From Stephanie Platter

THE MUSE
Writing is instinct, impulse, catharsis. It’s wordsmithing the poetry of every day happenings mixed with the prose of perfect wonderment. How does anyone deal with anything in life without a pen in hand? Stephanie Platter is a teacher, writer, singer, film critic. She learned to love coffee on the rain-stained street corners of Seattle. She learned to love people in church. For her, nothing beats fresh mountain air and sunrises, except maybe a meltably well-crafted sentence or a movie that makes her cry. Visit her movie review site: splatteronfilm.wordpress.com

See those clouds over there?

In junior high I made a tornado machine. For the science fair, I was determined to do something showstopping, something smashing. No clay-made volcano of baking soda and vinegar explosions would suffice. Our summers growing up were often spent driving to and from Minnesota so my mother could help on the farm. I assumed in…

Shoot the Moon

Stay singleminded. Focus. Be confident. Follow the heat. Run like your life depends upon it. But don’t get cocky. There’s always going to be somebody better, but strive to be the best. Follow your dreams. If your tired of giving up, stop quitting and make your dreams come true. Shoot for the moon, miss and…

Hope is Gold

RETREAT IS ESCAPE from the clutches of have-to Indulgent reward for the business of must-do The harrowing footsteps down library corridors Chasing down knowledge from book binds and test scores     Success is revision of many mistakes So summer the swimming of so many lakes Retreat is retrieving the bygones and times Of floating…

What He Fought For

I WONDER WHAT HE THOUGHT as he walked onto that cold grey-washed battleship. The gangplank long and ominous from shore to dock to deck onboard with tiny windows evenly dotting each level. Smoke stacks tall and towering met rails with lined edges and rope cords hanging like jewelry.  The Pearl was an odd concrete brick block…

The One With the Steak Dinner

I love the Y. Early in the morning, almost empty, I’m the youngest one in the changing area and the first one in the water. They like to call me “little girl.” Could be derogatory. I choose to believe it’s endearing, that they think I am endearing. The water is cold at first. Slow wade…

I am the tree fort

THE SHIRE SITS mid-mountain on the rise, home to my sweet hobbit parents. It’s there in the woods where I learned to make camp, play house, and build four walls with my imagination into any space available. A giant evergreen grows in front, jutting out from the ridge. It used to scare me in its…