REVERBERATION, THE NOVEL, has a new cover.

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Posted in historical, historical fiction, historical novel | 17 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 , , | 26 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
ever-present
taunts me.
I lean further forward.

The ker-chick
ker-chick of storm petrels,
Mother Carey’s Chickens,
disrupts my self-indulgence.
Birds.
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
woman
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
shoes.

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
treachery
and stimulates her
to battle back
with love, faith
sincerity
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 , , , , , , | 17 Comments

“Where Are the Lions and Tigers?”

The ravens ride in chariots
Atop a whirling, prescient breeze.
Rabbits, mice, their compatriots
Fear vicious maelstrom but they freeze.

Bloodthirsty wolves with teeth of steel
Slash heartlessly amid the storm.
Headless corpses no longer feel
The pain as devil creatures swarm.

Snow falls on fertile pasture land
Ice forms on shattered mammals’ dreams.
Ferocious winds strafe o’er the sand
And carry off the tortured screams.

Where are the lions, tigers bold?
The wise old owls who preach for peace.
The wolves will howl until they fold
When fox and dove force them to cease.

(Written for dVerse, MTB: Systematically Derange the Language–Surprising Conceit, March 5, 2015).

Posted in Flash Fiction, Micro Fiction, Poetry, Short Fiction, Short Story | Tagged , , , , | 21 Comments

“The Blatant Virginity of White”

Smoke-stained walls of my prison cell
taunt me
as the blatant virginity of white
blinds my eyes
and precise mitered edges
delicately pierce
the epidermis of my wrists and throat.

Toxic drops of cinnabar
recreate
yesterday’s battlefield
as if sun-warmed snow
could reincarnate
the life source of my fallen comrades.

Pitch black curlicues, back slashes, s-curves, half-moons
overlay reality
on the naiveté of youth.
I hold the once-pristine paper
of my farewell letter
against the smoke-stained walls of my prison cell
as tears blur the words and cause the blood to run.

Again,
the blatant virginity of white
blinds my eyes….

(Written for dVerse Meeting the Bar: Defamiliarization. November 20, 2014.)

Posted in Flash Fiction, Micro Fiction, Poetry, Short Fiction, Short Story, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments