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

No Holds Barred; Poetry by Will

I don’t have the pain of some I know, though Blood flows rather freely from my wounds; Piercing the blister releases the fluid inside as Pressure drains away and brings blessed Relief; no, I tread that rocky, winding path Atop the jagged, knife-edged mountain, the Path that shows me either side at once– Arid on one hand, thick lush vegetation on the Other; occasionally, I … Continue reading No Holds Barred; Poetry by Will

The Filing Cabinet. And a Poem

What began in fellowship of open arms, broad smiles and welcoming words soon fell into routine. The wonder of the inchworm’s humped-back crawl faded as attention drifted elsewhere. Like a prairie dog village, heads sank into oblivious existence as curiosity waned. \ I could not describe the Bavarian village, framed by towering Alpine mountains and last seen as a child, well-enough so you’d know it … Continue reading The Filing Cabinet. And a Poem

Craving – Poetry by Will

Still, unmarred, nothing spoils the tension of its surface; no disturbance in graceful spreading waves, no waterbugs to dance, entrance, engage the eye, no underneath, no rules exactly scribed to guide the cutting shears; Perfect in shape and thickness, intended as a tool, aged in desperate need, useless as a fool; Spilled upon its surface then, in circles, cuts, and symbols, springs from mind, craving-driven … Continue reading Craving – Poetry by Will

Curled Up In You

Curled up in ringlets Electric parts of you, Shoulder length distractions Thoughts are all askew, Hope for sleep abandoned Your pillow’s made for two, Nose to nose connection Our favored point of view. Random touches, random whispers, Fingers playing finders keepers, Hidden fragrance in your smile, Let me breathe you for a while. Chastened by your virtue Encouraged by your sighs Midnight flame rekindled My … Continue reading Curled Up In You

Cast the First Stone

From my amniotic nest I emerge untainted into the cold metallic light and harsh steel voices disconnected from the comforting lullabies that whispered through my forming bones; with the cast of a stone I become a changeling and tremble wailing before those who will taint me with their jealous love and solemn oaths. Some things we learn and some we’re taught, others are innate; defenseless … Continue reading Cast the First Stone

Dancing With Orange Blossoms, Alternating POV / Reality

I’m feeling my way through this “dabbling” in experimental writing.   The last time he visited Barcelona, he was alone. I was dead. He returned to our beloved city knowing he would find pain but hoped the numbness would lift as he remembered me in the neighborhoods of my youth. Instead, he found the city also in mourning. The warm glow of Gaudi’s lanterns had … Continue reading Dancing With Orange Blossoms, Alternating POV / Reality

Pitching Your Novel to Literary Agents

Holy cow, that was fast! I submitted my query letter (and first three pages of my novel) yesterday afternoon about 5:00 pm using Query Manager according to the agent’s submission guidelines. Most agents take weeks, if not months, to respond to a writer’s query. Not this one; by 7:00 pm I had emailed the agent asking for any information about why the agent rejected my … Continue reading Pitching Your Novel to Literary Agents

Status: A Wished-For Love

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

Writing in “The Zone”

God, how I love writing in the zone. That period when your whole mind is so focused on the story that the story absorbs you and you become your protagonist. His emotions are yours, the blood racing through his veins is yours and the poundpoundpound of his heart is the poundpoundpound of your heart. The dialogue pours out, the conversation moves forward, the emotions tear … Continue reading Writing in “The Zone”

Beelzebub – I Lost a Draft!

Somehow I’ve contrived to lose a draft post of a little over 200 words. It’s quite deflating to see a work of two months flushed away into WordlessPress Land and not know how it happened. When I left the draft yesterday evening I felt it was shaping up into something I would be ready to post this weekend. My six verses of lyrics titled “Shake … Continue reading Beelzebub – I Lost a Draft!

On Love: Its Toll and Reward

Love isn’t cheap, although love can be cheapened. Love at any cost exacts an incalculable toll on the human soul. A five-dollar short time will get you love in Olongapo City, but what kind of love is that? Even a ten-dollar long time, an all-nighter, gets you nothing but relief, one more conquest to secure your manhood, and another sea story for the guys at work. Where’s the love? Where’s the … Continue reading On Love: Its Toll and Reward

On Writing, and the Four-Minute Mile

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