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
Black or white or blue Observed without reference Unframed, unafraid Continue reading Frames
There is an intensity behind this writing that pulls me in. Maybe I identify with the writer’s honesty or with the topics. Whatever it is, I can’t stop reading and want to read more. I think you will too. Please read and share this writing and the thought that makes it possible. Add this site to your list of sites followed; you won’t be disappointed … Continue reading Reblog: Infinity Undone — The Birth Of Love
You left me in darkness when you went away. Even now, light dims when I think of you. I’m left with the nearly eternal absence of light because my thoughts are of you between the dawn and dusk of day. I am most alive when I dream of you for dreams are of what we were and what we should have been. The sun rises and shares … Continue reading One
Thank you so much for reading along and supporting my effort. This novel is thirty years in the making and has been a journey of remembrance, blood, sweat, and tears. Most of the characters are based on real people. Tom’s and Sam’s Susanna was my girlfriend when I was stationed in Spain; yes, she died. Aida was a girlfriend in the Philippines. Lek was an acquaintance in … Continue reading Status: A Wished-For Love
Roger Bannister, the first athlete to break the four-minute mile, said this about his record-breaking run: “The world seemed to stand still, or did not exist. The only reality was the next 200 yards of track under my feet. The tape meant finality–extinction perhaps. I felt at that moment that it was my chance to do one thing supremely well. I drove on, impelled by … Continue reading On Writing, and the Four-Minute Mile
I remember the night I fell for you, our romance and a lifetime of nightlong dreams. The dreams where you whisper so close to me, seeding memories inside my mind. And when I awake I think you are there and reach up to touch you but clutch empty air, then flinch from the gut punch when I know you’re a spirit and gone. I fall … Continue reading Of Love and Moonsweat
This post from Ana. P. Rose inspired me. Art is truth. Telling the truth is art. When the rejections roll in and it seems like nobody likes your story; when it seems like your work is going nowhere; when you feel like giving up and smashing the keyboard, remember you are an artist and you are writing the truth. Van Gogh’s success came only after … Continue reading Dear Artists, by Ana P. Rose
Your fragrance often wafts into my head guided by the metaphysical pinings of two souls and the bond between spirits not tethered to temporal moorings. Mortal boundaries span six feet of earthly separation but the heavenly plane exists within our senses. Comforting, that thought, and breathing your scent brings thoughts of your heaven wafting through my mind. For heaven is where you took me taking … Continue reading Of Love and Fragrance
I found this poignant. You need to know yourself in order to know your voice. What I mean by “finding your truth” is not of a doctrinal nature, but simply uncovering your conviction as a communicator. via Finding your Truth — beard with a blog Continue reading On Writing: Finding your Truth, from timholman, beard with a blog
I cut a rose and placed it in a vase. The room became brighter and fresher. The sentence didn’t read right. A different word gave the story new meaning. A boy fell into an epileptic fit. Ignored, until another boy placed a stick between his teeth. The weight of the world breaks my heart. I push the dark away and bask in the warmth of … Continue reading Small Gestures
I feel so much satisfaction watching the word count grow in the little story flowing from my pen. This joyful enterprise, this crafting of a universe built from memories of a lifetime. This imaginary world I have peopled with those I’ve grown up with, played, schooled, worshiped, worked, and served with. Decorated with scenes that have thrilled my eyes and my mind and lifted my … Continue reading My Little Story
I knew you had something on your mind When you had nothing much to say; When you spoke I could feel the worry, You nearly lost your way; I read the breath between your words For what I hoped I wouldn’t find; There’s always something left unsaid When we’re trying not to be unkind. I searched the places in your head Where you run from … Continue reading The Breath Between Her Words
Your heart is a sheet of cold, thin ice; Spider cracks zigzag among open veins; Eggshells scatter before my footsteps; On my toes, I step between the cracks and crush the eggshells with my heels. I peel away onionskin layers of you; Vaporous particles explode into my eyes; They stick to fingers and leave them numb; With steel razor taut in my fist, I scrape … Continue reading Mornings, A Halloween Tale
In the café, two tables away sat the woman Of my dreams, occupied reading a book; Silhouette in black, turning dog-eared leaves; I noted the dip of Cupid’s Bow, The gentle curve of her nose; The graceful line of her neck made My pulse beat double-quick; Leaning in, one elbow on the table, She lifted her coffee cup. I felt his eyes as I sipped … Continue reading Café of Nerves
Maine Street, and the town gazebo sits empty in the dark; The tower of the old parish church rises like my heart Above the ancient pines that line the lone road home; The college, whose yellow light-filled windows reflect The yearning of the young for the wisdom of the old, is quiet; Bowdoin Chapel tolls the hour and my watch softly chimes The same as … Continue reading The Gazebo
I thought until death do us part meant one of us would cry At the loneliness we’d feel when our lover had just died; I never thought it meant that the love we shared might fly, That you’d run away from me instead of walking by my side. I thought that love and marriage meant forever and a day; How could I have known your … Continue reading Love Lost
Reposted from 2015 My mind is soothed by the sight of the sea, and the sound of her waves breaking upon the ancient, granite bones of this world. My skin is caressed with a blanket of fragrance laid upon me by the smells of the sea. The call of the deep tugs at my heart and beckons, “Listen to my voice.” I am terrified by … Continue reading The Sea and Me
Playfully, we spoke the words, “until death do us part,” She laughed, and her smile tugged at my heart, Will you love me in sickness and in health, she asked, Yes, my love, will you love me in poverty and in wealth? Of course, she said, her head tilted to one side, I’ll love you, you know, beyond the end of time; She turned her … Continue reading Susanna XI
I lose hope when I spend too much time reading the news. I despair of mankind living in peace and harmony. I despair of the world we are leaving our grandchildren. I gain hope and confidence when I turn off the news. I walk outside and see a world bigger than our differences. My spirits lift and soar when I walk among people and the … Continue reading Apples
I’m not a fan of monopolies no matter how convenient they make shopping, or how cheap they can sell products. Progress is good in many ways, but the easier it is to do things from a computer – shopping – the less time we spend interacting with others. It’s the same dilemma we find ourselves facing with cell phones. The computer and cell phone are … Continue reading Convenience
I can’t count the times I’ve been asked by a writer to provide “an honest” critique or review of his work. Invariably, I think to myself, “What? I’m going to give you a dishonest review? I’m going to lie to you?” I think what they mean is they don’t want me to spare their feelings. I never ask for an honest critique. Last month, I … Continue reading A Wished-For Love, Second Beta Review
Aida was the one all along, Susanna. Yes, Tomás. She has given me the half of my heart I buried with you. Yes, Tomás. I knew love would come to you again. I grieved so long for you, Susanna. Yes, Tomás. Too long. Aida makes me feel like you and I are together again. I know, Tomás. I can’t bring you back, Susanna, so I … Continue reading Susanna X
Writer’s dilemmas are a part of writing. They occur with every well-thought out novel. If you don’t find yourself boxed in somehow, then you probably have not written a plot complex enough to grab the reader and hold her attention. Plots should resemble life in its complexities. They need twists and turns, unexpected outcomes, surprises, and falls from cliffs with protagonists clinging by fingertips to … Continue reading Write Tight
Golden fields stretch far, Rolling hills studded with rocky ledge; My fingers brush the fibrous Beards of breezy strands Tapping at my legs; Behind me the reaper Harvests ripened grains. I move apace, steady on For looming edge. Continue reading Grains
Character may falter, but forgiveness never forgets. Continue reading Character
I grip it with my toes That phantasmagoric line between living and dying Behind rise the hairs on my neck Ahead my heart pumps furiously To live is to die Yet I am not finished living I grip the precipice with my toes When I stop living I will die. Precipice Continue reading Precipice
Walking though the city, another set of footsteps in the crowd Peering in the crystal panes, another reflection of the proud Standing out is difficult when you’re just another face The crowd doesn’t notice you, they’re in the same rat maze. Maze Continue reading Daily Post Prompt: Maze
Is she the one, Susanna? I do not know, Tomás You must know, Susanna. Why, Tomás? She makes me think of you. She is not me. I want you back, Susanna. I’m dead, Tomás. You died too soon. Yes. Why? Why? Tell me. It was my time to die. It isn’t fair. Life is not always fair. Sasi makes me feel the way you did. … Continue reading Susanna IX
One day, close to tax-filing deadline, dad was sitting on the edge of his bed. He was sorting W-2 forms. There must have been twenty of them. Maybe more. Twenty jobs. Five children to feed and clothe. Dad was the ninth of ten kids. He was born in the middle of the depression. I never knew we were poor. Continue reading Rich
Lying in the grass Jasmine and pine Gently, I stroke his soft, black fur Night shadows hide the gray muzzle A loon calls Stars twinkle steadily Continue reading Yoshi
When she ailed Dependent child, you Moved back home To care for her Free room and board But doomed to toil O woe is me You cried and sighed O poor dear child My helpful soul, She prayed your aid Was not in vain I’m sorry Child Should I linger Lest your burdens grow In toil for me. O woe is me You cried and … Continue reading O Woe
The thought occurred to me a few minutes ago that I wouldn’t know how to respond if I were asked to describe myself in one sentence. Oprah: “Welcome Will, and congratulations on the publication of your Great American Novel, A Wished-For Love, debuting at number one on the NYT, LAT, ChiTrib, WSJ, Sing Sing, and Tampa Bay Voc. Tech High School Best Sellers Lists! What an … Continue reading In One Sentence
Funny that, how the heart bursts the same way in grief and love. Continue reading Heartbrache
Leaving the anger-filled pages of Facebook and Twitter and coming to my WordPress blog, is like finding a sun-dappled forest glade, and lying with my back against an oak tree, chewing on a blade of grass, and listening to the leaves rustling in the breeze. WordPress Reader is my sun-dappled forest glade, and your posts are the leaves. Your emotions, expressed in prose and poem, … Continue reading I Am Here
I have a difficult time accepting the pseudo-intellectual elite’s (let us call them PIEs) rants against the President. They, as all American citizens, have the right to speak out in protest against his policies. They are as affected by decisions made in Washington, DC as the ninety-nine percent of Americans not making millions of dollars every year to act, sing and dance, track your online movements, … Continue reading PIE-holes
Like two red eyes, the imperfections in the ruby blinked in the sunlight. He pressed the jeweled medallion to his chest to keep it from swinging on the necklace. The sun burned his back as he walked along the rock-strewn beach hunched over looking for seashells. The best ones he placed in a red, plastic cup that smelled of San Miguel. “Look, Aida.” he called. … Continue reading Sam and Susanna & Tom and Aida
“Because they understand that love is the gift of giving one’s self unreservedly to another; that the giving of love is also the receiving of love, and that the spiritual renewal from the physical act is possible only after the giving up of self to one another.” “I love you, William.” “I love you, Susanna.” Continue reading Love is….
I am surrounded by nincowpoops, maroons, and gullibulls. Of course, I realize the guy sitting next to me is saying the same thing. Continue reading Looney Tuned
Sam and Susanna Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam They say you don’t hear the bullet that kills you. How could anyone know that? Because, they also say, bullets move faster than the speed of sound. By the time you hear the sound of the bullet in your back, you’re dead. What if you’re only wounded; you’d hear that bullet, wouldn’t you? Well, you’re not dead, are … Continue reading Invocation
I’m not too keen on today’s technology. I love having the library at my fingertips, the history of Rock and Roll on my iPod, and The Great Masters’ masterpieces as my background. Sometimes, though, I feel technology advances too fast, too fast for people to keep up. Technology has made us run when we should walk, look down when we should look up, ignore others … Continue reading Superman
Many summers ago, I went to a church picnic at Rowlette Park in Tampa. I was about thirteen or so. We played softball while the burgers and dogs were cooking. I was a pretty good baseball player and played little league throughout my youth. I wasn’t a pitcher, but a first baseman and centerfielder. I played catcher once when Robbie Ochs was sick, but didn’t … Continue reading Duck
We have been encouraged from our youth to lead from the front, or, in Navy terms, to “take charge and carry out the plan of the day.” It is also phrased “Lead, follow, or get out of the way.” I agree, for the most part. The best reason to lead from the front is to achieve a goal, whether a personal goal, a corporate goal, … Continue reading Leave The Pack
“We had each other, yes, but even that doesn’t describe what we had. We didn’t choose each other, Frank. We found each other. It’s hard to explain.” Sam leaned forward in his seat. He stared at the floor. His hands were clasped, and he trembled. “There could only be one Susanna, Frank. My life began when I met her.” He fell silent as he collected … Continue reading Dream, Love.
I Love you, you love me not. Continue reading Heartbreak
I’ve had it with Facebook. It’s become a forum for posting garbage that nobody gives a damn about. For every decent post and photo my friends post, I have to sift through dozens of other posts that carry the message “I hate you and what you stand for.” I’m tired of photos of women wearing body parts costumes; I’m tired of posts that reinforce the hypocrisy … Continue reading I’ve Had It With Facebook
I don’t often listen to music while I write. I find it distracting. It isn’t that I don’t like music, indeed, I love music and have rather eclectic tastes. I enjoy most genres. My music of choice while writing though, is silence. Silence has its own sound. The sound of the story taking shape in my mind. When I write and enter “the zone,” I … Continue reading Writing Music, or, Music to Write By
William? Yes, Susanna? Why are people so angry? Why are people so angry? Yes. Why are people so angry? Why do you ask, Susanna? Because, William, I see angry people everywhere, and it hurts me. How does it hurt you? Anger hurts my heart. Why does it hurt your heart? Because anger gets in the way of love, William. It does, Susanna? Yes, William. How … Continue reading Susanna Avila VII
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
Writers Envy 