May 04 2012

BEANSTALK RESTAURANT, REVIEW


The Bone Bread with its crusty exterior and soft nutty flavored interior provided the ideal complement to the bean soup.
Baby trees with golden egg hollandaise, proved to be a rich accompaniment to the delectably tender Rack of Jack. While the singing harp lent atmosphere, perfect for a romantic date.

 

Madeleine Sklar© 2012

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May 02 2012

PARADISE LOST… AGAIN (A short, short, flash)


The Devil, always knowing when we were happily oblivious, and doing fine, appeared to be having a good laugh as the part of the Great Multi-One, who, while talking to His/Her self, had made Their Almighty, omniscient mind up, to mess with us all just one more time.

Madeleine Sklar© 2012

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May 01 2012

AWAKENING IN A PERFECT WORLD


AWAKENING IN A PERFECT WORLD
Shikina carefully drew her bow across the strings. Small birds surrounded her. Larger birds settled on nearby branches.
She played on. Rainbows flew from her strings becoming flowers. Animals and people, one by one took their place in her beautiful circle.
Peace filled Her loving re-creation.

Madeleine Sklar© 2012

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Apr 27 2012

OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES : MORE FROM THIS YEAR’S PASSOVER SEDER

Published by under Thoughts About Our World

Recently I led a Passover Seder at my daughter’s house in Berkeley it was one of my favorites because it was the first I’ve shared with my granddaughter. So although Passover is past for this year, freedom as an on-going personal process remains.

OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES
MORE FROM THIS YEAR’S PASSOVER SEDER

On Passover, we retell the story of the Jews exodus from the land of Egypt, and their journey through the Red Sea, to emerge as a free people. At each Seder, we say the words: “This year we’re slaves in the land of Egypt, next year we will be free people…”
We say this because we believe freedom is not a fixed thing but an on-going process.
When I suggested, that beginning with the youngest, we each name that which still enslaves us. My granddaughter immediately said,
“I want to be free of our unfair lunch lady.”
Next, it was her father’s turn.
“Fear,” was his response.
“Can I say something else?” asked our eight-year old.
“Sure.”
“I want to be free from having to be like everyone else, so I can be more myself.”
Turned out she’d spoken for us all.

Madeleine Sklar© 2012

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Apr 26 2012

HOME COMING

Driving over the mountains her ears plugged up.
Beside her, his tiresome voice blurred to a grey drone.

The radio flickered, static; then silence.

Snow clouds released their heavy burden. Sky and road merged in white brilliance.
Blindly she drove into the light.

Madeleine Sklar© 2012

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Apr 25 2012

FALSE IDOLS (a short, short passover story)


Gray ocean walls fold over Pharaoh’s army. On the insecure, shifting sands of paradox, fear always seeks absolutes, and so we enslave ourselves. The easy answer creates our golden calf.
Later, when forced to abandon that golden calf, we, fearing true freedom, still refuse to abandon some One Right Answer.

Madeleine Sklar© 2012

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Apr 24 2012

SPRING CLEANING

SPRING CLEANING

“Iris, heads like spears, knife-shaped leaves, hands in prayer, pressing through dark unconscious earth seeking the light. Is it not the same for us?” She turned from the window.

“Of course, Dear. … don’t forget the laundry.” Eyes glued to the game, he startled, hearing their door slam behind her for the last time.

 

 

 

Madeleine Sklar© 2012

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Apr 20 2012

SERPENT NATURE (A short, short true story)

This story was inspired when my daughter had a pet snake, although we actually had to free the mouse and give it another since hungry as she was she woldn’t eat her friend)

SERPENT NATURE
She’d been lonely when it appeared.
At first shy, now when tired, it nestled its small body against her, as she coiled around its warmth.
Daily, she watched her tiny charge explore their shared space. It ate and slept safe in her embrace.
Now, suddenly, her mouth watered.

Madeleine Sklar© 2012

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Apr 18 2012

TRAP

TRAP

Voices shouted:  “Hands up!” “Drop your guns!” “Drop them!”

       Didn’t they realize he couldn’t?

He stood. Waving his outstretched arms, desperately trying to signal before their shots whirled and dropped him.

Drawing closer, they noticed his mouth clear-taped shut and guns duct-taped to his hands.

Then shots rang out and they too fell.

 

 

Madeleine Sklar© 2012

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Apr 18 2012

HAUNTED HOUSE

HAUNTED HOUSE

Her parents claimed it was her imagination: Evenings, she’d scream, hearing ghostly whispers or feeling dead fingers stroke her neck.

Even after her family moved away, the ghosts’ breath, tangled Indian smoke signals in her memory.

A half-century later, she’d return with her son to discover her childhood’s blue handprints, waiting, behind the attic door.

 

Madeleine Sklar© 2012

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