ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)
Bio
~ American feminist living in Sweden ~ SHE/HER
Admin. Vocal Social Society
Find me: @andreapolla63.bsky.social
Achievements (1)
Stories (191)
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Slut Farts
Twenty years ago my weary eyed best friend disembarked from her first flight to Sweden to visit me. Exhausted and waiting for her connecting flight she looked about for her favorite pick me up, diet coke. After finding a vending machine, she pushed the button for her anticipated beverage and a bright, red, light appeared across the top of the vending machine and read, "SLUT". Being a woman of impeccable standards she was immediately offended. How did the machine know so much about our pasts,?
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Humor
The Villagers
Setting: A rural village located on Sweden's west coast experiences unsettling changes as two USA emigrants buy a farmhouse from 1759 and begin to renovate. Simultaneously, summer houses begin to be sold to more folks from the big city of Gothenburg and have begun to be occupied with young people who know nothing about living in the countryside. Surrounded by dense forests, a pristine lake and well trodden paths, the villagers are a clash of generations and cultural misinterpretations which often lead to promiscuous activities and hilarious interactions.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Humor
Kahlo's Passion; The Art of Pain
Decades apart, lands away, your determination met my grimaced smile with a tear so heavy I felt it bruise my shoulder. The agony of chronic pain held us separate from the world, buried alive in a place only those with eyes of amber can understand. Your skin so warm, mine so pale lift our brushes in rebellion. Entangled hearts yearn like a lost lover to be found.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Art
The Gatekeeper's Wife
When the door was opened love ushered us in, our eyes met and locked once again. We left outside the weight of real life, immediate resurrection of man and wife. Again we remeet, embrace and feel the Gatekeeper's steadfast grace of steel. Were we once a humble pair splitting wood in this frosty air? Could I have worn the apron with all the little pockets and worn our love upon my breast in a silver locket? Could you have lit the lamps around these grounds, secured the doors, making dutiful rounds? Was I here boiling coffee on the woodstove, mending your clothes, warming your supper with my lips painted rose? Did we sit at this table and you ask for my hand, give me a kiss and a wedding band? Were we the lovers who lied in this bed, content with simplicity and the life we led? Whether we traveled from then to now you are still my Gatekeeper forever somehow. You've taken my love, my heart, my fears, you've kept me safe and dried my tears. The fire will burn on for eternity, you're always my Gatekeeper and hold the key. Each time we visit this calm, dreamy place, the door to our love is reopened unyielding with grace.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Poets
One Last Laugh
Pushing their bicycles up the rocky path was a time for laughs and hunger after a day spent swimming and exploring by the North Sea’s inlet to their small village on Sweden's west coast. Storms never frightened these boys; they knew when it was time to head for shelter. This jaunt would take a life changing twist. As they felt the pelleting rain upon their backs the sky split open, winds whipped upon them fiercely, their vulnerabilities exposed.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Fiction
One Last Storm
Pushing their bicycles up the rocky path was a time for laughs and hunger after a day spent swimming and exploring by the North Sea’s inlet to their small village on Sweden's west coast. Storms never frightened these boys; they knew when it was time to head for shelter. This jaunt would take a life changing twist. As they felt the pelleting rain upon their backs the sky split open, winds whipped upon them fiercely, their vulnerabilities exposed.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Fiction
Midnight Whispers
I was born four years ago in a pet shop on Sweden's west coast. I don't remember much of my first months, yet I am grateful a kind man chose me to surprise his wife for her birthday. I was six weeks old, female and she was fifty-six. Apparently, she had been through a rough year with her physical health and I was meant to brighten her daily life. She was determined to bond with me, in that dogged human way when they repeat words and expect bountiful results such as sitting up on command, giving out treats for ridiculous behaviours and exhausting themselves loopy with ideas to communicate. I had everything, agility training, paper towel tubes, toys, freedom to be in her and her husband's bed to watch television and okay, I enjoyed being spoiled to some extent. She named me Bella; I am part Dwarf and part Lion-Haired and without seeming vain, I admit I live up to my name.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Fiction
Our Dreams
My dreams don’t match yours; do they have to? Can you take the lead for your own needs? I can’t fulfill yours and you can’t fulfill mine, but I can give you love and listen to your dogged determination as you assemble your quest. Engage me. Pull from the depths of your being and expunge all of your desires; I won’t run or hide. Don’t make me guess at who you really are, what you really want or what frightens you. Simplicity can be so contrite. I don’t want to dance around my own nature; I must be, must BE, must be, ME. To hold on to you is not to let go of me; to believe in myself does not mean I do not believe in you. Trust my defiance, my arrogance and faults, for they too, are the truth of me. I am not your leader, so please do not follow. I am not compliant so please don’t beg me to change. I fall in your love and swim around and then struggle to breathe. I need US and I need me. Loosening the reigns won’t cost you my devotion, likely it will bring me closer to you as I fly. I am bored with repetitive notions, convaluted emotions, chatter and morning talk. Let us be two and one. One love we share. Another we spare.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Poets
And Just Like That
We ran aground, abandoned our selves, leaving remnants of our selfishness behind. Tattered, weathered, we crawled ashore only to find that we were not existing to comfort one another, only to comfort ourselves. Distress signals were fired, yet no one came to calm our storm. We were no longer sailing as one, broken, I abandoned ship. What good Captain of honour does such a ferocious leap, only for their soul? Perhaps one who gave all of herself, became a passive wench following another’s sails, n’er listening to the wind’s song or calling out in the fog with her own voice. Thunderous warnings were present, no good shipman would deny them. She bailed out, tossed by the tyrannical storm and sank. Sank, scraping her fair skin on the rugged seashore, bleeding and starved, she made it just far enough to see him walk away. His footsteps, deep and arrogant were all that she was left with. She looked at the sky and saw no light, only darkening clouds laughing at her naivity.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Poets
