REVERBERATION, THE NOVEL, has a new cover.

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Posted in historical, historical fiction, historical novel | 17 Comments

“Too Late?”

Cutthroat men are slashing
bitter boys are smashing
their way through the city.
Victims of their hatred
mortals, objects sacred
destroyed without pity.

Is faith validation
for human damnation
and slaughter of the past?
Is fostered cruelty
behind brutality
and decency outcast?

Where is the word of truth
needed by man and youth
to save them from their fate?
Will they face early death
one last regretful breath
aware that it’s too late?

Written for dVerse Open Link Night #149. May 21, 2015.

Posted in Flash Fiction, Micro Fiction, Poetry, Short Fiction, Short Story | Tagged , , , , , , | 18 Comments

“My Name is Bob”

(I’m not very good at writing about myself, so I thought I’d tell the story of Bob and why Bob is Bob.)

I am from

I’ve always been
in the

Like my name
B on each end
with an Oh
in the middle.

Like my
Words of praise
“Oh, Bob
this is beautiful!”
squeezed in
(like creme
between chocolate
in an Oreo cookie)
betwixt words
of rebuke
“Oh, Bob,
what a terrible
thing to do!”
and disappointment
“Oh, Bob
how could you
have missed
that shot/answer/turn?”

I’m the middle child.
A sister, older
A brother, younger

I was in the middle
of my class.
Never first choice
for a team
but never last.

In class pictures
I was always
in the middle
of the middle row.

I am consistent.

In my home
I am still
in the middle
of everything.
Only now
I am the star.
Top basketball scorer.
Homework expert.
Handyman du jour.
Lover of woman and child.

In the long run
life is good
when you are
the Middle Man.
Especially when
your name is
(two B’s
with an Oh
in the middle).

(Written for dVerse Poetics, “Where Are You From”. April 28, 2015.)

Posted in Flash Fiction, Micro Fiction, Poetry, Short Fiction | Tagged , , | 23 Comments

“An Alliterative Absurdity”

The radiant rays
of a reticent sun
resolutely remain reclused
behind a resplendent
rose-colored cloud.
They refuse to reappear
as requested
by the resounding roar
of ritualistic revivalists
who seek to recruit
the reluctant rural residents
with their reinvigorated regimen
of religious sun-revering rites.

Sammy the Gat says
No sun =
No converts=
No fun, Nia.
(And that, like this poem, is an in-joke.)

(Written for dVerse, Meeting the Bar: Diaphanous Diction. April 16, 2015.)

Posted in Flash Fiction, Micro Fiction, Poetry, Short Fiction, Short Story | Tagged , , | 28 Comments

“The Magic of Mother Carey’s Chickens”

I stand
on the bow of the ship.
The wind cleanses my face
but the rain
does not dilute
the pain in my heart.

A minor storm
on the weather chart
it rages
as a major assault
on the nucleus
of my being.

She is gone.
Taking with her
the light of my existence
and leaving in its place
rampant despair.

I lean over the rail
and watch the waves part
as the ship
reconfigures the sea.
Her face
taunts me.
I lean further forward.

The ker-chick
ker-chick of storm petrels,
Mother Carey’s Chickens,
disrupts my self-indulgence.
In the middle of the ocean.

I watch as they tap dance
on the surface of the sea
and duck to pluck
their prey
from under their feet.

I pull back.
If they can endure
the lack of land
to nourish them
then I can survive
the loss of love
to sustain me.

I return to my cabin
cleansed by the wind on my face
and flushed free
of the pain in my heart.

(Written for dVerse, Open Link Night #146, April 9, 2015.)

Posted in Flash Fiction, Micro Fiction, Poetry, Short Fiction, Short Story | Tagged , , , , , | 11 Comments

“I Can’t Think….”

I can’t think about
the sixteen teenagers
who are
but a half-generation
younger than I.

I can’t think about
the pretty young
I’d like to ask
to tea.

I can’t think about
the Siegfried singers
I heard perform
so well.

I can’t think about
the chill I felt
as I clicked
the latch
on the cabin door
and activated
the descent button.

I can’t think about
the last-minute doubt
that comes before
the guilt of glory.

I can only breathe
in and out
careful to maintain
a steady
calming rhythm
during these
final moments
that are taking
so long
and passing
so quickly.

(Written for dVerse Open Link Night, March 26, 2015.)

Posted in Flash Fiction, Micro Fiction, Poetry, Short Fiction, Short Story | Tagged , , , , , , | 16 Comments

“The Beauty of a Big-Boned Woman”

She is called
Mary Elizabeth
a name that conjures
dainty little ladies
with white socks
and black
patent leather

My Mary Elizabeth
is tall
a big-boned woman.
She has a head
shaped like the globe
of the world
and it is filled
with earthly wisdom.

Her eyes
large and dark
are heavy-lidded,
the better to see
without being seen
as seeing.

Her oversized nose
detects the scents
of anger, distrust
and stimulates her
to battle back
with love, faith
and hope.

Her mouth
wide as the river Jordan
cavernous as
the cave of Machpelah
speaks of children
recipes, world conflict
and also of Solomon
Confucius, Sophocles
and Khalil Gibran.

Her hands
with fingers thick
palms broad
catch the wounded
soothe the troubled
applaud the successful.

Her feet unfit
for black patent leather
Mary Janes
are clad in
ancient Birkenstocks
more suitable
to lead her ragtag flock
down the righteous road
to salvation.

At the end of the day
my big-boned
beneficent beauty
retires her crusader’s sash
and is content to return
to her life
as an ordinary
everyday wife
and mother.

And peace
reigns in our home.

(Written for dVerse Poetics, “Savor the Beauty and Share It”. March 24, 2015.)

Posted in Flash Fiction, Micro Fiction, Poetry, Short Fiction, Short Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

“The Master Craftsman and the Altar of Peace”

The wood speaks in esoteric tongue
Naked knots, swooshing swirls from seed sprung.
He lays his hand upon the altar grand
Offers prayers of peace for prescient young.

(Gwawdodyn posted on dVerse Open Link Night, March 12, 2015.)

Posted in Flash Fiction, Micro Fiction, Poetry, Short Fiction, Short Story | Tagged , , , , , , | 18 Comments