Tag Archives: Storytelling

The Journey

AnSurBir didn’t bother listening to the rest of the trans-byte from Squad Circle Zeta. The talk from his pod was relentless – even during his Bei Dai time: “Caution, Sur – history and survival is at stake!” Snorting blaze breaths of green anxiousness, he thought, “Was he not the elder eight times removed from the Great Crawl? Calming himself, his blow slits flared; his skin changing texture to receive the coating filaments that would nourish his organs, he became lost in the sounds notching the time of departure. The great engine flared to fire; the ship shuddered ever so gently; Bei Dai slowly engulfed him. His last thought was how would those upon that green/blue world greet them?

 

Copyright (c) 2017 Roads, Paths, & Trails. All Rights Reserved

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The Gifts

Fan the fire in her eyes; nourish that dream in her heart –

Drench her mind in a golden ray of hope; as you wrap her soul in purpose.

Make sure she hears the wonders of time.

Guide her with the winds of passion;

Then give her your love to wear like a crown.

 

 

An excerpt from “Rainbow Stories and Waterfall Men” – a collection of poems and prose.

 

Copyright(c) January, 2017. Roads, Paths and Trails. All Rights Reserved

Looking out the window in the mirror

It was not something one sees every day. It was not a pretty site: his back was bent into sharp angles and his neck was marred with knots, ridges and scarring like leeches eating him alive. Contorted arms hung like scarecrow limbs. But what frightened him were the “black hole” eyes starting at him like pinpoints of pain. As he slowly looked down, he felt his knees wobble – legs rocked and leaned away from his control; he was – he was, inspired to think: what the hell? Why was this bright sunny day, blue-sky beautiful; with those puffy breaths of white clouds lazily hanging, drifting on the wind, showing him a hell-in-his-soul picture that was not real? What was his mind seeing if not God’s gift of a perfect day?

He rubbed his eyes as if to wipe away the foul image and thought as he sat down.  How many times had he stared out this window from his daddy’s favorite chair? It always nestled him in deep with its memories wrapped around him; comforting – familiar -filled with Daddy-Frye’s strength and sure-certainty that things would be alright with world. Why this morning had be been given such a horrid vision?  Who was saying what to him? He had to stand back up.  Had to get back up now! He leaned in close to the window ; touched it, rubbed the glass making sure it was solid, really there. Then he thought that maybe if he went outside and looked back through the window he would see his real world again.  As he shuffled and began to turn, he looked around and wondered why there was no door?

 

An excerpt from “Rainbow Stories and Waterfall Men” – a collection of poems and prose.

 

Copyright (c) January, 2017. Roads, Paths and Trails. All Rights Reserved.

April: a month of Sundays to clean house

I’ll admit that I just might be stretching things a bit.  Using a word that immediately brings to mind a person (or persons) tasked with work that deals with the scruffy and sometimes unpleasant.

But hear me out.

It is honorable and dignified work.  All over the world, “we the people” depend on this activity to promote cleanliness and good health – to put a shine and sparkle to our surroundings.  I have come to appreciate the month of April in this manner.  Remember these famous phrases: “April Showers bring May Flowers.”  “Truer words have never been spoken.”  Notice how they complement each other – speak the truth of each.  Who comes up with this stuff?  I guess I’ll have to do a “DuckDuckGo” search and see how these famous phrases came to be.

But I digress.

I know I am not alone remembering and thinking about April’s rain sweeping away winter’s dregs and grime – rinsing the streets, houses, cleaning the air we breathe – and God’s green earth of grit, slime, and general disgusting things left behind from the cold, dreary brrrr-days of winter that always last way too long for its own good.  That’s April: coming to our rescue in the da – nah….nick of time, and bringing those beautiful flowers to boot.  My goodness, let’s not forget the sunshine and a bit of warmth (depending on where one lives) to welcome this annual month of cleansing given to us free of charge.

Can I get an Amen?

So I am dusting off my soap box to sing (well, to write actually) about a few of the pains and praises of April (“How many ways do I love you, let me count the ways” – thank you, Miss Browning.)  The first thing I like about April is the love-hate relationship I have with its very first day.  Hail!  Hail!  Its April Fool’s Day – dedicated to jokers and their jokes and us poor souls who bear the brunt of them. I am sure I hold this day in such disdain because I can never pull off a proper and spectacular April Fool’s joke on anyone.  Not even our cat – Miss Lucy.  She will have none of it.  On the other hand, I tend to fall for every corny incident ever invented for this horrid day.  I never see them coming.  I know, I know – that says something about me.  Now you know why I try and ignore this whole inglorius and asinine day.

Moving right along.

I love the rains of April: drizzles, soft sprinkles, windows crying raindrops, down pours and deluges.  Are thunderstorms the same as deluges?  Another DuckDuckGo search is in order.  Anyway, I am the first to admit that I am not happy about some of the heavy-duty weather a few of these rainy days deliver to us.  But hey, I got no say in the matter.  Way, way above my pay grade.  That said, April’s “right as rain” sets the stage for beauty to blossom in its many forms.  I am overjoyed with its invitation to the young ( and those young at heart) to go dancing and frolicking in its cleansing nectar.

And then there is April’s promise of love: new love, renewal of love, love lost and found – alas, forbidden love.  April opens the door to them all.  For me, it is a re-affirmation of a profoundly deep and heart-felt love.  I celebrate a wedding anniversary with the love of my life.  Long live April!

But doggonit, for some of us it’s also time to pay the piper: “…to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.”  Sad to say, April brings the tax collector.  Drat!  But those famous words brings to those faithful who savor the month of April because it celebrates the most Holy of Holies: love from on High, Grace, Redemption, and the Resurrection.  April delivers!  April’s trumpets and bugle’s blare the Glory of it all!  April’s drums thunder and roll and roil the heavens!  April, by God!  Wonderful April. What’s not to love about it?

Well, there is one minor thing: April is one of those short months. Five of them to be exact. Maybe this is so we don’t get too used to its promises of delightful things – the future it offers.  It leaves us something to look forward to next April.  I don’t know about you, but I am okay with that.  After all, May having an extra day to dazzle us with her beautiful flowers is heaven sent.

Praise be.

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The Good Life

What does it mean the “Tree of Life?”  Is that the same as the “Circle of Life?”  Or do we all think Life is what it is?  Then again, Life couldn’t be sweeter for some – Oh! and don’t forget the people who think Life is set and done.

Let’s not forget those who go through Life on a “wing and a prayer” – and those filled with dispair.  And many a soul live their Life in total disrepair, so there! Though many hearts beat to Life’s urge to dare; dreams of the dream of Life’s beauty rare

Can’t say anyone understands Life totally for the good – being that Life many times breaks you bad.  imagine if you will Life’s lessons you have had.  Would you trade another Life for another Life happy or sad? Be honest with your brain now, because Life CAN make one glad

Here we are, going round and round about Life.  How it’s the best thing going though full of strife – this Life. But please don’t be misled by the words I have said. Life has been bouncing me around; playing with my head.  But then, that’s Life and the reason to live it is better than being dead