Month: March 2014

Love lost and Friendship

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Window to your Soul

 

I’ve opened the window to your soul,

divine as the mind’s eye you seek,

the spirit of your sensually of thee,

your gaze, opened wide, of me takes its toll.

 

Weak, not of me, your eyes seem to speak, a nexus

of my heart, the nature of inseparable

erotic bonds, held closely by a fine thread

stretched only by the distance of time.

 

I get closer to your beauty, reaching,

touching you softly with every word,

foreshadowed, lives beginning, teaching,

quixotic, effervescent, free as a bird.

 

I read from your eyes, your very most inner being,

and continue to read from the pages of your life.

You start with exotic fruits of passion, flowers

that fills me with a sense of nature’s divinity.

 

Soaring through your mind’s eye, Paradise exists,

fluffy clouds above give warmth to ocean’s blue,

the clamor of the ocean’s roar, so hard to resist,

The temptation within me, exulted and so true.

 

whilst lost in time and thought, I seek a place,

away from outside intervention, existing deep

within the recesses of the dreams I have of you,

You’re guiding aura, brilliant, and radiant at peace.

 

I fantasize now more than ever, a desire, evermore,

to open your heart, diminish our distance apart,

to travel the land and oceans to seek your love, before

the sun sets, closing your eyes for a nights rest,

silencing this thundering beat, until we finally meet.

 


 

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Friendship is like…

 

If friendship is like a shadow,

then what am I?

I take all my friendships

seriously.

I liken my friendship to a

large luscious tree;

encompassing all

who happen to rest beneath

its cool and peaceful

veil of green leaves.

The feeling of tranquilly

and trust you get

when you lean back

and let its bark massage

and relax you very inner being.

Its golden aura

surrounds then penetrates

your soul.

This is what I feel in my

friendships. To wrap my friendship

around your essence like the

shadow of a tree.

 

Love and Lonely

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Thinking of You…

 

 In the deepest corners

Of my mind

My thoughts

fill of you.

The pleasures of

your touch tickle

my inner soul.

I drink from the

spring of your

sweet, sweet youth.

This once unreachable

yet gentle milieu

grows closer as

my pondering lifts

my Spirit. My memories

of you dance in my heart,

as I celebrate the day we

reunite; I continue,

lost in time,

thinking of you.

 


 

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The Blues

 

The blues are playing on the jukebox.

Melancholy sounds swirl through the air.

Its monotone beat enters through my

fingers as I tap the red and white

checkerboard tablecloth.

My sadness a mystery.

But as I look around the answer is quite

clear. The faces I see are happy

and full. Wine and women, a folly to

watch, disregarding the blues as it plays.

Is that my answer I ask, to join in the

desperate search for this happiness?

Alone I sit pondering these events as they

happen. Alone, I feel as the blues continue

to play in the seemly distant background.

Ignored by others, but me.

A prediction?

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I’m re-writing another story I wrote in the early 90s and I found this passage: Fort Hillary Clinton, named after an early twentieth-first century president, was rather large even by most earth outpost standards. It consisted of two divisions, being that there were six continents on Gibson’s planet, the other continents had two regiments each. — Will this, could this become a reality??

Finally I’m Finished!

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Today was a good day, as far as being a writer.

It took me 29 years to finish my first novel. That happened yesterday night. I almost broke down and cried, (don’t worry I played my man card). I felt that relieved, I felt that happy. Nevertheless, another feeling hit me just as hard. I felt hurt, not the painful whacked upside the head hurt, but emotionally hurt.

I find this troubling, because I am starting to doubt myself, fear is raising from the depths — what if I messed my story up, didn’t edit it well enough, what if it isn’t good enough. I really wish I had a professional editor go over it for me, but I don’t think I even have 100 pennies right now to get an editor.

Twenty-nine years. I totally lost that much time. About the time I started writing the novel my world was revolving around my children, home life, my job and I was going to school, studying journalism. I was writing for a few newsletters and a magazine, so I was busy.

I always had it in my mind as what I wanted to do and I had outlined, on a couple dozen 3×5 cards all the stories I wanted to write. In 1985, I started on my novel, SunRun. I ended up writing about 2/3 of it then life interfered. I then wrote an ending but couldn’t figure out how to bridge the gap between the front end and the ending of my story.

In the middle 90s, I took a couple of creative writing classes and figured out how to bridge that gap.  But, I put the book away because life got in the way. Moreover, my Credo, at the time was, “I’ve got a job and I am too busy.” And I had a lot of fun in the 90s, some of my best years were in the 90s!

But my writing begin to suffer, because I wasn’t writing enough. A long time ago, I use to write in a journal or on those 3×5 cards. I barely got anything done during those “fun” years. By 2006, I was given a buyout and the opportunity to retire and I took it.

About this was the time I had to find something to do or I would have to go and look for a job at Burger King or become a greeter at Walmart. None of those things were going to happen (they still might, I gotta eat, you know). So, I picked up pen and paper (really, I used a computer), and got to working on that novel.

I took some of the notes from that creative writing class and decided that I should revise my book and the title. As far as titles go, I am not that good in picking a title. So, I changed the name to Operation: SunRun. And of course I did more revising and editing.

In the meantime, I got more ideas and wrote three short stories and because my Mother had passed away, a little earlier, I wrote a book of poems in her memory. My writing then took a different course.

I was hooked on poetry, considering I took a couple semesters of poetry at the local college in the 90s. I finished My Mother’s Garden and had it published in 2010. Even that book of poetry took more time than I wanted to. Now that I think about it, I had about 70 poems already written, but when my mother passed away, I wrote a lot more for her.

Now is the time for me to jump on my writing, get it, and keep it going. I am still hurt and a little sad that it took so long. I know I shouldn’t say it but I am nearing the end of my life, okay, maybe not, if I am lucky I could get another 20 or more years to go. Longevity lives well in my family and I am looking forward to what they have achieved.

In the meantime, the printed version of my novel languishes over there on my desk. In fact, it’s still sitting there, on my desk, collecting dust, thank goodness for computers.

 

 

For the love of housework…

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For all intent and purposes, I am just your average guy, in my case, I’ve always been slightly above average, but of course, I digress. I made note the other day, about trying to find something to write about when you get writer’s block working on your novel.

In the meantime I have been cracking my head open to find something to write about in the writing and publishing world, well, just for this blog. I have another blog that I write about life, love and the pursuit of my happiness…and my cats.

Anyway, I read that in order to help crack that writer’s block one needs to do something. What came up was doing housework. So, the other day I decided to get up from the TV and wash the dishes. And, by gosh, that worked. I ended up writing a 1000 word essay on, something; I can’t remember what I wrote, though.

The next day I decided to vacuum all the carpets, wash and fold a couple loads of clothes, and repair my down comforter, which my cats are ripping to shreds. After I finished all of that I sat down in front of my computer and opened up Word, getting ready to write something. Nothing came to mind, I was stumped, I couldn’t think of a thing to write. I ended up finding a couple of old, published poems and put them up on my blog.

I wasn’t going to do that today by hook or dustpan. I decided that I would clean up the kitchen and of course wash the dishes, good old housework.

The more I think about it, being that “average guy” I have always, just about all my life, done housework. I’ve been divorced for the last 24 years so I have always had to do something around my apartment and house in those many years. In the late 90s a co-worker suggested to me to get a housekeeper and her friend was available.

That lasted about a month; I figured why would I pay someone to do the things that I was capable of doing? And to be honest, I had no problems doing housework; I rather enjoyed doing it. For some very odd reason I enjoyed vacuuming. When I was a youngster I use to drag the vacuum around. I got out of dragging it around but use it weekly now.

As I think back my Mother gave my two brothers and four sister chores to do around the house, my mother was strict about that. So, doing housework never bother me one bit. I do remember, in my middle teens, my mother hired a housekeeper, or she could have been one of my mother’s friends who helped around the house more often than not.

Today it happened again, my mind is a blank, but not so much so. I just don’t know which story to work on this moment. I have one finished story that I am waiting on a friend to finish the cover, to which he volunteered to help me quite a while ago. I told him, one way or another I am publishing on March 22! I made a cover on my own, but I would really love to use his cover.

Anyway, another story is finished but part two is only 34000 words but I can’t think of who I can blame for one of the murders so I am stuck there. Two other stories I want to add more words. Both are under 17000 words. So many unfinished stories and my mind is blank on all of them.

So…into the kitchen I went. Yes, I have one of those automatic dishwasher and all the conveniences of home. But, I guess, I am still old school. Yes, I still, sometimes mop the floor on my hands and knees and still wash the dishes by hand, just about every apartment I have lived in had a dishwasher, but I never cared to use them unless I have a party and I threw a lot parties in my time, to a small degree I still do.

Where am I going with this? Well, it sat me down in front of my computer, music playing (the Rolling Stones Sympathy for the Devil playing this very moment), and am writing this. And after I finish writing this for my blog I am going to open up that short story and see if I can enhance it.

Yes, housework can open your mind, well at least my mind and of course meditation and running everyday helps.

I am just glad I have a washer and dryer.

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Spirit of Trees

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In Memory Of Trees

  

Like a fallen comrade I alone weep,

lying like scattered dominoes,

tossed aside defeated, vanquished.

I turn and wonder my own destiny

Will we too end up this way?

Its life giving blood flows no more

a golden aura, its wisdom self-contained,

eons of evolution spilled, hacked befallen.

But saplings grow replacing spirits hopes.

Only after my death will one realize

the true nature of their being.

Giants in this vast land coming of age,

maturate, blossom, fruitful, harvest.

Every new day, touching the sky,

outstretched arms reaching to bless

me. Only I with my mind to see,

in this memory, my memory of trees.

 

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Why Do They Weep?

  

Why do weeping willows weep?

For they see not what I see,

nor they feel not what I feel.

Why do weeping willows weep?

I look at them and see sadness

that I sometimes feel within myself.

I cannot blame them, for why they weep,

I can only blame myself.

I know they see a golden sun come up

a red, weary sun go down.  The wild

wind blows and the cleansing rain falls.

All the things that are serene

and have a secret meaning to me, too.

I know my life’s not faultless

or as rigid as a tree.  But sometimes

I feel like weeping like a weeping

willow tree.

 

 

I have 99 problems and being stuck is one of them…

I’m stuck and it’s all my fault. Well, maybe not all of it, but some of it is. I’ve lost 25 years, I should have had ten books published by now, but what can I do? The business of publishing is slow, and I really mean, really slow. Of course you can self-publish which is the ultimate way to go in the 21st century. But, for me it doesn’t end there it just keeps starting over and over again. I know I don’t have much more time on this planet but, I am looking for at least another 40 or 50 years or so, though.

Part of my dilemma is my retirement. Yes, good old retirement. I really didn’t want to retire, it was kind of forced onto me on two fronts. I could have stayed with the company but I would have been put back on the assembly line where I started 41 years ago. That wasn’t going to happen because, that is a young man’s job and I am not a spring chicken anymore.

On the other hand, the company I worked for, offered me an early retirement and a bunch of money to leave. I would have, should have stayed at least one more year. But, that same year I found out I had cancer and that was the final vote.

But, I had not really planned for retirement, just then. I figured I had another 10 years to work and, at the time, I was only 53 years old. I had only saved, well, not quite enough. I had figured that my money would run out in a few years, and they I would have to look for a job to get by. That is where the writing aspect came into being. Plus I had to travel to other parts of the world.

It has been slow, writing, to a small degree, but I figure that the more I write…well, it had got to get better, I hoped, so far so good, just late. The publishing business, on the other hand, that’s the 800 pound gorilla in the room. It’s not so big that I can’t handle it, though. The problem it would seem is looking for help, not with the writing but in all the aspect of writing and publishing.

For the longest time I have joined writer’s groups and asked for help to read my stories and proofreading and editing but, I really only asked friends and family. So I would become stuck and I would have to wait for them to give me some kind of answer. Heck, a simple, “I like it” or “I don’t like” would have done wonders for me. But even that didn’t happen. I would have to wait and wait and wait for an answer and that usually never came. People would just never get back with me, or, all of a sudden they get busy and their careers suddenly picked up.

The writer’s groups, well let’s just say they had a different agenda, an agenda that usually had to do with writing but writing and working for and with the community. I didn’t have a problem with that in any way, I just never got any help with my books or stories. I really felt let down.

So, here I am now, stuck. Not all my fault, though. My book has been finished for some time now and I have been going over and over to find all the problems. I did find someone to read it for me and they found all the little things that I missed. All corrected. I read and re-read my story until I was read out. I am ready to publish it, but I’m stuck.

I asked someone to do a cover for me a couple of years ago and this person did a beautiful job! He did it because he is a friend of my son and he said would help me out; I totally appreciated his help to the nth degree. But what he did was use the faces of two actors and there was no way I could use the cover he made.

I know that he is busy; he has his own business doing artwork for others. So, I it let go for a few… But after a while he didn’t answer his email, so I kind of gave up. Later he told me that I could do this or that to rectify the problem. All I had to do was go and buy some camera equipment and green screens and find some models take pictures of them and he would crop their faces in for the cover.

As funny as that is I guess I could have done that…if I was in my 20s and had the time to learn other things. As it was I was still trying to learn my craft, writing. And believe me, there is still a lot to learn, especially in regard to the business of publishing. I got a lot of advice from other friends, learn how to use Photoshop. Okay, I thought I’d give it a try.

I ended up learning, thanks YouTube, a little bit, like cutting and pasting and then smoothing the finished product out. I did a cover, to which, I got a few thumbs up from the few who saw the cover. But, it didn’t have that dynamic look to it as the other cover had. His cover looked like it belonged on a book.

Am I really stuck? Yes and no. Right now I don’t have the money to pay someone to do my cover art, so I am kind of stuck. I have to get back with my friend and get him to finish what he started; it’s been three months since I totally finished my book. Do I use my cover or do I wait for him to get back with me?

Decisions, decisions, decisions. I am thinking that I could go ahead and self-publish a hard copy with my cover. And when my friend ever finishes his cover I could publish an eBook and see where that goes. I do plan to give myself a couple more days and I will hope for the best because…I am getting hungrier by the day.

SN: do I use this cover? The cover that I created? Or…Image

Do I wait for my artist friend to finish and use his cover? Mind you, He created this cover April of 2012, and have bugged him since. I wanted to publish February 1st but moved it March 1st… Now??

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