REVERBERATION, THE NOVEL, has a new cover.

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Posted in historical, historical fiction, historical novel | 17 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 , , , , , , | 12 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 , , , , , , | 16 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
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.

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

“I Hear….”

“Please leave.”
I hear my son’s voice.
“I want to be alone with my father.”

I hear the talk of strangers.
The medical staff.
I hear their sounds
but do not comprehend
their words.
The angels of mercy

I hear the hiss
of oxygen
from a
plastic tube.
I hear the soft gurgle
of fluid
still flowing
into my arm.
I no longer hear
the soft beeps
of the heart monitor.

I hear my son’s voice
to be heard
the squeal
of wheels
sophisticated equipment
from the room.
I try to listen.
I want to hear
what he wants
to say.

there is silence.
My son whispers
“I love you, Dad.
You done good.”

My eyes
see only
the blackest of black.
My fingers
sense no material
I smell no disinfectants
no fresh-laundered sheets.
My tongue
is no longer soiled
by unwanted
My ears
detect no sound.

And I remember
that hearing
is man’s last sense
to go.

(Written for dVerse Poetics: Writing from the perspective of the dead. November 04, 2014.)

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

“Ode to the Lowly Paper Clip”

Continu’ous line, curved terminals
Aglow with gleaming silver grace.
Clip splits to bind prose germinals
Or snap on page to mark my place.

Two sides make cap and low’r case J
Press flat to form the letter S.
The Js close bags so they will stay
S holds my keys above the mess.

Kids link the clips and jewelry make
Crooks stretch out straight to open doors.
For salt, it clears the holes to shake
The comely clip does many chores.

(Written for dVerse MTB—The Things We See. October 30, 2014.)

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