How are you?

Originally posted on Her Writing Haven:
There are days when you are close,but mostly days when you are far.And sometimes, even the starsseem to wonder where you are. This pushing and pullingdue to some odd gravitational forcealways leaves me to wonderif you’ve just gotten off course. And my soul is forever searching,looking for a definitive sign,to show me you’re alright,in the midst of this decline.… Continue reading How are you?

The List, Part II, First Draft

The picture window in the richly appointed office of the Secretary for the Elimination of Fascist Activities overlooked the National Mall. The Secretary left his mahogany desk and stood at the window, hands behind his back. Outside, off to the left, the tall, black National Oppressed Peoples’ Monument stood needle straight within the Ring of Flags representing countries liberated from capitalist oppressors. The gray sky … Continue reading The List, Part II, First Draft

The List

They came in the middle of the night. Expletive-screaming teams of jackbooted, black-clad List Enforcers battered down doors. Family pets were shot as Enforcers dispersed to round up sleeping children and parents. Bound and blindfolded, whole families were herded into cattle trucks, crammed in so tight taking a full breath was impossible. The weak and elderly succumbed quickly. They were fortunate. The wailing of terrified … Continue reading The List

Dancing with Orange Blossoms

A very rough draft of the opening chapter to Dancing with Orange Blossoms, the prequel to Honey Ko. I’m not sure I could write an entire novel this way, or if readers would enjoy it. Maybe I could bookend it this way but write the rest in the traditional manner.Thoughts? Is the italicized portion disconcerting? Is narration by a dead person too much. Finally, is … Continue reading Dancing with Orange Blossoms

William Goodfellow, Farmer

Here’s a very rough draft of the opening chapter of my next novel, William Goodfellow. A tale of hope, self-discovery, disillusion, repentance, acceptance, and peace William Goodfellow dashed the hoe from his hands and stared at the earth packed beneath his torn fingernails. “This is madness. I am a man, not an animal,” he cried, and fled his field of corn and the blazing sun … Continue reading William Goodfellow, Farmer

Random Thoughts – Writing and Writers

A loud, noisy grateful shoutout to Ana P. Rose for the post idea. Thank you, Ana! 😊 My first foray into writing was a poem I wrote when I was 15. I still have it. English was my favorite class. I dedicated my first novel, Honey Ko, to my High School and College English teachers. Mr. Grundy told me I could write, Mr. Karlin taught … Continue reading Random Thoughts – Writing and Writers

Perfection

Soft curl of a sweeping wave breaking on a sandy beach; crystal clear dew drops dangling from a leaf; wind- whispers leaning on pond grass with feather-tips softly sighing for the dragonflies hovering near; random dreams while dozing in the warmth of a sunny day in May; rose petals’ intimate, layering spirals; the delicate filigree of your ear; soft caress in the touch of your … Continue reading Perfection

Gentle Dove of Sweetly Cooing Breast

Green, green of eye, with strangled cry and knuckled mouth, chasm-echoed tricks of thought, devil-filled, of shadows in the dark Behold the crack of heart’s desire, where love is thwarted, thinking he, she seeks another, one not he, but he his brother He must fly at risk of thunder from fool well-versed in blunder, bethought a man, beheld a cripple weak of heart and branded … Continue reading Gentle Dove of Sweetly Cooing Breast

What is Freedom?

Did the Greatest Generation sacrifice for nothing? The further removed we are from that era the greater the life of ease we’ve gained. Returning Sailors and GIs came home to an American economic machine powering the world. Old military barracks were turned into housing while the forerunners of Levittowns were built. Suddenly, suburbs were springing up all across America, dads were using the GI Bill … Continue reading What is Freedom?

Frames – Trespasser (Sample Fragment 1)

Originally posted on Ana Linden:
“Help yourself. You still smoke?” Pointless question, stating the obvious, so it would fill the air between them… He tilted his head apologetically and smiled back, that embarrassed half a smile of his, when she’d catch him doing something she didn’t approve of and she’d point it out. He lit up and inhaled deeply, turning to ashes a good portion… Continue reading Frames – Trespasser (Sample Fragment 1)

Self-Marketing a Self-Published Novel

Writing a novel is easy. Marketing a novel is hard, especially when you’re not fond of selling yourself or trying to get a stranger to buy a product. It’s a special type of person who not only enjoys enticing people to buy their products, but who can also smile in the face of rejection. I disliked going door-to-door as a young boy and selling things. … Continue reading Self-Marketing a Self-Published Novel

The Frog and the Granite Shore, Part V

Walked I now upon concrete path in town, Crisscrossed here and there with poles of brown, Wires black, and stacks that belched like clowns; Buildings dark and squat gave good Earth an ugly frown; People passed, eyes avert, unsmiling, looking down; I felt no joy on the concrete path in town. Upon hard bench I sat, no music thrilled the air, No child’s laugh or … Continue reading The Frog and the Granite Shore, Part V

On Love and Self

There are stages of love as well as grief. I suspect more people know the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Few people understand that love has stages as well: infatuation, passion, routine (or restless), partnership, companionship. If grief comes about through loss of loved one, where does love come in? Love comes with loss of self, meaning love causes self to become … Continue reading On Love and Self

A Sailor’s Favorite Bar

The Sailor has a favorite bar, in every port of call, A favorite girl too, slender, stout, or tall; I’m no exception to the rule, immemorial in its time, Not so very particular, though her beauty be sublime; My favorite port of call, my favorite among the dozens, Rota Spain and sweet Susanna, and all her pretty cousins; Black hair my green-eyed beauty, and tiny … Continue reading A Sailor’s Favorite Bar