A beautiful day here! Blue skies and temperatures around 11C ( that’s around 50ish in Americanese ). The fall colours are breathtaking, but I will have to pull out the rake sooner or later. Preferably later. I came home from work, ( yes, I am an A type workaholic ) and rushed out to the garden. I slashed back everything! I was dressed for the weather, but suddenly realized that I was NOT dressed for the work! Got a tad sweaty, so I thought I would take a run to the wine store to find a naughty lil bottle of Merlot for some later scribblings in the sun. Well what do you know! I found some Rogue beer! Honestly! Well, I couldn’t resist. Oh,, I also bought a little bottle of the naughtiess Merlot you can buy.
People are out walking babies and dogs. Didn’t see many walking cats though. Go figure. Lots of overweight people in Spandex doing the “speedwalkies” thing. Spandex should be outlawed for anyone over the age of 21.
The back yard now looks kinda barren and forlorn. I may have been a tad zealous there. The squirrels have quizzical looks on their faces as though asking me, “ what the hell ya do man???” Screw them, they only drive Queen Daisy nuts! Did I mention our Daisy? A Maltese, all of maybe 5 pounds and the attitude of a Rottweiler. She rules Castle Rogue with an iron fist.
I have been marinating a pork roast in the fridge since this morning. I think Daisy can smell it. She constantly looks at the fridge with an orgasmic expression. I have the weirdest dog on the planet. I should get back to that Louise Penny novel I have been trying hard to read. Where does the time go? Ok, time to get the roast in. I cut all the herb garden back today, so no shortage of fresh herbs here. Toodles kids, see you all soon!
Monday, October 11, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
October
The river runs coldon these autumnal morns,
majestic Maples
leaves stripped and torn;
bear witness to November,
the sleety scorn
winters icy dribble,
the carcass of the fuschia,
laid bare and forlorn.
Scarlet and gold
reign in the wood.
the world in hushed silence,
watch nature unfold;
as surely it should,
and while the forest folk forage,
Mother Natures’ brood,
the dens are prepared,
laden with pine cones and ferns,
all manner of food.
And into dreams
once again shall they dwell,
till the cruel winters winds,
have left hillside and dell,
and return them once more,
forever to dwell,
the cycle of life,
having drunk deep from the well.
Unto every season,
the poets say;
Unto every reason,
Unto every way.
Unto every new field,
Unto every new foray,
Unto every life,
Unto every day,
the only constant is, in fact, change.
My submission for Magpie Tales resting here
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Lantern, A Magpie Tale
Allison? Oh Allison, I’m so sorry. I remember my promise to keep myself safe. And I remember your promise to keep a light burning till I returned. Oh God Allison, what has become of us?
France was a dreadful place. I sat for days in mud and bloated bodies with not a thought but the flame that burned, and would herald my return home. I watched the vermin devour my fallen comrades with wild abandon, unable to move, as the shells fell and remembering my promise to stay safe. Hell on earth. Our only orders, “dig in”. Forgive me Allison. My thoughts were only of you and baby McCalister. The smell of blood and earth and sulphur smoke cloud my senses and dispose me in a sea of despair. Forgive me Allison. We were huddled in a mud filled hole. A blinding light, soundless.
And I find myself here, before your window. Oh God Allison, I will not return. Can you forgive me? I will love you always, but I will never be able to be your lover. Please tell McCalister about his father. In Him, I live. Can you hear me Allison? Allison? I see the glass and the brass, but my love, where is the flame?
Written for Magpie Tales #34 which is found here
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Vertigo
I dared to dream the dreams of Icaras and Daedalus. The folly of youth and the brilliance of the times ordained us as Gods. To soar on warm summer winds and caress the heavens; to seek out the face of the almighty; this was our anointed task. To this end, we became relentless in our studies. The hours spent observing the hawk and falcon; grace and speedy death. We studied the master. The great Leonardo. I was enraptured by his works. I sought to build on this brilliance. And through diligence and intense scrutiny to the smallest detail, I was utterly convinced of my success where all else had failed.
July had been kind to the farmers in allowing the crops to grow in wondrous abandon. On that day, as I climbed the tower, the burden of my contraption weighing heavy on my shoulders, my exuberation lifting me unworldly plains, I gazed upward. Higher and higher still. I must touch the clouds, for only in touching them, will they receive me and give me their benediction.
Higher still, till at once I stood at the precipice. My gaze drifted downward and dizziness overtook me. I steadied myself against the braces of willow and oak that formed this fortress that reached high into the heavens and braced myself against the rush of a hot July wind. Below me, farmers tilled the fields of lavender, blue and mauve; unknown crops tilled in unknown fields by unknown farmers, unaware of what was about to transpire high above them.
My exhilaration knew no bounds as I quickly attached the straps and moved toward the edge. In me, the dreams of Icarus, Daedalus and Leonardo would come to fruition. I fell forward and felt the pull of the wind beneath my wings and I soared! Tears flooded my eyes as the beauty overtook my senses and I became one with the summer sky; as surely as the majestic eagle. Downward I soared. In my vanity, as Icaras had tried to soar to high to touch the sun, I soared low so to as impress those nameless famers in nameless fields.
Lower, faster, lower still. I could not lift without ripping the very wings that had brought me to this. I was done! And into a field of lavender my body smashed. Its sweet perfume mingling with my blood. I lay there dazed till an unknown farmer, tilling an unknown field came upon me and brought me to an unknown farmhouse. The smell of lavender lingers in my senses and shall ever be I fear. But the dream of Icaras remains.
And now, in this painting you view, it is I, and my dog Leonardo that stands to the left on the road and stares up to the spire to witness challenge of the brave and the fool hearty. And the nameless farmers, tilling nameless fields of lavender, blue and mauve go about their business…
This was written for The Inferno’s Coxswain “Vertigo” theme where an artist from The Artist Challenge is asked to choose one of their pieces of art and the writers interpret it in words. You may find Ray Shuells painting here as well as the entire Vertigo collection.
July had been kind to the farmers in allowing the crops to grow in wondrous abandon. On that day, as I climbed the tower, the burden of my contraption weighing heavy on my shoulders, my exuberation lifting me unworldly plains, I gazed upward. Higher and higher still. I must touch the clouds, for only in touching them, will they receive me and give me their benediction.
Higher still, till at once I stood at the precipice. My gaze drifted downward and dizziness overtook me. I steadied myself against the braces of willow and oak that formed this fortress that reached high into the heavens and braced myself against the rush of a hot July wind. Below me, farmers tilled the fields of lavender, blue and mauve; unknown crops tilled in unknown fields by unknown farmers, unaware of what was about to transpire high above them.
My exhilaration knew no bounds as I quickly attached the straps and moved toward the edge. In me, the dreams of Icarus, Daedalus and Leonardo would come to fruition. I fell forward and felt the pull of the wind beneath my wings and I soared! Tears flooded my eyes as the beauty overtook my senses and I became one with the summer sky; as surely as the majestic eagle. Downward I soared. In my vanity, as Icaras had tried to soar to high to touch the sun, I soared low so to as impress those nameless famers in nameless fields.
Lower, faster, lower still. I could not lift without ripping the very wings that had brought me to this. I was done! And into a field of lavender my body smashed. Its sweet perfume mingling with my blood. I lay there dazed till an unknown farmer, tilling an unknown field came upon me and brought me to an unknown farmhouse. The smell of lavender lingers in my senses and shall ever be I fear. But the dream of Icaras remains.
And now, in this painting you view, it is I, and my dog Leonardo that stands to the left on the road and stares up to the spire to witness challenge of the brave and the fool hearty. And the nameless farmers, tilling nameless fields of lavender, blue and mauve go about their business…
This was written for The Inferno’s Coxswain “Vertigo” theme where an artist from The Artist Challenge is asked to choose one of their pieces of art and the writers interpret it in words. You may find Ray Shuells painting here as well as the entire Vertigo collection.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Deja vu (or the ongoing saga of Fred and Doris)
Fred looked resplendent as he lovingly gazed at his reflection in the hallway mirror. “Yessiree, today is the day I luck out and snag that new fishing lure down at Walmart!”
His red and yellow Argyle socks seductively clung to his hairy calves. The toes were a tad thread bare as was obvious from the sandals he wore. His hunter green shorts, with the gazillion utility pockets, cinched quite nicely with a faux alligator belt, and topped with fire engine red suspenders managed to magically transplant his waist so that it now lay somewhere just below his man-boobies. His John Deere tee shirt felt a little snug around his ham sized biceps and those damned shorts were starting to ride high again! Oh well, just a small tug, and it will be fine.
“Hey Doris, you coming or what?”
“For goodness sakes Fred, hold your horses! I am just putting on my face!”
Fred frowned as he thought maybe it would be easier for Doris if he got her a spatula to put on her make up. But he had once said that to her a few years back with rather dire results, and the memory of the swollen eye returned to haunt him, so he let it slide.
Fred grabbed his lucky cap; the one that was embossed with “Old Fart” on the front, and slapped it on his thigh to remove the dust. Then he gingerly placed it over his magnificently coiffed comb-over with great care so as not to disturb his “do”. There! The ensemble complete, he was ready to hit Walmart with all the vim and vigor of a kid at Toys R Us!
Doris exited the bathroom with a gasp! “Fred! Did you forget something?”
Fred looked at Doris quizzically.
“What do you mean? I got all my lucky clothes on, and you know Doris, if I do say so myself you might have to watch them ladies there at Walmart. They may be wanting to steal your man away from you!”
Fred gave a broad, toothless smile.
“There!” said Doris, “that’s exactly what I mean! Where the hell are your teeth Fred?”
“Oh, right here in my pocket. No worries, I will put them in before we hit the MacDonalds at Walmart.”
“You will do nothing of the sort Fred! Put em in NOW!”.
Fred frowned.
“You know Doris, I don’t appreciate your tone here. I will put them in when we get there, and that’s that!”
Fred watched as Doris trudged dishearteningly off towards the kitchen and disappeared out of sight. Fred returned to the mirror for another admiring glance.
Doris called out from the kitchen, “Fred, can I see you for a sec honey?”
The last thing remembered as he entered the kitchen was a dark spherical object approaching his face at lightning speed, then total darkness. As the light slowly returned, he saw Doris sitting at the kitchen table.
“Now Fred, about your teeth.”
Fred clawed his way to the bathroom and slowly looked into the mirror as he withdrew his dentures from his pocket. Across his forehead was emblazoned “laF-T” As he stared into the mirror, an eerie feeling surrounded him.
“God lord! I have seen that mark before, I swear! This here must be one of them deejer voodoo things ya always hear about! Wait till Oprah hears about this!”
For The Inferno's theme of Deja vu or as Fred sees it Deejer Voodoo
His red and yellow Argyle socks seductively clung to his hairy calves. The toes were a tad thread bare as was obvious from the sandals he wore. His hunter green shorts, with the gazillion utility pockets, cinched quite nicely with a faux alligator belt, and topped with fire engine red suspenders managed to magically transplant his waist so that it now lay somewhere just below his man-boobies. His John Deere tee shirt felt a little snug around his ham sized biceps and those damned shorts were starting to ride high again! Oh well, just a small tug, and it will be fine.
“Hey Doris, you coming or what?”
“For goodness sakes Fred, hold your horses! I am just putting on my face!”
Fred frowned as he thought maybe it would be easier for Doris if he got her a spatula to put on her make up. But he had once said that to her a few years back with rather dire results, and the memory of the swollen eye returned to haunt him, so he let it slide.
Fred grabbed his lucky cap; the one that was embossed with “Old Fart” on the front, and slapped it on his thigh to remove the dust. Then he gingerly placed it over his magnificently coiffed comb-over with great care so as not to disturb his “do”. There! The ensemble complete, he was ready to hit Walmart with all the vim and vigor of a kid at Toys R Us!
Doris exited the bathroom with a gasp! “Fred! Did you forget something?”
Fred looked at Doris quizzically.
“What do you mean? I got all my lucky clothes on, and you know Doris, if I do say so myself you might have to watch them ladies there at Walmart. They may be wanting to steal your man away from you!”
Fred gave a broad, toothless smile.
“There!” said Doris, “that’s exactly what I mean! Where the hell are your teeth Fred?”
“Oh, right here in my pocket. No worries, I will put them in before we hit the MacDonalds at Walmart.”
“You will do nothing of the sort Fred! Put em in NOW!”.
Fred frowned.
“You know Doris, I don’t appreciate your tone here. I will put them in when we get there, and that’s that!”
Fred watched as Doris trudged dishearteningly off towards the kitchen and disappeared out of sight. Fred returned to the mirror for another admiring glance.
Doris called out from the kitchen, “Fred, can I see you for a sec honey?”
The last thing remembered as he entered the kitchen was a dark spherical object approaching his face at lightning speed, then total darkness. As the light slowly returned, he saw Doris sitting at the kitchen table.
“Now Fred, about your teeth.”
Fred clawed his way to the bathroom and slowly looked into the mirror as he withdrew his dentures from his pocket. Across his forehead was emblazoned “laF-T” As he stared into the mirror, an eerie feeling surrounded him.
“God lord! I have seen that mark before, I swear! This here must be one of them deejer voodoo things ya always hear about! Wait till Oprah hears about this!”
For The Inferno's theme of Deja vu or as Fred sees it Deejer Voodoo
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Affectionate Anarchy - Painters Block
I was born of evil
Born in a cauldron of hate
Suckled on mistrust
My hunger so great,
Satiated in lust
Loins afire
Turning colour to dust
Turn cold the artists’ desire
Lay the canvas bare
Raped and torn
Break brushes and palettes
Leave them broken and forlorn
I am the destroyer
I am that which you dread
In your life, in your love,
In the dreams in your head
Embrace me now
It was never your calling
I have shown you the way
Its beauty enthralling
Will you love me now
And renew your vow
I have taken it all
And yet you question “how”
It was you that sacrificed it
As on a pagan alter
It was you that saw excellence
It was you that faltered
I was the instrument
But you were the crime
Your self loathing
Disgusting and sublime
Will you love me now
Only this I ask
I have always loved you
Does that sound sad, forlorn and crass?
Return to your art
Its beauty enrapture
Its gaunt still life
Forever captured
Forgive my insolence, my unknowing eye
Absolution, your tender heart
The expanse of your love
The expanse of your art
Born to hurt, it pains me
Your colours must live
I block your creativity
Idle your art, without reprieve;
Till at last
You push past me.
Take up the brush,
At last you see
Tho an anarchist I am,
I do so affectionately.
I originally wrote this piece with the concept of artists block. As writers have writers block; then so must artists from time to time. The greatest anarchist we face daily is our own minds that control our creativity. But generally, I have found that after the drought, come the floods. Ergo, the anarchist becomes the giver. My submission for The Inferno.
Born in a cauldron of hate
Suckled on mistrust
My hunger so great,
Satiated in lust
Loins afire
Turning colour to dust
Turn cold the artists’ desire
Lay the canvas bare
Raped and torn
Break brushes and palettes
Leave them broken and forlorn
I am the destroyer
I am that which you dread
In your life, in your love,
In the dreams in your head
Embrace me now
It was never your calling
I have shown you the way
Its beauty enthralling
Will you love me now
And renew your vow
I have taken it all
And yet you question “how”
It was you that sacrificed it
As on a pagan alter
It was you that saw excellence
It was you that faltered
I was the instrument
But you were the crime
Your self loathing
Disgusting and sublime
Will you love me now
Only this I ask
I have always loved you
Does that sound sad, forlorn and crass?
Return to your art
Its beauty enrapture
Its gaunt still life
Forever captured
Forgive my insolence, my unknowing eye
Absolution, your tender heart
The expanse of your love
The expanse of your art
Born to hurt, it pains me
Your colours must live
I block your creativity
Idle your art, without reprieve;
Till at last
You push past me.
Take up the brush,
At last you see
Tho an anarchist I am,
I do so affectionately.
I originally wrote this piece with the concept of artists block. As writers have writers block; then so must artists from time to time. The greatest anarchist we face daily is our own minds that control our creativity. But generally, I have found that after the drought, come the floods. Ergo, the anarchist becomes the giver. My submission for The Inferno.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Lucky Charm
He came to with a sputter. The memory of the preceding moments rushed back as his heart beat wildly; blood gushing from the gaping wound to his head. Having avoided running over the raccoon, he now found himself lying sideways in a ditch on a godforsaken country road. He slowly reached out to the St Christopher medal, now hanging to the side of his rear view mirror.
“Please God, don’t let me die.”
“Do you really believe that will help?”
His eyes widened in fear at the sound of a voice in the car with him.
“Who’s there? Who are you?”
“I am known by many names. But it’s enough that I know yours and your situation. Are you afraid? Does holding that medallion and praying to your God help?”
Through blood blurred eyes he strained to see the face of the voice that taunted him from the back. He reeled in shock at the sight!
“Oh, do stop staring. It’s rude! You know perfectly well who I am. Did you believe that I would appear with horns and carrying a pitchfork? And you believe that angels have wings and play harps, right? I know all about angels. I am one myself. But then, you must have known that. Would you like me to remove all your pain? I can if you wish. But then, I think you would accept nothing from me. You clutch that medallion and believe in metal and forgotten saints.”
His mind reeled. This must be some sort of hallucination from the head injury.
“Of course it’s not an hallucination! Don’t think such silly thoughts. I simply enjoy dropping in at opportune moments to see how little mankind has progressed. I really have no idea why God spared you at all. You are small and insignificant. Oh well, I suppose that he enjoys the praise. Quite vain; don’t you think?”
He watched as a smile filled the face of absolute evil.
“Nothing to say then? Oh very well. To be honest, you are rather boring. There is a young famer and his wife approaching. They will find you and take you to the hospital where you will be mended. But remember this it had nothing to do with that silly medallion you hold so tightly in your hand! God did not answer your prayers! It is simply fate that you face now. Lucky charms do not exist! If they did, I would not exist! And I do, don’t I…………”
“Please God, don’t let me die.”
“Do you really believe that will help?”
His eyes widened in fear at the sound of a voice in the car with him.
“Who’s there? Who are you?”
“I am known by many names. But it’s enough that I know yours and your situation. Are you afraid? Does holding that medallion and praying to your God help?”
Through blood blurred eyes he strained to see the face of the voice that taunted him from the back. He reeled in shock at the sight!
“Oh, do stop staring. It’s rude! You know perfectly well who I am. Did you believe that I would appear with horns and carrying a pitchfork? And you believe that angels have wings and play harps, right? I know all about angels. I am one myself. But then, you must have known that. Would you like me to remove all your pain? I can if you wish. But then, I think you would accept nothing from me. You clutch that medallion and believe in metal and forgotten saints.”
His mind reeled. This must be some sort of hallucination from the head injury.
“Of course it’s not an hallucination! Don’t think such silly thoughts. I simply enjoy dropping in at opportune moments to see how little mankind has progressed. I really have no idea why God spared you at all. You are small and insignificant. Oh well, I suppose that he enjoys the praise. Quite vain; don’t you think?”
He watched as a smile filled the face of absolute evil.
“Nothing to say then? Oh very well. To be honest, you are rather boring. There is a young famer and his wife approaching. They will find you and take you to the hospital where you will be mended. But remember this it had nothing to do with that silly medallion you hold so tightly in your hand! God did not answer your prayers! It is simply fate that you face now. Lucky charms do not exist! If they did, I would not exist! And I do, don’t I…………”
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