Archive for fiction/poetry

On a Stormy Night

Image
As I listen to the rain spattering against my cabin’s window,
I think of that night when we were stranded here.
The roads were washed out and the creek overflowing,
but I was in your arms , safe, warm, a long-awaited dream.

I saw the lights blink on the alarm clock, the bang on the transmitter.
I smiled, we were alone, you and I , no one would check on us.
I tugged on grandma’s quilt and you tugged back-asleep.
I listened to the sweet sound of your breath, soft, even.

When I awoke, stars glimmered in the window, the clock was flashing.
Darkness still surrounded me, along with your strong, hard arms.
I wanted this night to last forever, the moon seemed satisfied with just a peek at us.
You and I, finally in a place where life brought a freshness-alone, together.

 

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Winter’s Fate

She wiped the tears upon her dress.

“I’ll take no more.” She did confess.

As he stood staring at the sky. He whispered to her, “Darling, why?”

“You leave when autumn’s just begun with furs, and grains and many guns. You stay until the melting snow drives you back home, more crops to grow.”

“I must.” he told her, gun in hand. “to sell our furs and crops again.”

“It does not take four months of cold to travel there and back, I’m told.”She glared at him with angry eyes as clouds approached in autumn’s skies.

“But weather makes the trip back home to dangerous to make alone.” She listened not to his protest, and brushed the dust from her worn dress.

“The children need you, so do I.  I cannot bear to watch one die, the way I did this season past, with no one here to help the rest.”

“I know.” He bowed his ruddy head. “I’ll find some other way instead.”

“John Griffith takes the trail nearby.” She told him through her misty eyes.

“Then I will ask if he will go, with me, through ice and cold and snow.” He walked to her, the children came. They gathered there, out of the rain.

“Tomorrow, I will go to town and look until I hunt him down.” He smiled and drew her near his chest.

She felt the heat of his warm breath, and knew this winter, they would stay, but not alone, sick and afraid.

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Stranger in the Night

DSCN2196She sat shivering under the thin cape beneath the glow of the gas light, tears trailing down her cheeks. She felt no one cared whether she lived or died, or for that matter, even existed. As she looked around the corner, she saw a well dressed man approaching her. A chill of fear went through her as he approached. He reached down and placed a handful of currency in her tattered glove. “The bells of St. Brigit’s are calling tonight.” he quietly spoke. “What does that mean?” she spoke to herself. She stood up, wiped her tears and realized someone did care. She just wondered who it was.

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Your Inner Soul

 Vintage Music Paper Butterflies

My love, It seems I have known you forever.

I smile as I imagine that I can read your thoughts.

Who else could pick that special jewelry,

Your favorite color or dessert,

The outfit you would pick from your closet,

to catch a second glances at an important party?

Would it be daffodils or autumn leaves,

Soaring mountains or the roar of waves,

that made your heart leap in joy?

There is but one thing I am desperate for,

My love, that you have kept secret.

So please give me, finally-man of my dreams,

a glimpse inside your inner soul.

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Now I Know….

DSCN2081After the darkness,

Blue skies surround me

Clouds drift on the horizon

Drifting away at last

Every day is different

Fresh and exciting.

Gladly, I look for

Hovering bees and bugs

Ice melted at last.

Just one warm day

Keeps me hoping

Long after cold returns

Moonlight sparkles

Night times stars

Overhead-your head and mine.

Perhaps I treasure nature

Questioning it’s rhythms

Reining in its surprises

Turning from chill to warmth

Until I come upon the first

Violet, a sure sign of spring.

Wonder if other over it as much

X-citined as I am

You may know-tell me

Zestfully smiling.

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What You Could Be

What You Could Be

I look at him, same age as you,

when death snatched you out of the blue.

He’s just 15, but teachers say,

that he will make it big one day.

I touch your photo, hold it too,

each time I pass, your place, your room.

It looks just like it did that day

when Hell took you and life away.

I see him grow, a brilliant smile,

when he creates, he dreams, compiles.

The things I wish that you could see.

I wonder, Babe, what you could be?

It’s just so wrong that you aren’t here.

I see your face, your eyes, your fear.

Still, no one knows, but you and me,

The truth about what you could be.

I pray the day will not be long,

When something might take up the wrong.

And somehow just, please let me see.

The beauty of what you could be.

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Autumn Morning (haiku)

pink ripples drift above

autumn has come at last

the last asters bloom

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Tag Line -Nature and Nurture

I felt this prompt was one i could respond to, even in my current state of mind.

Who I am is very simple, a mom, a lover of nature, a writer of thoughts and feelings.

I have always loved children.  I would playing with thee children I babysat for at no charge, just so their mom’s could work in the garden, go to the store or just sit down with a book for a minute.
I have been a mom since I was 19 years old.  I had six wonderful healthy kids, before one was taken suddenly with no warning. I will always feel lack of prompt medical attention from 911 killed him. bur that is another story. I now have 6 grandkids and one on the way. Since I became ill because of the stress of loosing my son, I haven’t gotten to be the kind of “fun” grandmother I imagined, but I manage to do quite a bit anyway.

I grew up in a semi-rural area.  My grandparents farm was next door.  From the time I was a toddler, i could say the names of plants, tell “weeds” from planted crops, and enjoyed gardening.  Throughout my often difficult life, nature studies and gardening have brought peace to my often troubled soul.

Fro the time I was in second grade, when I needed to find a way to express my feelings, I would pick up that pencil and paper and left my thoughts flow.  Through the frustrations of teen years, to the challenges of single motherhood, to the beauty of our great nation,I

have recorded my thoughts and feelings through stories, poetry and prose.

I majored in Public History in college and was able to complete a wonderful record of my families genealogy.  Because my grandparents lived into their 90′s, we were able to identify most of the old photos family members had stored i boxes long ago.  These have become a family treasure that I have been privileged to share.

My imaginary tag line will always be”-beebeesworld-lover of life and learning”.

By the way, Beebee is what my grand kids call me.

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Dream Chaser

I think about death a lot.

About my son, my mom, my neighbor.

I think about how easy it would be

to not deal with all this crap any more.

As I sit , trying to catch up on emails,

my heart starts to pound, I feel sick, shaking.

I wonder if the death angel has come for me.

It scares me more than I thought it would.

It lasted a long time, sweating, panting.

I miss my son and mom and others.

I wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t stayed here.

I wonder why I had to stay here when my son left.

And I see the dream chaser I made

For my grand kids today and think, “Maybe I know.”

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Time Travel

Copyright - Danny Bowman

“I must be dreaming!” I said to myself as I walked around the corner of the old brick building and saw the aging phone booth.

“I haven’t seen one of those in years!” Cell phones had pretty much sent phone booths the way of the dinosaur.

Even though I never had the cause to use them much, they did hold a sweet ring of nostalgia.

I walked up to the phone booth, running my finger over the fading red paint on the surrounding box. I smiled as I saw the push button dial, even with the buttons, it seemed quaint.

“What? 50 cents?” I sighed. I looked up to see the modern building and knew I was in the present time after all.

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