Sung to the tune of Hey, Joe Hey, O, where you goin’ with that knife in your hand? Hey, O, I said where you goin’ with that knife in your hand? Oh, I’m goin’ down to stab our brother, Judah You know I caught him defendin his own land. Yeah, I’m goin’ down to knife my old friend Judah’s back You know I caught him … Continue reading Hey, O
We worked at Busch Gardens and saw each other often at the Festhaus. Freyja enchanted me from the beginning. Twenty years old, short blonde hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin, red lips, cherry cheeks: a petite Teutonic Goddess. Freyja worked as a server, while I delivered food and dry goods from the food service warehouse. We were on smiling terms but not much else, although she seemed … Continue reading Fall From Grace
Originally posted on Writing from poetry with a small p.:
The Christmas lights are up in the city and the pavement is glittering. All seems well in the world. I am waiting for my bus at the edge of the river, not staring in, but shivering for the want of warmth. On evenings like this, when the wind cuts up the Liffey channel, the rain,… Continue reading Christmas Lights
Originally posted on Writing from poetry with a small p.:
The first crack of an open door reveals a low lying sun to bathe in. I am glowing, golden, glorious. The winter ground snaps underneath my heel. Soft soil gives way, clinging to my boots. The dog turns about himself, dancing with new found youth. Truth, clear and fresh, like freezing breath, surrounds me. Late… Continue reading Late December
Anna, you’re one of God’s best. Merry Christmas, my dear friend. I wish you a happy and prosperous new year. I am a better person for knowing you. Love, Will Continue reading What I WILL Be Doing Christmas Day
Amen, Mitch. Mitch Teemley My first semester of college I took a lecture hall class called Folklore and Mythology from Dr. Glickman, a rock star educator if there ever was one. At the start of each session, 350 students would hush as Dr. G entered, wind from nowhere ruffling his graying fringe. “A myth is something that cannot be proven,” Dr. G proclaimed, “therefore this … Continue reading Was Mary a Virgin?
Servicemembers we lost in 2016. Share this in their honor. From: http://thefallen.militarytimes.com Senior Chief Petty Officer SCOTT COOPER DAYTON, USN November 24, 2016 42, of Woodbridge, Virginia; assigned to Explosive Ordnance Disposal Mobile Unit Two, died in northern Syria of wounds sustained in an improvised explosive device blast. Staff Sgt. MATTHEW C. LEWELLEN, USA November 4, 2016 27, of Lawrence, Kansas; assigned to the 5th … Continue reading Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, and Airmen We Lost in 2016
Originally posted on The Writings of William C. Pennington:
I love to sit on the rocks at Ka’ena Point, and Wonder at the beauty of the sea; I love to stand atop Old Speck, and Gaze in awe at God’s handiwork about me; I love to lie in the open field Near Spencer Pond at night, and Ponder the vastness of the universe Spreading out… Continue reading I Love To Sit On The Rocks At Ka’ena Point
There is no sound so lovely as the silence of a snowfall, Nor beauty greater than the darkness of a starry winter night. Continue reading There Is No Sound So Lovely
The flow comes when the writer confronts his own heart, peels it back, peers inside, and thinks, “I don’t want to hide that anymore. I want to face the truth.” It’s a painful, mental anguish that either lifts the psychological scars or deepens them. The writer can move on at last, or continue wallowing in the same self pity that has possessed his soul for … Continue reading The Flow
There are times when writing is like a drug. I’m focused. I’m in the zone. The story pours from my mind in a waterfall made of words. I tremble from excitement as I step into the scene. I become the character, I smell the air, hear the traffic, touch her skin, hear her voice. Magic. The spell consumes me. I’m so happy I shed tears. Continue reading The Spell
The Writings of William C. Pennington 