you share wisdom in several folds,

I don’t know about the world but I need, to become a better human…

A letter of revolt

to thoughts!

medium.com

This is my revolt announcement. Preserve your crown and throne, If you can. — Suntonu Bhadra in A letter of revolt

Suntonu Bhadra in his A letter of revolt wears Armour of courage preparing for war against his merciless boss in other term, the destructive thoughts,

You act like Gods, turn my brain cells, up and down, I act like your pawn — Suntonu Bhadra in A letter of revolt

Each powerful verse of his poem hits home for me, I am sure you will feel the same as well,

Damn! That ruthless demon taking control of my life as though it is the powerful master and I am its weakest slave,

Shouldn’t I be the one who should possess more strength and power to defeat that monster?

Suntonu Bhadra You are not alone,

Your letter of revolt is meant for every human, who is possessed by this evil demon overpowering his every emotion,

Letter tore down and thrown into the fire. ‘Stupid human!’- Thoughts utter. ‘Who has driven you to write this poem then?’ — Suntonu Bhadra in A letter of revolt

Is that pointing towards your defeat? Hope not.

Will you continue to fight and win? Hoping for it.

***

A special thanks to Suntonu Bhadra for his extra-ordinary patience, for choosing me for this brilliant, interesting and fun-filled challenge, and giving me this wonderful experience to work with two amazing writers Trista Ainsworth Keno Ogbo whose works I will look forward with great anticipation from now on…

Sincerely Chirag @ 2020

I have presented the below work for review to the brilliant team

Born To Die

Poem — Baby’s stream of consciousness

medium.com

If you wanna know about this collaboration project Click this —

A Brave Attempt of Poetry Review in a Collaboration Project

An Enjoyable Learning Experience With the Support of Trista Ainsworth, Keno Ogbo & Chirag

medium.com

June challenge Day 29 Hurrah!!! Just one day to go…

Thanks Sarah E Sturgis

Fresh Receptive

June Writing Challenge

Day 1 — June 1st

medium.com