Pacificmelody's Blog

I've got the computer keys to the kingdom!


Charlotte (Snooki) Brontë Scandal Ends in Court

Charlotte (Snooki) Brontë

Wednesday, December 16, 1840. Here are the latest developments in the adventures of Snooki Bronte as she charts her willful course through the salons and ballrooms of polite society, head held high. The ladies put their heads together behind their fans, to whisper of rumors and sightings, while the gentlemen greet her with compliments, toasts and languishing glances.

This Reporter was in court to witness Miss Brontë’s appearance before the normally austere Judge Clarence Anthony Roberts, whose collar wilted as visibly as did his usually stern visage, as Snooki worked her feminine wiles upon him. Clad in a sober dark blue gown which nonetheless managed to cling to her form just a tad too faithfully, the Defendant appeared young, demure and fragile. Her abundant brown hair, caught up in a becoming style with wispy curls escaping, caught, too, the light and the avid eyes of the spectators gathered to watch the drama unfold. The crowd was warned by the Judge that excessive emotion would not be allowed!

Snooki, as she prefers to be addressed by friends, presented a picture of repentance as the numerous charges were read out. She expressed herself to be desirous of making reparation and of leading, in future, a life of sobriety and good works. She accepted Judge Roberts’s sentence to ‘acts of charity on behalf of the indigent’, with grace and a becoming humility, and thanked him prettily for the Court’s forbearance.

As part of the plea bargain arranged by her shrewd and obviously smitten attorney, Snooki will be accompanied on her outings for the next three months by a matron trained by the Bow Street Runners and currently in the employ of the Metropolitan Police. If this stipulation frets the suspiciously quiet Snooki, it does not show. One could almost be forgiven for thinking that some outrageous scheme lurks behind those limpid eyes, that enigmatic smile. I doubt she will leave us in suspense for long, and this Reporter will be the first to bring you word!

Following is a link to this Reporter’s earlier story:



For The Children In My Life

Christmas Tree

Christmas lights drape every window

Though there’s not a hint of snow

I could hear the church bells ringing

As I hung the mistletoe

Familiar songs play everywhere

And signs count down the shopping days

Santa’s enthroned in his big red chair

At the mall while elves fill up his sleigh

Even Ebenezer Scrooge would smile

To see the happy children’s faces

The reindeer will fly for many a mile

As through the night dear Santa races

Bringing stockings, gifts and Christmas joy

To fill the hearts of each girl and boy!


Because I Must

It Blooms Because It Must

I am opening myself, body, mind and heart, for the first time in days, no weeks, edging towards months, that the words have not flowed, and I have felt so cut off and so alone, away from the fire that has warmed my frozen bones ere now. Come back, I know you’re out there. I know you’re waiting for me, and the key which seems to be mislaid, to unlock the floodgates and let it all come swarming in again. I have been bereft without the passion that warms my blood and keeps my senses alive and questing. Ah, here it comes, I can feel the movement, feel the slumberous spell sloughing off in waves as it all begins to flow again, to move within my brain and heart and nudge the words loose, make space for all the new growth, the new ideas, the new moods and needs and desires and the total unwillingness to give in, to let what is be enough, when I know it never can be ~ not for me with all the questions racing still through my brain and my life, and I know the answers are out there. It’s just a matter of connecting the two and finding the perfect ones as the light burns ever brighter and closer and I race, I race, to keep up as the tempo surges and I must catch up, there are words I must hear, carried in the wind moving ever and always away from me. I must be very quick to hear them, with all their nuances and meanings, just for me. And the music pours over me like honey, this is right, this is perfect and meant to be from the time before time was measured in the tiny increments of hours, minutes, days, this is from a time when it was all beginning and a time that will never end and I will search and search for the elusive answers as I travel down this road which owns me and my tired feet. I will send you word when I am able . . .