Author: Ryan Olejnik

Lost Somewhere

Poetry Writing

Lost Somewhere

By

Once, my spirit wandered free and bold,
Pine-scented winds wove through the trees,
The Rockies stood, silent and old,
A fresh snow kissed each peak.

In the stillness, on that lofty throne,
I sat, a pilgrim to realms unseen,
Cross-legged in lotus, the world’s voice a drone,
While my soul floated like a lily, serene.

I feasted off the land, its purest green,
And drank from the stream where time is slow,
Each drop a memory, each leaf a buried dream,
In a world that’s both familiar and unknown.

We joined hands as the light began to fade,
Sang our hopes to the darkening sky,
But our prayers scattered like whispers in the shade,
Lost somewhere between the earth and the sigh.

Conversations in the Garden

Poetry Writing

Conversations in the Garden

By

The elm trees sway under August’s breath,
The sun, a lion with its mane ablaze,
Watches over Summer and Autumn—
Two sisters meeting in the garden’s quiet dusk.
They sip on rosé, tasting memories in each drop,
While crickets play their twilight song.
Their words, soft and fleeting, drift like shadows,
As they wait for their brother, Winter,
Who will soon lay his frost across the earth.
Daffodils now solemnly bow their heads,
As leaves, in their silent fall,
Take on the colors of change.
A chill slips through what has come to pass,
As the elder sky wraps itself in black,
Preparing for the long night ahead.

Harvesting Dreams

Poetry Writing

Harvesting Dreams

By

In the quiet twilight, dreams take their flight,
A stealthy owl, guiding through the darkest night.
With wings that whisper secrets of the skies,
He soars in silence, ever so wise.

He brings to life what our hearts confide,
Turning wishes into a radiant light.
A lantern glowing in the shadowed times,
Illuminating paths where hope still climbs.

Towards a world of dreams intertwined,
Where aspirations grow, pure and divine.
Like fruit on the vine, ripe and sweet,
From the seeds in our minds, we proudly reap.

August 7th, 2024

Journal Writing

August 7th, 2024

Chronically Late: The Misfortunes of a Trendsitter

By

They say time is money, so why am I poor? I mean, that can’t be good, right? Maybe it’s because I tend to be late. And by late, I don’t mean fashionably late; I have no fashion sense. My style is like boho-chic meets business casual. It’s as if I’m trying to make a statement that I’m against conformity while simultaneously wanting to fit in. It’s very confusing. I think I’m more of a trendsitter than a trendsetter, meaning I sit and wait on a trend until it’s no longer trendy anymore. I’m always late jumping on the bandwagon, and then everyone is like, “Dude, that was so last year.”

One thing I’m not late for is a party. I swear my internal clock is set to party time. However, I do tend to stay too late, especially when it’s a birthday party. I’ve found that sometimes they’ll give me leftover food and cake just to get me to leave. It’s like they’ve figured out my kryptonite: the promise of free cake.

I wish I wasn’t late for the early bird special at restaurants. Although, given the old adage, “the early bird catches the worm,” I have to wonder: do they serve spaghetti made out of worms? I wouldn’t know because I’ve never made it to an early bird special. It’s probably a good thing because I would probably open a can of worms with the restaurant if I told everyone their ‘early bird special’ might just involve actual worms. That would definitely complicate my chances of getting a free dessert! Knowing my luck, the dessert would be mud pie. Speaking of worms though, I’m not in any hurry to become worm food myself.

Sometimes, I think I’ll even be late for my own funeral, but who really wants to be on time for that? When the time comes, I want to call the undertaker and say, “You know I’m going to be just a few years late, right?” I’m sure the undertaker will understand. In fact, he’ll probably expect it, considering my track record.

And speaking of track records, I think my personal best is showing up a solid 45 minutes late to a meeting because I got lost in the black hole of the internet, reading about the history of the spork. Fascinating stuff, but not exactly time well spent. No wonder I’m poor.

August 2nd, 2024

Journal Writing

August 2nd, 2024

The Wizard of Schnoz and The Great Sneeze Storm

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Often in the morning, I find myself sneezing up a storm. Let me tell you from experience that you never want a sneeze storm loose in your home. Suddenly, it gets very dark, despite your bright but energy-efficient lighting. Papers start scattering around and blowing out the window. So long, shopping list. I guess I didn’t need those Cool Ranch Buffalo Cheetos, anyway.

Next comes the heavy rains. Good luck filing an insurance claim for water damage; they will only tell you they don’t protect against sneeze storms. Too bad the wind also took the overdue bill for the insurance company.

Don’t even get me started about the thunder and the angry neighbors banging at your door because they think you’re testing a new pair of subwoofers with one of those bass mix albums. You know the one: Gesundheit Bass Vol. 5.

Then comes the lightning. The lights begin to flicker before leaving you in the dark completely. I know I paid that bill! Also, contrary to popular belief, those “energy-saving” lightbulbs don’t actually save up energy to use at a later time.

Once the sneeze storm finally clears and your power is restored, you might discover a redheaded girl in ruby slippers and her pet Cairn Terrier mysteriously standing in your living room. She might be asking to meet the Wizard of Schnoz. You try explaining to her you’re not some powerful wizard, you just have powerful allergies. Anyway, I told her, “You’re more than welcome to look and if you do happen to find him, ask if he has some antihistamines for me.”

I regretted extending the welcome because she really overstayed it. When she invited some scary-looking scarecrow guy over, that was the last straw. I don’t know what made her think I was having some kind of party, other than the Gesundheit Bass music. Even if I was having a party, you don’t just invite any old scarecrow over without asking. I mean, it’s kind of a no-brainer.

If that wasn’t bad enough, then a group of people burst through my door claiming to be storm chasers right in the middle of the game of Twister we were playing. I really need to pick up some Benadryl. I would hate to see what happens next allergy season if I could see anything at all with red, itchy swollen eyes. Also, does anyone know how much a one-way bus ticket to Kansas is? Apparently, that girl, Dorothy, asked the dog to fetch her slippers and I’m sure you can piece together the rest.

I feel another sneeze coming on if these people don’t get out of my place. I try suppressing it, but I sneeze so hard that this time a cloud of glitter bursts out of my nose, showering everyone in the vicinity. For a moment, there’s stunned silence as everyone processes what just happened. Then, once my uninvited guests start finding glitter in their drinks, on their clothes, and even in their hair, the novelty quickly wears off. Amidst the laughter, someone jokes, “Well, I guess this is a party favor we didn’t ask for!” But as the glitter continues to spread like a relentless sparkly plague, they start heading for the door, not wanting to take home any more of my glittery sneeze souvenirs.

Echoes of a Vanished Era

Poetry Writing

Echoes of a Vanished Era

By

The Rhinestone Cowboy has lost a stud,
His stallion left him stranded in the mud.
Houdini made his greatest escape,
The magic vanished with him that day.

No more Blockbusters or RadioShacks,
Elvis has left the building, no turning back.
Gone are the days of CDs and iPods,
Michael moonwalked to the stars, against all odds.

You can’t find payphones or call collect,
Good luck watching movies on VHS.
Muhammad floated like a butterfly,
But his sting has been put to rest.

What happened to Teddy Ruxpin,
Ever since Toys ‘R’ Us went bankrupt?
Doves cried when Prince’s purple reign ended,
He’s now dancing in a purple heaven.

Ziggy Stardust now “Ashes to Ashes,”
I don’t even know what’s the new fashion.
Icons fade, but memories are everlasting,
Never forget, it all goes so fast.

July 30th, 2024

Journal Writing

July 30th, 2024

What Brought Circ-us Together

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I didn’t write the book on love, but a romance novel—that’s an entirely different story. I totally feel like that’s something I could do, but in my case, it would definitely need to be a romantic comedy. Let’s see if I can come up with a meet cute and a rough outline for one. It obviously needs to be something far-fetched, you know, for comedic value. Here’s what I have so far:

“Everybody Loves a Clown”

Sir Charles “Chuckles” McJester, the Duke of Merriment and Laughter, is a clown for a traveling circus. He makes children merry with his hilarious antics, but behind the painted-on face, he is truly sad. He longs for a woman to marry and have his children. Someone who can bring him merriment for a change. All that changes when he meets Violet Bliss, an animal rights activist set on shutting down his circus.

It’s love at first sight when he sees her passing out flyers in the fairgrounds. He works up the courage to approach her, his oversized shoes make a flopping sound as he walks. Chuckles hands Violet Bliss a flower. As she bends over to take a whiff, he squirts her in the nose with water. At this point, she is pretty displeased, but he quips, “Hey, it’s just a splash of affection!” In an attempt to redeem himself, he makes her a balloon animal, which she then pops. He jokes, “Guess that relationship was full of hot air!”

Any kind of romantic future for these two seems bleak until Chuckles starts helping her sabotage the circus. Violet Bliss starts opening up to the possibility of romance. Things are going great until Chuckles’ ex-girlfriend, The Bearded Lady, gets jealous and decides to do some sabotaging of her own. One night, after Violet Bliss sees Chuckles and The Bearded Lady in the kissing booth, she decides to break off the affair.

As their big-top love seems to have hit rock bottom, Chuckles discovers Violet Bliss has been kidnapped. He soon learns it was Barnaby Barnum, the circus owner, fed up with Violet’s attempts at shutting him down. Chuckles, with the help of The World’s Strongest Man, a trapeze artist, and a miniature horse, comes to her rescue. He explains what she had seen was another clown meant to look like him kissing The Bearded Lady. “It was all smoke and mirrors, and a lot of beard wax!”

He then tells her that when they first met, she popped his balloon animal; now it was his turn to pop something. He gets down on one knee and proposes, saying, “Will you be the ringmaster of my heart?” They get married at the fairgrounds where they first met, with a bear on roller skates as the ring bearer. Together they change the circus, removing all the live animal acts. As they ride off into the sunset on a unicycle built for two, Chuckles can’t resist one last joke: “I guess you could say we’re the main attraction now!”

So, what do you think? I realize this might not exactly be romantic comedy gold and is a little fruity, but at least it wasn’t about fruits or vegetables this time. Am I right?

Earth Song

Poetry Writing

Earth Song

By

In the heart of nature, green and serene,
To which every vein of river will lead.
Beneath the sky so vast and blue,
Take a deep breath, it is all here for you.

The whispering leaves, the rustling trees,
The hush of the forests and their secrets.
We tread lightly on paths of earth,
Heavy footsteps make the creatures stir.

With every step, let’s keep it clean,
For all walks of life, not just human beings.
Together, we can make a change,
Even a little goes a long way.

In harmony with nature, hand in hand,
Hearing the earth song, we start to dance.
For a future bright, let’s act today,
Be the light and bring dawn to this new age.

With care and love, our planet thrives,
It will bring tears to Mother Nature’s eyes.
And in her joy, we’ll find our peace,
As thanks for our humility.

Together we’ll protect and mend,
Bring healing all across the land.
With mindful hearts and open minds,
Together, our spirits will bind.

A promise to nature, pure and true,
We will give back everything that we use.
In this shared journey, side by side,
We’re all brothers and sisters in this tribe.

In the heart of nature, green and serene,
We preserve the beauty that we’ve seen.
Beneath the sky, vast and blue,
We’ll keep our world forever new.

July 27th, 2024

Journal Writing

July 27th, 2024

Corn Paper and Corny Jokes: A Match Made in Pun Heaven

By

As a writer, putting words on paper sometimes feels like trying to peel an onion without crying—a few tears are inevitable. My nemesis, writer’s block, loves to show up uninvited, but sometimes I find myself worrying about the trees that sacrificed their lives for my corny jokes. I mean, who wants to go down in history as the Grim Reaper of trees? Plus, history books are pretty paper-intensive.

One day, a brilliant thought struck me: Can you make paper out of corn? We already turn corn into fuel and soft drinks, so why not paper? Picture it: writing corny jokes on actual corn paper. The pun potential is through the roof!

After some intense research (by which I mean a quick Google search), I discovered that you can indeed make paper from corn husks. I aim for my anecdotes to be not only ridiculous but also mildly educational, so here’s how it works.

Step one: shuck the corn. Step two: shuck the corn into the trash because we’re making paper, not dinner. Aw, shucks! Just kidding—we’re making both! Besides, I’m not exactly sure tossing ears of corn into a garbage can is how you play cornhole. If it isn’t, then boy have I been playing it wrong. Step three: collect the husks, but make sure you remove the shanks. They are neither useful in papermaking nor edible. You could try feeding them to some pigs, but they’d likely just turn up their snouts and say, “No shanks.”

Next, toss the husks into a pot with some soda ash. Now, I know what you’re thinking: new soda flavor? Not quite—but it can be used as an intermediate to manufacture corn sweeteners. Once boiled, blend those husks into a pulp. We’re definitely not making corn smoothies either. Then, spread the pulp on a screen, press out the moisture, and let it dry overnight under a heavy weight. Congratulations, you’ve made corn parchment! Or maybe just the wrap for a tamale?

At this point, you might be wondering, “What’s up with this guy and vegetables? Last week it was tomatoes, now it’s corn.” Well, fun fact: tomatoes are actually fruit, a berry to be precise. I told you this would be educational. But still I wonder, what the heck then are grape tomatoes? The truth is, I’ve been on a plant-based diet lately, so I’ve been vegging out. Anyway, now I can proudly say that these corny jokes are written on corn paper—eco-friendly and pun-approved!

Stay tuned for next week’s installment of this Plant-Based Digest where we discuss potatoes, our best spuds.

A Melody of Joyful Nights

Poetry Writing

A Melody of Joyful Nights

By

Sweet music, sweet as buttercream cake,
Filling the air with notes that never break.
It plays like children on a hot summer street,
Their laughter mingled with the melody’s beat.

Let’s be free from worry and celebrate,
Dancing in twilight until it’s late.
Smiling so brightly, as we shuffle our feet,
Spreading joy to everyone we meet.

Sweet songs swirl around like cotton candy,
Creating colors the world has never seen.
The city is a canvas on which we paint,
Vivid dreams and hopes, untainted by restraint.

Let’s be merry and raise our cups with glee,
Embracing the night in carefree harmony.
Until the morning brings another day,
We’ll savor the magic before it fades away.